Summer
You could feel it before it even touched you.
That weight in the air —
Thick and swollen with unspoken things, silently growing
Yet ready for release, just waiting for something.
I noticed she was the same.
Quiet, hesitant, yet preparing for release.
I feared the things she wanted to speak about, so I closed my mouth, waiting for her.
And so, we walked a great way ahead in silence, the tension growing.
Suddenly, it became impossible to distinguish the pressure gathering in the air from hers.
It was like nature itself was waiting for her to speak, accompanying her momentum.
Her footsteps slowed, the rhythm of them matching the pulse of the storm.
I wondered if she, too, could feel the increasing heaviness.
Still, she said nothing.
We walked till we reached the end of the street, and there we stood.
Waiting
I turned my face toward her in time to see her shift her gaze towards the sky, staring intensely at it.
And abruptly, just as I thought I might hear the words I dreaded —
The first drop of rain fell.
And then another.
And another.
The storm had begun, but not with fury.
With quiet, slow grace.
Time seemed to stop… Just for us
Oh, how I wish that moment lasted eternally,
It would be like a blessing and a curse.
To be able to gaze at her beautiful visage, but damned never to feel…
Indeed, a blessing and a curse.
But something else quickly caught my attention, mixed with the gentle raindrops was something else.
Her tears
But why?
I couldn't tell if it was pain or release.
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.
If it were the latter, I couldn't tell, but if it were the former, I would know.
Pain is an old friend of mine, after all.
Her lips trembled,
but still, no words came.
Only the storm —
soft thunder rumbling in the distance,
as if even the heavens were holding back.
I wanted to reach for her.
To ask what was breaking her.
To hold her like she might vanish if I let go.
But something about that moment felt… sacred.
Like interrupting it would shatter what little she still held onto.
So I stood there, beside her,
Drenched in rain and questions I was too afraid to ask.
Was it something I did, or I said?
Or was it something else entirely? Buried far before me —
A sorrow I had no name for?
The way she stared at the sky,
It felt like she was asking it for forgiveness.
She finally turned toward me, and her eyes met mine.
Red-rimmed, soft,
And full of something that felt like goodbye — or the ghost of it.
"I'm sorry, but we have to break up", she said.
Her words were cold, unmoved, betraying the feelings I could perceive in her eyes.
Still, they hit like nothing else before.
I stood there, petrified, confused.
The thunder rumbling with growing anger in the sky, but I couldn't hear it.
Only one word managed to slip away in a whisper before I even realised it;
"Why?"
Not even a proper question, more like something spilt uncontrollably from a wound.
She looked at me then, through me, as if she was observing someone else while gazing at me.
And then I recognised it, the war inside her.
The way her jaw tightened to keep from trembling.
The way her hands clenched like she was holding back the need to hold me.
The way her eyes screamed every word she couldn't say.
But her voice remained steady.
And then I bore witness to her growing resolve.
"I tried", she said, "I really tried, but I got tired of being your crutch.
Tired of carrying your sadness.. your rage like it was my purpose."
My throat tightened, but no words came.
Because part of me believed her.
She shook her head in anger, as if by doing so, the memories of us in her head could vanish faster.
"You are wasting my time, and even my patience is running thin- I asked you to disappear from my sight, why are you still here, F*king loser? I'm done babysitting broken things."
I didn't know which part hurt more —
her words,
or the way she seemed to believe them.
Like I was nothing more than a weight she had dragged behind her,
hoping I might one day learn to walk on my own.
And the rain —
God, the rain kept falling,
as if trying to wash me off the face of the earth,
like something unwanted by both humans and the Earth.
Still, I noticed it amidst the pain.
How her shoulders trembled -- just vaguely -- but it was enough for me.
I know she needed help, and so I moved, almost instinctively.
I took her in my arms, holding her tightly.
And then I felt her shaking,
as if shocked.
As if the one thing she didn't expect me to offer
was the one thing she needed most.
"What's happening?
Why are you doing this?"
You know, whatever happens, I'll stand by you"
That broke something.
Her breath hitched.
Her chest heaved.
And then the sobs came — raw, unfiltered — like a scream muffled by skin and storm.
She cried like someone being torn apart from the inside.
Like grief had finally caught her.
Like love was a thing she could no longer carry.
And I just held her tighter.
"I'm here," I said.
"I'm still here."
That was when she started hitting me.
Not with hate.
Not at first.
With guilt. With rage. With pain so sharp it needed a body to escape through.
And I was the body she knew wouldn't leave.
Fists beat against my chest.
Slaps across my face.
Elbows. Nails. Words sharper than blades.
"Why won't you hate me!?" she screamed.
"Why do you always stand there like this—like a coward, like a fu*king child!"
Another slap.
"You think this is love? You think clinging to broken people makes you good?!"
She was weeping and striking me all at once —
breaking her own heart with every word she flung at mine.
"You're so soft! So needy!
You don't see me, you just see someone to save.
I'm not your saviour, I'm not your redemption arc, and you are no hero!
I'm rotting, and you keep trying to breathe life into me like it'll fix you!
Selfish Bas*ard"
And yet—
I didn't move.
I took every hit. Every insult. Every bitter truth.
Because I loved her.
Even now.
Especially now.
She collapsed into me once more — gasping, soaked in rain, shame, and desperation.
I wrapped my arms around her and whispered her name as if it were a vow.
"I'm not going anywhere, my Clarissa."
She stilled.
And then —
like a final, desperate act of escape —
she reached into her pocket.
I didn't notice it at first.
The glint.
The weight of what she had been hiding — not just in her pocket, but in her soul.
And before I could speak—
Before I could understand—
A blade slid between my ribs.
There was no scream.
Only her whisper:
"I told you to leave..."
My breath caught.
Not just from the pain — but from the realisation.
She hadn't done it out of hatred.
She'd done it because I wouldn't stop loving her.
And that love had become unbearable.
"I couldn't let you stay, to see", she said, voice shaking.
"Because you would've… an…
And you would've loved me until I forgot how to hate myself."
She pressed her forehead to mine.
Her amber eyes staring deeply into mine
"But I can't be saved.
And now I doomed you too."
I collapsed slowly, like a wave folding into shore.
The rain fell harder now.
The sky sobbing with her.
With me.
She held me as I fell, her arms tight, trembling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you"
But the pain faded, her words blurred into the storm..
Only the rain remained
Even as my chest burned,
and the warmth of life ran down my stomach, forming a new dark red puddle downwards,
and into the street,
Something else remained.
Complex feelings engulfed my being
Peace.
Not because I wanted to die.
But because, in my final breath,
I still chose her.
Even now.
Even like this.
Even betrayed.
And that was the last truth I ever knew:
"Good times never last"