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“You said that you do love me? So why?” “But remember, did I say it in front of your face?”
It was a lie. Saying that I didn't love him. We just met, after all of those years of feelings that were engaged virtually. I liked how things went by after that. I moved into his apartment. He went to the college nearby, while I was only fulfilling my short-course study abroad program.
Nothing really seems wrong. But the next time we met, in our home country, I ended all of it.
Jean was and is a good man. It's not like I didn't love him. The word love comes to its edge, it is not enough. It no longer can contain all the warmth, affection, struggle that we had and gave to each other.
Each time our eyes met, it hurt just so bad. Yet he greeted me with his warm hazel eyes, smiling.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Got anything to do today?”
The same phrase every morning, the same forehead kiss. It has been years, and I still can't get over it.
“What?! Eren! Why?” “I just realized that I actually hate you. So, let's end all of this.” “I thought we were doing fine? Eren, please. Did I hurt you?” “No. Stop, Jean. That's it. I'm going.”
I was trying my best to hold back my overflowing tears while I left him in that cafe.
I just wish I know it earlier. I'm loving you but I'm letting go doesn't mean this letting go. I wish I could say that it was a lie, that “I didn't love you” while I still do. And here I stand, in your wedding, as your bride's acquaintance.