The Choice

I leaned on the dusty window seal; my legs crossed and my face resting on top of my folded arms as I forced it into the foggy glass. I was staring past the murky forest---past the moors and then just across the sparkling creek---and into the small cottage that lies just beside the grand mansion that serves as a comfy shelter for a wealthy and important family. That cottage holds captive a misunderstood boy who only wanted to experience love. A choice he freely made and was despised by his parents for it. Patiently he sits as I wait, enduring all the pain inflicted on him for making the stupidest choice in his life. For choosing me; a strong-willed, poor girl who could not hold her tongue. A girl who covers her vulnerability by looking strong but only knows a world of hard work and torture. Nevertheless, I remember that bittersweet memory all too clearly to think of it as a dream:

It was a cold and foggy morning and I woke up at dawn, got out of the covers, and went straight to the window. Everything was still a blur; heavy fog surrounded the place. I tried to wipe off the fog that slowly crept on my window but I still could not see clearly. Nevertheless, I saw the light I was searching for; a small speck of candlelight, floating animatedly by the gate. It was in the hands of a tall, lean, and sculpted figure with prominent features, fair skin, black hair, and brown eyes. I scrubbed the fog off my window vigorously to make sure it was him. And sure enough, it was the boy I was waiting for---the boy I adored. I immediately got dressed and then quietly exited the house. For my parents knew of this relationship but they did not approve of it. They had already warned me not to associate myself with this boy---they did not want anything to do with us. He came from a well-known and respected family and our riches---if we had any---could not compare to theirs. But still, I ran to him as he extended his arms wide open to me. It was as if I was a child running home to my mother after a tiring day; it was the same scene but now I was running into the arms of my lover. He flung me off the ground and I held on as he made us twirl around and around. Finally, He put me down and then planted a kiss on my cheek.

I blushed.

He smiled innocently as He blushed too. "I'm sorry. I'm just happy I came"

"As am I"

Suddenly, men came and demanded that he was to go with them. He struggled to get free while I was clutched from behind and locked in a steal grasp.

And then they just took him away from me in a heartbeat. And that was the last time I saw him. He never came back after. I was worried sick for him! Feeling guilty as if I was the cause of his misfortune. My heart felt like it was shattered into a thousand pieces. And somehow, I could not reassemble the pieces back; I could not think straight nor could I do anything right! I finally realized that I needed to give up on him---on life, on love---and get on with the rest of my life, or what was left of it. For I swear that he will be the only boy I shall ever love. The only boy I have given my heart to.

It was only a month ago, that I knew how much worst it was than what I thought. Seven months had passed and it was only last month that he got a chance to persuade one of his servants to deliver his message to me. Imprisoned by the disappointment of his own mother, he now suffers the consequence of loving a poor girl. His mother---thinking it was best for him---locked him away in a cottage beside their mansion so that he could not---ever---see me again.

And now, I am deeply terrified that he took the blow for me. As well as depressed---that there is no way of him escaping--- of how much trouble I got him into. No one should ever be locked up. It was all my fault and He suffered for me. Why did I even go out of the house?! How could I not stop myself?! If that is what you call affection, I cannot ever love him as much now. I am much too much fragile and thinking of my own sanity and feelings, I've become selfish. I know I love him but my feelings for him have been growing weaker and weaker by the second unless he does something to make me fall for him again. It is like hanging onto a very thin and breakable line of thread. But I will wait, maybe until I rot...if I have to. It's all right, so as long as I know who I am waiting for.

True love is hard to find, you shall need patience if you wish to seek it...

But if the tables were turned, would he wait? 

Or would he find a way to end both of our misery by finding a way to escape? 

Or is he a coward to do both?