The Only Exception

The Only Exception Part 2

He knew that in this complicated relationship, he was the weak one. She may always say yes when he asks her for a date. She may always pretend to be having a good time. But he knew she wasn't being honest with him or herself.

This relationship never had the meaning of truthfulness, or maybe it was fake since the beginning.

If he could make a wish right now, he would turn back time to the day when they first met. Instead of helping her with her twisted ankle, he would've walked away like the other passengers on the street.

They would've never become friends that way.

They would've never realized they were next-door neighbours.

They would've never shared that dinner, and he would've never fell for her that night so easily and so deeply.

Yet fate made it all happen. Fate played such a big trick on him he couldn't breathe. He wanted to scream for help but he couldn't make a sound.

He loved her. He didn't want to but he couldn't help it.

She was the first woman he had ever truly loved with all his heart. He dreamed every night of tenderness and sweetness, of a beautiful girl in white, of two children that played hide and seek in the park.

But his feeling, like she had said, was not returned. All his dreams, all his wishes, all those images of his future was sheered every time he heard those words.

[I don't believe in love. I never loved anyone and I never will.]

He knew that very soon, she was going to leave.  

....................................... 

............ 

..................... 

... 

He climbed over his balcony again to get onto hers. She did not say a single word as he once again sat down besides her, holding her hand.  

Together, they gazed into the night sky, finding constellations, and guessing the tales they were trying to tell.

She wanted to say the words, the words that were going to leave him heart broken. She wanted to tell him goodbye, and shout for him to leave.  

But he spoke first, he spoke with such pain in his voice her heart crashed against her ribs, and like Titanic, everything drowned. Her love, her barrier, the distance she placed between her and the others.

She cuddled against him as he whispered the words, the truth, the secrets she had hid.

[You don't like to watch the stars, you don't like white, you don't like the sound of the piano and you don't like art. You never drink bitter coffee and you never sit beside me. You enjoy face-to-face conversations and you escape sensitive subjects. You hate love. You don't believe in it.] 

She lowered her head to place it on his shoulder, she grasped onto his arm as tears welled up in her eyes.

[You were taught to fear,] he whispered, [You were taught not to love like I was taught not to hate.]

[You must think I'm crazy.] She chuckled sourly, [You must think I have issues.]

[I've tried very hard in this no future relationship. I never gave up. I don't want to give up. You're like a perfectly good apple that painted yourself the colour of orange. You want people to not pick you as they walk by; you try to convince everyone that you're rotten; you are different, and tasteless. But you are, my love, you are a perfectly fine red apple that is too afraid of changes and too afraid of the past. You are afraid of getting hurt, of having the same fate as those who taught you to not love.]