I met him while running through the narrow streets of Pienza while I desperately tried to find a place where to hide from the rain. It was the beginning of June. Nobody was expecting rain, but suddenly the sky got darker, and the summer storm began. He ran away from the rain just like me, and we hid in the same doorframe – two soaking bodies a little bit too close to each other.
He stood there, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, and raindrops trickling down his face. Even at that moment, he exuded an aura of confidence and determination, a reflection of his courage on the racetrack. Our chance encounter brought together two individuals from completely different worlds, linked by the commonality of seeking refuge from the storm.
Oh, our first date? Pure chaos, just like we are. Too messy, chaotic. Not a great fit – according to others. Late night talking with a bottle of alcohol, passing touches. Both a bit tipsy and he hugged me from behind. He held me like that for a few minutes before trying to kiss me. I didn't kiss him back. I said: "I don't want to be just another name on the list." I let the talks about him get into my brain. He was quiet, offended – rightfully so. I remember stuttering something because I realised how offensive and rude that was. I was trying to repair the mess I made.
A couple more dates followed. It was great. We were having fun. We were still chaotic, and nothing really made sense. We talked about stupid things. I brought up all the women he was with before me. That one crazy story my friends told me about him. I was so ready to end things on that fifth date, but I couldn't. I wanted to end things, yet I left that date with a smile on my lips and with his cologne all over me.
That was also the evening when he told me not to fall in love with him. He told me he couldn't give me what I deserved, even if he wanted to. "I can't give you more than a summer romance. I'll be gone by the end of September."
But then we celebrated my birthday together. Well, two weeks later because he was away. A bottle of champagne and two glasses. Tipsy lovers. He held me so close to him. I believe he loved me at that moment. For a brief second, I closed my eyes and I felt loved. I should've backed out the moment I felt this. I knew it was wrong. I knew I was just hurting myself.
As summer unfolded, we revelled in each other's company, savouring every stolen kiss, every shared laugh. We immersed ourselves in a world where time stood still, cherishing the fleeting love that bloomed among the chaos. However, the impending departure date remained an ever-present reminder, whispering promises of heartbreak and separation.
As the end of September approached, I faced the inevitable truth. I had to bite myself into the cheek every time I saw him. I wanted to tell him how much I wanted him to stay, how much I wished things could be different.
The airport in Rome became the backdrop of our bittersweet farewell, where Charles and I stood, prepared to part ways and return to our separate lives. It was the end of September, the expiration date of our turbulent summer romance.
As we stood there, I fought the urge to beg him to make it work somehow. My heart ached with the knowledge that our time together had an end and that the memories we had created would be all we had left.
Charles, ever the embodiment of composure, wore a stoic expression on his face. As if it didn't hit him at all.
"I should go," he said so calmly when the number of his gate appeared on the big screen with departing flights. I stared at the board.
12:00 SINGAPORE E13
And a few lines below that my flight.
12:50 NEW YORK JFK E11
I nodded, unable to find the right words to express the mess of emotions running through me. It felt as though a dam had burst inside, flooding my heart with longing, regret, and unspoken words.
We walked together towards our gates, the clattering of footsteps echoing against the cold, sterile walls. Each step brought us closer to the inevitable end, intensifying the ache in my chest.
"I'll wait with you," I suggested. I needed - I wanted – I craved a few more moments with him.
"I don't think you should." His voice was quiet. Maybe he didn't want to say goodbye either. Maybe he wanted to make it work, but the reality weighed heavily upon me. I knew deep down that extending our time together would only postpone the heartbreak, prolonging the inevitable pain of separation. As much as it pained me, I had to let go.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I mustered the strength to respond, my voice quivering with emotion. "You're right. It's time to say goodbye."
Our bodies - holding onto each other as if trying to engrave the memory into our very souls. I breathed in the scent of his cologne, memorising every detail, knowing that it would soon fade away, just like our time together.
"I think I'm in love with you. It's hard to admit, probably even more so because I know you don't want to hear it." I whispered on the verge of tears. I was so broken. I desperately wanted him to tell me those words back, but I knew he wouldn't. He didn't love me. He didn't allow himself to fall in love. Well, what can I say? He was always the better one when it came to discipline.
Charles remained silent, his eyes fixed on some distant point, and I wondered if my words had reached him or if they were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts that surely consumed him.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Charles turned his gaze to meet mine. His expression softened, a flicker of pain evident in his eyes. It was a bittersweet moment, one where the truth lay bare between us.
"Please, don't say that," he begged quietly. I searched his eyes, desperate to understand the depth of his emotions. The unspoken words hung heavily between us, their weight suffocating.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to make things more difficult."
Charles reached out, gently placing his hand on mine, offering a soft act of solace. His touch brought a multitude of emotions, a silent understanding that exceeded the spoken word.
"It's not that I don't care for you," he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness. "But I can't say those words to you. Not because I don't feel them, but because I know the consequences they would bring." Charles took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've been down this path before," he confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of vulnerability and remorse. "Long distance never works especially with the careers we have."
"I understand," I replied, my voice filled with a hint of sadness. "It's not an easy path to navigate, and the sacrifices required are huge." I paused, my gaze fixed on our entwined hands. "But what if we're willing to take that risk? What if we're willing to fight the odds?"
Charles's expression softened for a moment, but then again hardened a bit. "I've seen the toll it takes," he said, his voice laced with caution and pain. "The missed opportunities, the constant longing, the strain on careers and personal growth. It's a heavy price to pay, and I don't want to see either of us suffer."
Tears threatened to spill over, but I blinked them back, determined to stay strong in the face of this painful truth. Deep down, I knew he was right. If we would want to make it work long term one of us would have to give up on our dreams. And neither of us was prepared or willing to do that. Not now.
"I don't want you to suffer either," I whispered, my voice trembling. "But that doesn't make saying goodbye any easier."
Charles's grip tightened around my hand, his touch offering reassurance and support. "We had something special," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of fondness and regret. "And maybe someday, our paths will meet again. But for now, we have to prioritise our own happiness and well-being."
I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. It was an act of love, this decision to part ways, as difficult as it was to accept. We were releasing each other from the bonds of expectation and allowing ourselves the freedom to grow.
As the announcement for his flight echoed through the terminal, reality pressed upon us, reminding us of the inevitability of our parting. Charles reluctantly withdrew his hand, his gaze lingering on mine.
"Take care of yourself," he whispered, his voice filled with a profound yearning. "I hope life brings you the happiness you deserve."
And with a lingering gaze, he turned away, walking towards his gate, his silhouette gradually disappearing into the crowd.
I sat there, alone, watching him go, my heart breaking with every step he took. It felt as though a piece of me was leaving with him, lost in the vast expanse of the world.
As I made my way towards my own gate, tears streamed down my face, mingling with the chaos of emotions that consumed me. The airport became a blur.
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