You started to notice it one night, at some silly little thing that you would have otherwise not attended, had he not looked at you like that. As it always was, you relented, tagging along and completely out of place as he chatted with people you didn't recognise at all.
You suppose that you should have been monitoring the seemingly endless amounts of alcohol that appeared (and just as quickly, disappeared) on the refreshment table. You suppose you should have followed your instinct to sigh, roll your eyes and point out the stupidity (not to mention the utter childishness) of such a game.
If you could call it a 'game'. You suppo9se you should have objected as you always did in court when the bottle landed and the woman who had been stealing glances gave a shy smile.
You suppose alot of things.
Too bad you were too much of a coward to do something.
Afterwards, when they had all left, cake and streamers scattered around an otherwise acceptable apartment, you couldn't help notice that he held you a little differently, as if he were distracted.
It was then the distance started. And it didn't seem like he could help it. He seemed to be lost in whatever occupied his otherwise inactive mind, stealing time away from you both. He still smiled you, talked to you and held you, but there was a gap, a distance that threatened to tear down the bridges you once thought were stronger than anything. And it killed you inside.
Oh, how it killed you inside.
The loss of such a closeness you had never felt (or dare to believe you deserved to have felt) before.
That hurt more than anything else.
You don't blame him. How could you? The only reason you have (...had?) that closeness was because you started it. You knew about his past... drabbles in love. What he did and did not consider, what he preferred, what he liked.
And what he did not.
So you can't blame him for seeing what you do. The fire in his eyes that flicker in confusion, attempting to remind him that he still loves you. And a similar fire when he looks at her.
He was not the type to let it go easily. He was the type of person who would chase something down, even if it took him half his life. And he did fight. Fight to keep what little you had left, and you braced the storm, stood your ground, and smiled to protect your crumbling walls from his anger. He did ask you, at the last moment. He asked you in a desperate voice if it meant nothing to you.
Nothing?
It was nothing.
And... everything.
Your walls pause as you smile at him, the sadness and despair you feel locked away for another time.
' I love you enough to let you go.'
---
And now you stand here and it seems like forever has passed. You sink a little deeper into the gloom as his eyes sweep the area once more, expectantly. And you ignore the twinge when his face falters when he does not find what he is looking for.
But you feel content, watching them walk down the aisle, people cheering around you. The joy they express haunts you for years to come.
Your mask cracks slightly. And you hope him all the luck in the world.
Your flight back to Europe leaves soon. And so will you. Unnoticed.
And you let him go.
Because you love him.
