You held a black umbrella in one hand and a Prophet in the other as you said the words. Your tan raincoat, the one with the assorted black buttons, was longer than your jumper and was tied tightly around your waist. Your black satin headband kept back the blonde hair that shimmered still, despite the rain, and the boots you wore were new, black as well.
Congratulations, you looked bloody amazing for the worst day of my life.
I stood across from you, in a suit, with my suit coat hanging limply from my left hand. The rain soaked into my shirt, dripped off the cuffs and collar. It dripped from the ends of my hair, from my nose, from my ears, and from my mouth, hanging open in disbelief.
There were meters of distance between us, probably the most distance ever. I had tried to close the gap, but your boots took a half-step backwards, and I got the hint.
Automobiles, buses, shipping trucks, bikes, pedestrians zoomed by us as we stood on the cobble stone pathway. A myriad of sounds must have been made but all I could hear were those words that fell from your gorgeous red lips.
Did you mean to break me like you did? Tactfulness was never your strong suit. Sometimes, I think you did it from fear. Other times, I think you were just being a bitch.
I don't often wonder about your life now. I've heard glimpses, of course. Lily, after all, is not known for her secrecy, and James frequently mentions you, just to annoy me, I think. And I've seen your name or picture in the Prophet, in articles just like the one published on that fateful day. And sometimes, from across the room at a gala or as the elevator door opens on your floor at the Ministry, I'll catch a swish of your hair or perchance, a smile.
It's awful every time.
Maybe, your life is better off without me. Maybe, leaving was your way of escaping what you thought was a stifling relationship. Maybe, you had wanted something new, something different. Probably, I'll never get answers because you left it at those two words.
Those two words were all it took for you to ruin nineteen years of friendship. Those two words made me sick for weeks and cry for days. Those two words made me stop coming to Weasly dinners, stop talking to most of them completely. Those two words made me wish we had never broken Harry's broomstick together, had never gotten lost in Hogsmeade, had never eaten Hagrid's stone cakes just to please him, had never kissed, had never made love, had never been at all.
The day you were born I vowed to protect you, and you ruined all of it with two words.