Into the Valley of Love

 

Into the Valley of Love

"I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you and not see you the way I want to. The urge to claim you occupy my morals every time I am near you. I can’t pretend anymore, looking into your eyes and convincing myself that this... whatever we have... will work the way you want it to."

"I don’t know what else to do to make you feel the way I feel about you. Maybe you can’t, but at least try to claim me the way it should be. We’ve shared our emotions, our problems, our bodies. Why is it so difficult for you to embrace whatever this is between us?"

"Do you love me?"

That question. The one you never want to hear. The one you never want to answer. Expecting an answer from someone you don’t want to lose is a knife to the heart. I know that. Knowing that their response will decide whether they stay or walk away. You look into his furious eyes, sensing the hunger in his gaze. Words fail you, trapped in your throat. You look down, hoping he’ll say something to break the silence, to guide you.

"You can’t answer that, can you? I expected that." His voice is quiet, resigned. "I love you. I want you. But living with you as a friend who shares my bed but not my heart... it’s like being imprisoned. I tried to live by your rules, but every day is torture."

Looking away, he moves toward the door, but then hesitates and stops before he exits the room. A part of you wants to say something, to beg him to stay. Another part wants to let him go, to preserve the wall you’ve built around your heart.

"I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye."

He exits, leaving you froze in place, your arms hugging yourself tightly as the overwhelming feeling of emptiness settles in and takes hold of you. You exhale slowly, staring at the door, trying to process the reality of his absence. But the loneliness creeps in like an unwelcome guest, settling into every corner of your being.

Time marches on, yet you remain trapped, unable to move past that moment. When one word could have changed everything. You didn’t say it. And now, the regret gnaws at you like an insatiable hunger. Your life has become a monotonous routine, a mechanical cycle of waking, eating, working, and sleeping, much like a programmed robot. You convince yourself that you made the correct decision, a decision motivated by self-preservation and a desire to safeguard your well-being. But the dull, persistent ache in your chest betrays you, a constant whisper reminding you of your mistakes.

You scroll through his social media, your thumb aching, searching for any sign of him amidst the endless stream of posts. Nothing new. His last post is a photo of the two of you, his arms around your waist, your hand on his shoulder, both of you smiling. You study the image, remembering the joy you once felt. Although a deep ache remains in your heart, a subtle smile involuntarily stretches your lips.

You turn off your phone and step outside. The recollection of your first meeting with him, a tapestry woven from the threads of your university days, the different courses you took, the various people you met, and the quick and deep friendships that you both made.

You were open about your dreams, you laughed, and you bravely faced pain; yet, surprisingly, you remained unconvinced about the possibility of love. Love was a trap, a surrender of independence, a cage built of rose petals and thorns. Past hurts led you to vow never to let anyone control you again.

He knew. He always knew. But he let love take hold anyway, its tendrils wrapping around his soul, a bittersweet ache. You think back to the night everything changed. A game of truth or dare led to a kiss. That kiss led to more connection you couldn’t ignore. The walls you’d built your friendship on crumbled under the weight of your shared desire.

However, you introduced a new set of guidelines for your relationship, naming it friends with benefits. Devoid of any commitment or expectation of a serious romantic relationship, no emotions, just bodies entangle. He went along with it, though you could see his love. His eyes lingered too long. His touch was too tender. He wanted more, but you were too afraid to give it.

Now, as you sit alone, the weight of your choices presses down on you. You stare at your reflection in the mirror. "I have to make another rule," you whisper. "I’ll regret it later."

You grab your phone and head to his place. Your heart pounds as you approach his door. What if you’re too late? Could his feelings have faded? What if he’s moved on? You hesitate, then barge in, unable to hold back your frustration.

"Vera?" His voice is soft, startled.

"I don’t understand what’s happening to me," you blurt out, pacing the room. "I feel like I’m losing my mind. My stomach’s in knots. My head’s a mess. I can’t stop thinking about you."

"Vera, what’s going on?"

"What’s going on with us?" you demand. "You can’t just disappear like that. You know how much I need you. It hurts, Max. It hurts to lose you."

The room falls silent. Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks after your outburst, you shyly look away, overwhelmed by a sense of shame and regret.

"Vera," he whispers, "you’re falling in love. It’s not a disease, and it’s not a bad thing."

"I hate it," you admit, tears stinging your eyes.

He kneels before you, taking both of your hands within his own. "Then hate me for loving you. Hate me for wanting you. But don’t push me away."

"Max..."

He smiles. “If it makes you feel better, you can say I hate you instead of I love you.”

"I hate you," you whisper.

"Does it help?"

"A little," you say, pulling him closer.

His kiss is slow and tender, and as he kisses you, the walls that you have built around your heart crumble once more, leaving you vulnerable. This time, you made the conscious choice to let the things drop to the floor...