The D Day

That day was the end of us.

When I first started dating my boyfriend, the one thing I asked him was that when – because even at that early stage of our relationship, I somehow knew we wouldn’t stay together forever – he were to break up with me, he should at least do it in a private place. He promised he would keep that in mind, although that promise came after a long discussion about why he would never ever think of breaking up with me.

I couldn’t even do this for him.

To be fair, it was my dad’s advice, since he was worried that my still boyfriend would pull a Chris Brown on me. I obviously dismissed that thought because my boyfriend was not Chris Brown at all, but then I remembered he actually treated me like Rihanna one night a long time ago. So, maybe, just in case, I would take my dad’s voice into account.

So we met up at a park near my previous job. The job I quit in order to move to Montreal. The park where we met at every other night for the three years that I worked there. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best place to meet. Too many fond memories were about to be ruined with a major horrible one. Too late to cancel, though.

I arrived earlier than him and went through the speech and supporting arguments I had carefully built before the meeting for one last time. It all made sense. I had no doubt in my heart that what I was doing was the right thing to do.

And then he arrived.

I saw him and all those reasons disappeared in a heartbeat. I wanted to touch his face, hug him, feel his arms around me… I wanted him. Nonetheless, I didn’t want him because I saw myself with him. I wanted him because I was about to lose him.

We talked about our lives since the moment – about one month ago – when we cut all communication between us. We halfheartedly laughed at how much we had wanted to call the other to share some random event in our lives. And then, all of a sudden, I started crying.

I cried because I was hurting him and myself too. I cried because deep down I knew that the person in front of me truly loved me. I cried because even though I was realizing all of that, I still knew it was the best decision for both of us.

I cried because as much as I would had wanted him to be the right person for me, he wasn’t. I cried because I wasn’t that person for him even though he hadn’t realized that. I cried because he deserved so much better. I cried because I deserved so much better, and still, for that brief moment, I wanted to hold on to him like I’ve never held on to anything else in my life.

I cried because it truly was the end.

After a while, he told me he still wanted to know about me. Maybe not that day, maybe not the following day, but one day. He was holding me in his arms.

I forgot about everything else. I was just thinking of when that day would arrive. Then I realized that whenever that happened, we would not be the same anymore. Everything we had would disappear by then.

That hug and the kiss on the cheek he gave me after would most likely be the last he would ever give me.

That day I had to bid farewell to all the dreams and hopes I had built around us. It was the end and it hurt more than I ever imagined it would.

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