“No,” she demanded. “You don’t get it, Fai. Sure, this is hard for you. I understand that—I really do. But do you realize how painful it is to have your goddamned soulmate not love you back? To watch them kill themselves slowly, blowing up every relationship they have, setting fire to everything good in their life? Because I do!” She seethed, tears finally breaking free. “I watched the love of my life disappear in front of my eyes. But I thought… no, I knew I could withstand it all. I could survive it all because you loved me. That was enough to get me through the hardest days, because your love was equivalent to life itself, breathing into me every day. And then… you didn’t. You didn’t love me anymore.”
“I lied!” I yelled, interrupting and finally stopping her tirade.
She stepped back, the truth hitting her like a physical blow. Her eyes were wide, the tears flowing freely. “You what?”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the hurt in hers. “I lied,” I whispered.
Her shaking breath took me back to that day—the day I decided to sever the tie binding us together, to set her free. To keep myself from drowning her with me.
Eighteen Months Ago
I stumbled into the house, squinting at the clock. It was just after three a.m., and I hoped Sarah had gone to bed hours ago. I closed the door behind me, wincing when it slammed harder than expected.
There was no denying I was drunk… but it was the most sober I had come home in over a year. I stumbled to the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. I needed to take my shoes off, brush my teeth, and shower off the stench, but I just wanted to sleep. I wanted the noise in my head—the noise that was seeping back into the recesses of my mind as I sobered—to stop.
I lay back on the couch, groaning as my sore body finally found reprieve. I knew there was no reason to try and get in bed with Sarah, not that I wanted to be there. I knew she deserved better, and she refused to share a bed with me when I was drunk. Thus, this couch had been my bed for the last year. It felt too final to go into the guest room, as if I were accepting the division between us.
I threw my arm over my eyes, starting to drift off when I heard her soft steps patter into the living room.
“Fai?” she called.
I couldn’t face her, not like this. I was too ashamed that I wasn’t strong enough for her. It was all I wanted: to be better, to be the man she loved, to be the man she deserved. But I didn’t know how anymore. I didn’t know how to be anyone but this pathetic version of myself.
“Fai,” she sighed softly. She thought I was asleep, and I didn’t correct her. I lay there, unmoving, forcing my chest to rise and fall evenly. I didn’t want to have another conversation where I apologized and promised to be better, because I knew I would break it.
I didn’t want to break it, but I didn’t know how to stop.
I felt a blanket land on my body and her cold hands tucking it around me. Just when I thought she was leaving, she sat down on the floor next to the couch, her head leaning against my chest. I felt her soft sobs—the ones she tried to stop.
I had never hated myself more than I did right then. I didn’t want to be the cause of her pain, but I was the sole cause. I was demolishing everything good in her life.
“Why do you keep doing this?” she spoke softly through her tears. “I love you, Fai. I just want you to come back. I miss you. I miss the way you smile, the way you laugh… I miss the way you used to hold me at night. I miss you. Come back to me.”
I wanted to stand up and yell that I was right here. I was right here, but I was drowning and didn’t know how to swim to safety. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t even know how to want to stop. I wanted to beg her to save me, to swim me to safety, to sew me up and make me whole again.
But it wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair to put it all on her, and I knew that. I loved Sarah more than I loved myself. Loving her was as essential as breathing; there was simply no way for me to live without loving her entirely. But our love was killing us both slowly. I was drowning, dragging her down with me. But she wasn’t resisting, letting the waves pull her down, refusing to let me go.
Sarah eventually fell asleep on my chest, her breath slowing, fanning over my skin. I let it wash over me with warmth one more time. I couldn’t save myself, but I could save her. I lay there, refusing to fall asleep, knowing it was the last time I wouldget to spend a night with her. The last time I would feel her close to me.
The last time I got to call her mine.
The next morning, I downed a finger of whiskey and picked some stupid fight. I couldn’t even remember how it started… but I needed to get her angry.
Sarah was stomping around our kitchen, making coffee, and the anger radiated off her in waves. It was a Saturday, which would give her time before she had to go back to work. She wouldn’t have to put on a brave face to help others pick up the pieces of their lives while her own was crumbling.
“I don’t get it, Fai.” She slammed her mug down on the counter, the hot coffee just barely spilling over the edge. “I am trying so hard here. I’m trying to be patient, I’m trying to give you grace, I’m trying to understand, but you need to try, too.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a few steadying breaths. When she opened them, they were damp with tears ready to fall, but she held them back, knowing they would hurt me. “I just feel so alone. None of our friends support us anymore. I can’t talk to them about you because they want me to…” She trailed off and collapsed into the seat across from me. “As long as we have each other and love each other, I know we’ll be okay.”
This was the part of the conversation where I would usually say I loved her—where I would promise to try harder, and she would look at me with hope, though that hope grew thinner every time. But this time… this time, I didn’t say anything.
“I love you, Fai.” She reached across the table to take my hand, but I pulled away. “Fai?”
She needed me to speak up, to say anything, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She would never understand, but this was the only way I could think to save her.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, finally looking up at her.
