“You know, I don’t want to, I never have.”

“Mhmm.”

“I need someone Anne. I don’t think I could do this alone. And that someone has to be you. But you, you make me feel like I’m your burden, like I’m your punishment for doing something wrong. I can’t deal with that. Not now.”

“Of course.”

“It has to be you or I’ll do this alone.”

Anne’s entire existence wanted to run towards him and take him in her arms. Because she could think of no better way to say what she wanted to say. She wanted to hold him in her arms, push his messy hair off his face and tell him that she wasn’t going anywhere. She would see his eyes give away some of the relief he felt after seeing how much she loved him. Love made everything okay, right?

Only, she didn’t.

She stood where she was standing, 10 metres from him.

Her face didn’t show even a glimmer of what she felt.

His voice grew desperate, “So what’s it going it to be, Anne?” He looked so small and frightened.

She took a small step forward.

She stopped.

She stared at a spot on the road till it grew blurry. Her eyes began filling with tears. She was about do something no one should ever have to do.

She stepped back.

“I can’t.”

She felt her own heart break, just as she could feel his.
*******************************************************
“Anne...” He said. He knew there was no point in nursing his wounded pride and walking away. Of what use was pride in his wasted life.

She stood rooted at her spot.

He knew what it had taken her to say what she said. She had cried for hours when her servant threw a baby mouse of the balcony. He walked the distance between them. As he stood in front of her, he could see the scared little girl hidden behind the cold, hard bitch. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembled. He could see the past few weeks had been extremely hard on her. She kept her eyes fixed on the spot on the road. He felt like he had been selfish. He couldn’t have expected her to bear his burden with him. How would she live her life with something like this? For that moment, he was a man, a man who had gotten a little more grief in life than most people did. Nothing that he couldn’t handle.

He whispered, “Oh Anne” and took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Then he stepped back and said to her astonished little face, “I won’t bother you again.”

Two months later, he died. And she never forgave herself.