A Simple Love Story By Soufiane L

A Simple Love Story

I woke up, as I do every holiday, with anger dominating my thoughts, a sharp pounding echoing in my head. I open my eyes to a pile of clothes stacked on the bed, sharing it with me, and their scent, that of cleaning detergent, stings my nose, bringing tears to my eyes until I dare not yawn. You know how much I loathe that smell, yet you still accumulate it beside me, as though we belong to the same realm.

-Another boring morning...

I lift my eyelids, heavy with sleep, and see you standing behind the pile of clothes, cradling the baby while you strike the ground with that damn broom... As if you intend to ruin my day before it even starts.

And the smell of the floor cleaner chokes the room, while you persist in this behavior that I can’t bear.

-Damn everything.

I no longer gamble on the days. As soon as our eyes meet, I see my words turning into tears in your eyes, and I choose silence instead of asking for a divorce, hiding everything in my heart... It’s as if you know everything, as I have seen your subtle pleas in those distant looks, a sorrow masked by anger when you are jealous of this one and that, as though I had already overcome you, capable of finding someone else... No feeling moves my heart toward you anymore...

But I am unable to leave. I don’t see you the same way I did before, but it is the damned duty imposed by fate. I see you before me, carrying our child in your arms, wiping his face, doing everything I despise while you are perfectly content with what you do, and all you care about is that I stay here, that we stay together; in your embrace, I feel a tremor of fear hidden beneath the rhythm of your heartbeat, reflected in your breath, and that saddens me deeply... If I stay, I will bury myself in a journey of life that I see as over, and if I leave, I will remain regretful for the rest of my life.

Such is my state, and I don’t know how long my heart can endure this pain, or how long my conscience will stay awake to serve you. I don’t know until when the past will beg the future not to change things... There is nothing I can do, for I have surrendered the decision to the one who holds it.

So I rise, whispering a phrase to console everything that has crumbled within us:

-You look beautiful as you play the floor-cleaning stick.

Perhaps in this soft lie, there’s a lasting peace I do not know. I watch you smile as you always do, to forget all this suffering. And I am not sure who among us is truly suffering.

-Wait a little, I’ll prepare your breakfast.

-Don’t trouble yourself, just hand me the cleaner bottle and a piece of soap, and I’ll have breakfast with it.

Some silly jokes color the sorrow with a smile we both need, to let the cloud pass from our hearts in peace. Certainty abandons me, and thoughts mingle with deferred decisions. I know that without you, I am nothing; my feelings resemble none of the love depicted in books, songs, or poems... But perhaps this is the love of the poor... We imprison circumstances in our hearts, and remain together through all the sadness and tragedies, even when we see that we no longer match. Yet we stay, for we cannot destroy this small thing we spent our lives building, sacrificing everything for it.

If this is the love of the humble, I will accept it, then:

-I love you.

By Soufiane L - Pink and Blue Stories Colelction