Chapter 1
“When did we meet?”
“I came into town to buy something. You were standing by the display window, I accidentally bumped into you, and your groceries started falling to the floor. Why were you holding everything in your hands instead of taking a basket?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember anymore.”
“I apologized and helped you pick everything up, put it in my cart, and we went to pay. There was so much sadness in your eyes, so much pain. As if life brought you no joy at all. Never. I asked you out for coffee. You agreed.”
“Did you feel sorry for me? I never thought about it before, but now…”
“No. It wasn’t pity. In that moment, I wanted to see you smile, to see a spark of joy in your eyes. I felt a closeness, an understanding. How badly I wanted to hug you and tell you everything would be alright.”
“But instead, you told funny stories, joked. Why didn’t you do what you wanted?”
“Oh, I can imagine your reaction. A stranger comes up and starts hugging you.”
“I don’t know… maybe I needed it back then. And you were trying to make me laugh.”
“Yes, I tried. And failed.”
“And then you asked me out.”
“And you said yes.” — a pause. — “You never loved me. All these years, I knew it.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. I know you found your love, but you can’t be together. I’ll manage. Will you?”
“I don’t know what love is. Attachment, responsibility… I don’t know. With you, I feel calm. You love me. What else is needed?”
“I love you. I love you very much. But to love and to know that you’re with me for some reason other than love… Why don’t you leave me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because I’m sick?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t understand. I’m afraid to leave you. You’ve done so much for me. You were there during my hardest times. How can I leave?”
“Pity. Obligation. But not love. When we make love, I feel like you switch off. You’re not with me. But you know, you’re the only person I ever trusted. And now… I’ll manage.”
“You know everything. I never hid it. There was nothing between us.”
“You’re made for each other, I admit that. I saw you together. The way you looked at him. And he at you. Why aren’t you together?”
“We searched for each other too long, waited too long. But don’t torment me, I’m going insane. I can’t leave you, do you understand? I can’t. I love you—not the way people talk or write about it, but in my own way. You mean a lot to me.”
“And not the way you love him. And not the way he loves you.”
“That’s different. You don’t understand. So many years. So long.”
“I want to let you go, but I can’t. I can’t. You should leave. I’ll manage, really. I can’t watch you suffer. I understand—it’s not easy with me. My illness exhausts not only me, but you even more. You’re tired of my mood swings, depressions, breakdowns. I’m tired too. But I have to live with it for the rest of my life, and you shouldn’t have to endure it. It’s not your burden. We should have talked about this long ago. I dragged it out, afraid you’d leave, hoping, waiting, thinking you might learn to love me. And now I understand—all my attempts and hopes have collapsed. They were meaningless.”
He touched her face, gently tracing her cheek with his fingers.
“How I wish I could see even a drop of love for me in your eyes. How I wish.”
He barely brushed her lips; she closed her tear-filled eyes. He kept kissing her—slowly, tenderly. Pulling away for a second, he whispered words of love, his heart breaking at the thought that this was the last time she would let him touch her, kiss her. And he continued.
In that very moment, she realized how strong his love was. She moved closer, placed one hand on his chest, wrapped the other around him. His warmth—so familiar now—his scent, his gentle lips drove her mad. For the first time, tenderness toward him awakened inside her.
Sometimes she wondered why she had lived with him for so many years, but then she remembered—lacking conventional beauty, she had been drawn to his kindness, his attentiveness, his individuality, his reliability. Only now did she see how charming he was, how much love he carried. He needed her—as a woman, as a friend. They had truly grown close; he had entrusted her with all his secrets, opened his soul, and let her into his heart. She was grateful for that trust, and it was exactly why she couldn’t leave him. But she herself had allowed herself to become everything to him. The meaning of his life.
He suddenly pulled away and turned aside. He had no strength left. Slowly, he rose from the couch, but lacked the resolve to step away or leave the room, now filled with the dim light of dusk. The atmosphere—tense, yet strangely mysterious—saturated everything. Something was about to happen; he felt it. That’s why he didn’t leave her alone in this strange place, filled with passion, tenderness, romance… and the pain of two people so close, yet so different. People with feelings both inexplicable and clear. They loved—differently, but still loved.
“Why? Why are you pulling away now? Why? I need your warmth, your embrace, your love. Now. Don’t go. Please.”
“I… How I wish I were hearing this under different circumstances. You’ve never asked me before. Never. You accepted, but you never asked. Why now, when I’m ready to let you go? A farewell?”
She stayed silent. Her tears hadn’t dried; they still slowly traced down her cheeks.
“Why?” — he couldn’t hold back, turned to face her, and for the first time raised his voice. — “Why, I’m asking you? Why are you tearing my heart apart? Why are you tormenting me?” — his voice dropped again, hoarse and quiet, filled with pain. — “I hate you. I hate you madly. I let myself be tortured. I tortured myself. And if you simply couldn’t love me—but you love someone else. And you were silent. Silent from the very first day. I hate you. And I watched. At first I tried to win your attention, to charm you, and then I understood. And now, in a single second, I’ve rid myself of my love for you—it just disappeared. I don’t need you anymore.”
He tried to sound indifferent, tried to make his words cold. He had to be convincing—for her. For her happiness.
“I don’t need you anymore. Suddenly, everything has become meaningless to me. I hope you’ll be happy. I’m glad things turned out this way. It’s a pity you had to wait so long.”
She stood up and walked toward him. Looked into his eyes—and saw everything she needed there.
“I want to love you. Now. This moment. I know—but it matters. It’s important. Just… a beautiful moment. With love and pain. Should I beg you? I’m asking. I’m begging.”
He held on, tried to look at her indifferently, tried to appear cold. Tried. But when there is love in your heart—can it really be hidden?
“Please. I never meant to hurt you. Forgive me. But why are you pushing me away now?” — she paused, thinking. — “Before… what was there before?”
“Hope. Waiting. Fantasy. Illusion.” — his voice was calm, but resignation echoed in it.
“You loved me, and that love was enough for both of us.”
“No. It was enough only for you. For me, it wasn’t—and you didn’t need it. So why are you asking me to love you now? What is this—some form of sadism?”
She was still crying.
“For some reason, right now I need your love.”
“But you can give nothing in return. How sad. How painful.”
She stepped closer. He felt the warmth of her body and couldn’t resist. The distance that had separated them minutes ago vanished. He looked into her eyes again and saw despair—and a plea. How desperately she wanted to feel his warm, gentle lips again, his strong embrace.
“I was never indifferent to your feelings. And I always needed your love. You waited so long—you’re tired. I understand. I wish things had been different, but what happened, happened. And I know one thing—you are important to me. I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t want to be alone with your love—you’re afraid. I distracted you from thoughts of him. For you, I was like a game—something to escape into, to shut out the world, your problems. But I’m tired.”
She moved even closer, touched his cheek with her slender fingers, looked into his eyes—and memories awakened in her, rushing through her mind. All those years he had been beside her.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, barely audible.
“You don’t need to ask forgiveness for not having love in your heart.”
She smiled—unexpectedly—and her lips touched his. He closed his eyes and embraced her.
She loved him—as much as she could. Not the way he loved her, not the way she loved the other—but she did love him. And she would give him that love. He had to know.
He kissed her neck, and she whispered how much she needed him, how empty the world felt without him.
And then she cried again, and he comforted her again. And… she looked at him with complete sincerity…
“I… love… you. I love you.”
Her voice trembled, a faint smile touched the corners of her lips, and her eyes were full of hope.
He held her tighter—and closed his eyes.
