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The moment she told me, that no longer I am the one she longs, a new end is what I could see, where my life is just another history. She wasn't the one, I always knew, but deep inside I always deny. She came and changed and now she was gone and it all end. The process is what we call past and the crossroads is my present. My persistency is what brought me to edges and all she cared if my ties matched her wedges. I wasn't what I am now, I wasn't what I used to be. It's always somewhere hollow l am somewhere in between. I knew the exact moment. The moment when I was so hurt that I felt numb. It wasn't something chaotic rather calm. Too calm to be real.
The commotion around me subsided. I was sitting with pictures surrounding me. The memories I once cherished were all scattered in different pieces of papers. I coughed twice. The sound reminded me of the isolation once again. After I walked down from the hospital leaving my husband, my lover in there; the doctor advised me to be in self isolation too. Lucky they said, I was not to infected by my husband. But that's the question I asked myself. Am I really though? I vowed to be in his sickness, but here I am sitting in the house we built together, all alone. I asked him once, does he want to be a part of history when he dies or does he want a life of ordinary? He didn't even blink to think and choose himself as a part of the boring mortal history. I wish he didn't now. I wanted my darling husband to cook one more burnt batch of lasagna and pretend that is the best I ever had in my entire life. The misanthropic nature of mine, already made me an isolated person but with him around, I found the space where I belong. And now that he is lying in a death rope due to this catastrophic circumstances, I don't feel like I have a place anymore. Being an orphan was bad enough, I didn't choose that fate. But this, him, his love, his arms, his warmth, his heart, all once was mine. It was written in all the pictures, how happy his presence made me. How our rainy days of love was conquered by his dedication to woo me like he did in the baseball match of summer of 99. I never thought I will be alone again. Not after the second in-vitro treatment we went through. We decided our relationship might not bloom flowers, but it will surely grow up to be beautiful and embark strength. Now, finally the time has arrived. A flower would be blooming. A symbol of our love, life inside me. But at the cost of him. I lost everything when I saw him at 16. I lost to the fate. I lost my parents but I gained him. Now that I am about to gain a person, I am losing again. To fate and to life.