That morning, the sun had only climbed halfway. Jakarta air still carried the dampness from last night’s rain. I was staring blankly at a laptop screen I hadn’t touched since dawn when a message came in. Brief. Clear. And heartbreaking.
She said we couldn’t continue. That this had to stop. That this was the end. Because of one thing that had always hung over us like a thin mist. It wasn’t clearly visible, but always there. Approval.
I froze for a long while. I didn’t reply right away. My mind kept circling the same question. Why now? Just two days ago, I had dinner with her family. We laughed. We talked. We shared stories. No signs of tension. No quiet storm behind their smiles.
A few hours after that message, she asked to meet. Said she wanted to talk in person. I went to the place she mentioned. She was already there, sitting with her head down. Her shoulders rising and falling. Her tears arrived before any words could. Every sentence she tried to speak came wrapped in sobs.
I could only sit across from her, quiet. I didn’t know what to say. Because how do you respond to something you don’t even understand?
Our relationship had only lasted six months. But the path to those six months felt like climbing a muddy trail after rain. Slippery. Hesitant. Full of doubt. It took courage just to believe, let alone move forward.
I remember how she once said she didn’t believe in love. She built tall cold walls around her heart. But I never tried to force my way through. I just waited outside. Gently. Patiently. Until she opened a small gate. And when she did, I knew I wanted to stay.
We weren’t a couple who showed affection loudly. But there was comfort in our quiet exchanges. In our simple morning texts. In the silences that never felt awkward. In the small plans we made. They didn’t always happen, but were still enough to warm our hearts.
I remember the way she listened closely. The way she laughed at my bad stories. I remember how she used to say, “You don’t always have to be strong,” and those words felt like a tent I could rest under during a storm.
We had started talking about the future. A small house on the edge of the city. Baby names. Who would be the more patient parent if the child ended up chatty like the father. I once joked, “If you get mad, I won’t fight back. I’ll just leave for a bit and come back once you’ve cooled down.” She laughed. I still hear that laugh in my head.
And then it all fell apart. Not because we gave up. But because sometimes the world doesn’t give enough room for two people who want to be together.
That approval, which once felt so close, turned out to be the canyon we couldn’t cross. Not because we didn’t want to. But because there were unseen currents pulling us in opposite directions.
After that day, she deactivated all her social media. As if trying to erase herself from my world. But how do you erase someone who had already become part of your imagined future?
I wanted to call her. To ask how she was doing. But I couldn’t. There was a wall now. One too cold to climb. And I know she feels the same. I know she still wants this as much as I do. But we both understand. This isn’t about will. It’s about circumstance.
It’s been a week since that morning. But it feels like just yesterday. Time doesn’t truly heal. It just makes the pain feel more familiar.
Sometimes I replay our small memories. Wandering through bookstores and letting time slip away. Sitting in silence on a park bench. Waiting out the rain at a minimart porch. Sharing a raincoat that didn’t fit us both. The little things. Now souvenirs from a short chapter.
If love is a journey, then we were two people who chose the same path but were stopped at a fork with no road ahead. And all those plans are now just signs pointing toward a place we’ll never reach.
I don’t blame anyone. Not her. Not her family. Not fate. Maybe this is the universe's way of saving us from deeper hurt. Or maybe it’s just how the world teaches us. Not all love is meant to stay.
Now I’m trying to walk forward again. Though every step still feels a little empty. Because how do you truly move on when a part of you is still sitting where your eyes last met?
Something broke. But it didn’t shatter. Something left. But it never truly disappeared.
Because some people, even if they don’t stay in our lives, will always live in our memories. As a season that never returned but once made our days a little warmer.
I’m not whole right now, and maybe I won’t be for a while. But sometimes, being in pieces is the only proof that it meant everything.
John Mayer - Edge of Desire
