Still In Love With You

"Please don't leave me, Emily," Gerald begged her to stay for the umpteenth time this evening.

He tried to hold her hands, but Emily jerked his hands off hers.

Gerald hoped she would reconsider her decision. After all, they've been together for ten years.

"Please give me another chance, Emily. Please, I beg you. I can't live without you," Gerald said, tears were streaming down his face as he stood in front of her, blocking the doorway.

"It's not too hard if you try, you know? You'll get used to it soon," Emily replied, tucking a stray lock behind her ears.

Gerald had always loved that little habit of hers. She patted him on the shoulder and proceeded to drag her suitcase across the hallway.

Emily lifted her head and stared back at Gerald. The connection, the love, the emotions that they felt in each other's eyes when their eyes made contact, were somehow long gone. Emily felt as if she was looking at a stranger. She did not want to have such an image of her love.

Emily considered herself a simple girl. Even though she dreamt big, she had some small, simple dreams too. One of them was being with her love without having so much friction.

She was so in love with this man in front of her; she did not even realize when she stopped loving him.

Emily knew she was breaking his heart. But, she was breaking her own heart more. She sighed. She remained emotionless on the surface even though it was breaking her.

She, too, wanted to give him a hug and tell him that it was okay. She, too, wanted to stay. But…

Emily broke out of her stupor. Heaving a sigh, she dragged her luggage across the hallway. The door was standing between her and her freedom from this suffocating life.

Emily raised her hand and turned the knob. Inhaling a lungful of fresh air, Emily stepped outside. Her heels clicked against the gravel as she dragged her suitcase behind her. The cab was parked right outside the gate.

Her home was two hours away. She hadn't slept a wink since last night. She could catch up on her sleep.

The chauffeur helped her lift her luggage into the trunk and held the door open for her. She got in. She did not look back, because she knew she wouldn't be able to see his tear-stained face.

She took a deep breath and rested her head on the headrest and closed her eyes.

Gerald stood at the doorway, unable to believe his eyes. The love of his life, left just like that.

He promised he would be good from now on, and wouldn't create any more arguments. She did not even let him hug her—which is a first. Each and every argument had always been resolved by a simple hug and sorry.

Gerald sat down on the doorway. The coldness of the weather reminded him of her coldness.

His white t-shirt was full of tears and snot. He got up and went to their bedroom. No, it was no more theirs. He opened their wardrobe. All his clothes were neatly folded.

Gerald was messy. Emily knew it. Emily would always clean up after her. What would he do without her? Gerald leaned against their bed and sat down on the floor, burying his face in his palms.

Taking out his own bag, he packed whatever he could. His eyes were blurry, but his hands did not stop once. He never packed once in the past eight years. It was always her who would do that for them, folded and packed neatly in layers. She would do all the packing and he would do the carrying.

They were such a good fit. He couldn't stay in this house anymore. It was no more their home. Taking his jacket and keys from the stand, he walked out.

He was wearing denim jeans with a black t-shirt. He did not realize he was wearing the t-shirt inside out.

He had no energy to drive. He called his father. In twenty minutes, a car appeared in front of their house.

Throwing the backpack inside the car, he got into the front passenger seat and closed his eyes.

"Where to, Sir?"

"Downey Street," Gerald answered.

"Whitmore Towers, Sir?"

Seeing Gerald not answer his question, he stopped asking and turned the car towards his home.

Drops of tears fell from Emily's eyes. The road in front of her was so blurry. She never went anywhere without Gerald. She was more dependent on him than anyone could think of. What would she do without him?

She looked outside. The trees and light posts passed by. So many passersby came and went. Would he become yet another passerby in the path of her life?

"Miss, you okay?" The chauffeur looked at her through the rear-view mirror, his brows creased with worry. Even though he did not want to pry, he couldn't let a lady cry in his cab, could he? He called her a few more times, but she didn't respond. She was sniffling, so he continued driving.

On the other hand, Gerald reached the Whitmore Towers. The chauffeur woke him up saying, "Sir, we are home."

Gerald woke up with a start. "Home?" Soon, clarity returned. His heart resumed beating again, albeit at a slower speed. He dragged himself out of the car and walked up the stairs and stood in front of the metal gate.

'It has been eight years,' he thought. He ran his fingers on the metal gate. On it inscribed in big bold letters was 'Whitmore Towers'.

Pushing the gate open, he stepped into his home. Dropping the keys and the jacket on the couch, he ran to his bedroom on the second floor. It was the same, nothing changed and kept just the way he left it.

He could see it was cleaned carefully. Not a single speck of dust gathered on the surfaces—the frames, the statues, the paintings, the trophies—everything was clean. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. He deposited his backpack on the nearest chair and laid down on the bed.

"Ger, you're back?" Becky Whitmore, Gerald's mom asked. She was a lady of refined nature. Her hair was tucked neatly into a bun. She was holding a spatula in one hand, and her other hand held her smartphone.