The story should have ended about two years ago. But here I am, still involved and affected by a romantic story that never was. ---- and there they are, tiptoeing still, as if the story did not ended.
The truth is I have this dread of meeting or seeing I--. There is this atmosphere of awkwardness whenever we are near one another, as if our story just ended a week ago. As if, still I am one of this worst person in the whole universe that made a woman cry. A fool that continued, once in a while, to harbor wishful thoughts of what-would-have-been-if-this-is-what-should-I-had-done.
I know I had to let go, and last week I discovered that I must do so, with no more delay.
I— now had a new partner, which was also an acquaintance of mine. No one told me so. Not my college friends who are officemates of I-- and him. Not even my officemate college friend who is with me every single working day. I had discovered it when I—and him held each other’s hand discreetly. Even my college friends had to refer about it silently when I am around, apparently because they do not know how I will react even after all these years.
My book with I— must be totally closed and I had to let the two of them enjoy each other without the awkwardness whenever I’m around. I have to let myself go also and stop my own foolishness.