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The Final Choice

NOTE:
To read the first part of this story, "Choice", Click Here

To read the second part of this story, "The second Choice!", Click Here
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As she raised her head, she could see the mirror image of a vulnerable face and blood red eyes with tears flowing down the cheeks uncontrollably.

Six months ago, she had decided to break up with him, thereby ending the most special bond of her heart. In the span of these six months, there was not a single day, literally not even a single day, when he did not cross her mind. No matter how busy she was or how hectic her schedule was or how upset she was; he was always there, in the back of her head, and shutting her mind to other thoughts and focusing on him was like a bitter-sweet homecoming. Days were still easier to pass but the nights were difficult. There were times when she cried herself to sleep and there were times when his memories left her smiling. There were times when his thoughts were painful for her and there were times when they motivated her to keep moving forward. Some nights she spent, imagining spending them with him but some nights left her feeling uneasy.

Not that they shared bitter vibes. Even after six months of parting ways, they both knew that they could share possibly anything and everything under the sun with each other. Yet, things were not the same. She would no longer be able to smile at the innocent insecurity that used to engulf him when she wore “certain” kinds of outfits; and nor could she now command the right to playfully attempt to make him jealous. His arms would no longer be there to hold her and he would no longer tell her “I understand” when she hit her panic button. He would no longer tell her,”I don’t want you to date anyone else” and she would no longer draw happiness in honouring his words.

Nothing changed between them, yet everything did.

He wasn’t the first guy she loved. It was not certain if he would be the last either. But he would indeed be special for her, always. She had most of her first‘s with him and a lot of his first’s too were attributed to her. Although, in her past, she had been in a relationship-a step above dating-this was the first time, when to an extent, she had opened up her soul to someone. When someone had given her that space to discover a lot about her own self. It was with him that she discovered and experienced her desires. Co-incidentally, it was the same for him. He was the first guy to tell her with authority and conviction “to not date anyone else”, and she was the first girl he said this to. He played a crucial role in showing her what her passions were and where it was that her calling lay.

Of course she had been in love before too, but this was the first time she had lived it. And she had lived every bit of it! Happiness, pain, tears, smiles, joy, togetherness, separation, watch him falling out of love, and then in love with someone else, feeling happy for him, longing for him! She lived every bit of it, in every form.

That vulnerable face with blood shot eyes was not a reflection she usually saw. But once in a while, when it did appear, it indeed was difficult for her to handle herself. She fell to her knees on the bathroom floor and, she cried her heart out.

She then splashed water on her face, focusing her eyes and came out. She sat on her table and reflected on the sudden flush of emotions she was going through. That night, a part of her wanted to call him up and shout at him for no coherent reason, while another part of her, just wanted to be held and reassured that with time, everything would be fine. She knew well that love could not be forced, so she as well could not force herself out of it. That would only make things far more difficult for her. He is no longer a part of her life, he is gone and he is happy with someone else. No matter how painful it is, he is happy, and for the labour of love, she too has to ensure that in no way does she do anything that would be derogatory to the dignity of love. More so because, beneath this disturbed girl, lies the lady who loves him, loves him enough to respect his choices and rejoice in his happiness.

That night, she made another choice: To be her own anchor. She knew that she cannot depend on people to get her out of this. It was her life, her love, her decision to love him without being promised commitment and her decision to love him without expecting anything. Now was the time to stand by it. To ensure that the dignity of this love is held high. Precisely why she decided not to repress any of her feelings and took pride in who she was, what she thought and how she loved. Although that wasn’t rational and easily accepted by the societal norms, it was pure, unalloyed and intended no harm to anyone. And she made this conviction her harbor, for nothing, but the labour of love.



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Dear readers,
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