Chris's phone rang four or five times before he finally picked up. I was already crying when I asked, "Why didn't you fight for us?"
I cried on the phone, pouring out all the years, the disappointment, the weight of everything. Chris didn't say a word. And I hung up.
Then I cried for hours—tears that carried thirteen years with them. Thirteen long years of being part-lover, part-flirt, part-passion, part-friend, part-confidant. And now, it was truly over.
No return. No hope. No more dreams. No more love. Most painfully—no more Chris.
He didn't even call back.
He didn't fight. He didn't say, "Call off the engagement. Marry me."
I was left only with my tears.
What followed was eight long years of longing that pressed on my heart like a stone.
Sometimes I wonder—what if I had ended the engagement, stood tall, and then called Chris to say, "I left him. Marry me." Would he have said yes? Or was he never really there?
He was a man of contradictions. Mysterious. Closed off. I never knew what he was truly feeling.
Now, remembering that night, my eyes fill with tears again. The regret still stings.
Tell me, my love—Chris—were all those moments a lie? Was it all just one-sided? Please… say something.
This silence is destroying me.