He’d promised to meet her at the old bridge and he’d been there, though she hadn’t been able to see him. For hours she waited and he never came. With a slump in her shoulders, she left, her head hung as low as the sun over the mountains.
“He never came,” she whispered as a tear trailed from her eye.
He watched, knowing that he could never let her know that he’d come. “I’m sorry,” he breathed in a voice that couldn’t reach her ears, no matter how closely he stood.
She was done with this, done with everything. She had given it her all and nothing good had come of it. She was tired and ready for it to be all over. To tell the truth, she had been ready for it to be over months ago, but had she stopped then? No, like a dupe she had kept going even when she knew that it wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
She had been lying to herself far more than he ever had. After all, he’d have never been able to lie to her for so long if she hadn’t ignored all the warning songs and allowed this farce of a relationship to continue. She just hadn’t wanted to be alone and so had manipulated every flaw, every moment that pointed out that he wasn’t in it as far as she was in her mind to make them appear as if they were nothing more than negative thinking.
The actual end of the relationship was only bitter because she had held on long after he’d already let go. And no matter what her friends said about how he was scum for dragging this out longer than it needed to, she knew that they were wrong. He had shown signs that he wanted out, but she had ignored them, putting off arguments and conversations that he wanted to have because she didn’t want it to end.
It had ended anyway and while he wasn’t blameless in all of this, neither was she.