In my victory I lost. I hypothesized a calculated risk would grant me unending glory, that I would never face defeat but I was wrong. Little did I know that the amount of energy I spent to lift me up to the pedestal was doubled, even tripled to pull me down to the lowest of grounds. I belittled the power of karma, the retaliation of a broken heart, the mirroring of my deed. I hurt and get hurt in return.

His sobs were stabs of a hundred knives onto my chest. I bleed for each drop of tear that falls down from his eyes swollen from days of crying. I choke to the sound of his slurred speech, words I can barely decipher, as there were more sobbing than talking.

I thought I’ve heard enough but each time a word of love and tireless wait comes out of his mouth I hear him slowly breaking down and I find myself with wet cheeks, blurry eyes and heavy breathing to the rhythm of his own. I knew then we were one in spirit. My wall had fallen as I was into tears.

His world was shattered by my painful decision. He was the heartbroken and lost. I was the cause. I only warned him so several times before that this could happen. He ignored it the first and many times over. It was never my intention but I knew somehow it was to happen. I just didn’t have enough courage to set him free until days ago.

He was as fragile as a blossom crushed by the hands of time and a heartless spectator. He was a child lost to wander in the wild devoid of maternal care and love. He was a cloud swayed afar by the merciless wind.

I was the spectator, I was the mother and I was the wind. I caused him pain which I inflicted upon myself. In my conquest of fighting for what is morally right I have won but in the conquest of my greatest fear and in my quest for eternal love and happiness I lost.