Few days back when things seem falling apart and we both can’t find a fix for our own brokenness, I spoke to our landlady and told her that we might not renew anymore. We’re moving out – [Sam and I]. Not moving together. But moving out. Separately. Two places. Two beds. Two sets of pillow cases. Two suitcases. Two sets of everything apart.
We declared cease fire and it went well. But we can’t put our relationship on autopilot just because we were lazy to wrap the boiling pans back to their boxes and start packing an entire closet of our personal lives back to where they used to. Everything was just physically and emotionally exhausting just by thinking about it.
Everyday my eyes swell just by the thought of it. And even if I haven’t seen Sam’s eyes water – ever – during that restless week, I know that he has a soft spot for me. I know that he was hurting the same way. Even if he screens and shuts himself out of the drama, I know he feels as much as I do.
Two days of sleepless nights. Two days of introspection. Two days of trying out. And One day of working together. It’s a tasteful week for us. A buffet of emotion that I had no appetite for but was served forcefully for me to feed on. Thankfully, I know how to pray. It kept me well grounded even if it felt like I was losing it.
We hugged tight. Tighter than we ever hugged before.
It takes two souls to reunite. Two souls to forgive, to forget, to compromise, to commit and to learn. We learned well. [And continuously will.]
Two cups of coffee and a freshly cooked chicken with broccoli served on the table on a Friday morning. That was enough for our landlady to know that no one is moving out. And that her business is still in good hands. And that perhaps, she picked the right couple for her humble apartment.
Daily Prompt: Obvious
Photo Credit: pickywallpapers