'I lied,' I confessed; it’s funny how two words can make my insides tremble.
'Why did you?' you asked, calmly, but your eyes were asking a different question and telling a different story. I stared right into your eyes and I saw burning flames made up of hurt, anger and disbelief. Among these, I searched for love and forgiveness and there I found them—together, hand-in-hand but pain—and everything else—came between them and knocked them down. 'Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?'
And that was it. The moment I heard the word ‘truth’, I was pulled back to that night when we were staring at the city lights; with our fingers intertwined with each other; us not talking, just staring at the beautiful city below us; me wanting to be with you for the rest of my life. I remembered looking at you that same night and touching your face. You asked why and I just smiled but really, I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t a dream, that I wasn’t dreaming. I was pulled back to that time when being yours—and yours alone—was the only thing I wanted. I was pulled back to those times when we were so certain that we would end up with each other. Thinking about it now, well, we could have—if only I didn’t lie.
'I didn’t tell you the truth because that means losing you and losing you means having to live a life without you. And I don’t want that to happen,” I wanted to say. This, I was sure, was what I wanted to answer.
"You lost me the moment you chose to lie to me instead of telling me the truth and saving me from lies that come with unbearable pain,’ you said as if you can read my mind.
'I know and I’m sorry,' was the only thing I managed to answer.”
— i.v.c., Lies