Just Say It

"Just say it," you silently reminded yourself. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't.

On a cold autumn night of October, the moon was at its zenith when you were woke up by the sound of your phone ringing.

You grabbed it nonchalantly, planning to hang up immediately. No one likes to be interrupted in their sleep, but the name that shone on the screen changed your mind.

You picked up the call, withheld your breath as you waited. A deep and cold voice soon sounded in your ears, “Lina,” It was the same voice that you had craved to hear, even though you know it wasn't right.

However, you can tell there's something different between this voice and the one that rang within your head millions of times. This voice was the same, but deeply laced with sorrow and despair.

It was then you proceeded to hear the news that brought tears to your eyes, the death of your sister. Your heart squeezed in pain, but you also felt pleasure. This wasn't right, you knew but you couldn't control your feelings.

You couldn't help it, the moment he stood on the altar, with your sister in hand and not you, the relationship between you and her had deteriorated, becoming twisted, only that it was one sided, and she knew nothing at all.

She didn't know, that summer day, you were in the library, drawing. She didn't know he came up to you, glanced at your drawing and said in the most sincerest tone you ever heard, blunt and honest “It's beautiful.”

She knew nothing of how he occupied your mind all the time, she knew neither the countless times you imagined him by your side, nor the fact that your heart beats for him.

She knew nothing as she stood at the altar, her hazelnut hair laced with lilies. As she uttered her vows, she knew nothing of how your palms bleed as your fingers dug into your skin.

"Just say it," you silently reminded yourself. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't.

You love her, you really do, but you couldn't just let it go. She was innocent, she knew nothing, but you wanted to paint her with all the sins of the world. You wanted to justify you were right for hating her that stole your love away, even though you knew she done none of those.

"Just say it," you silently reminded yourself. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't.

However, for reasons unbeknownst to you, you held back. You did nothing as they said their vows, did nothing when they exchanged their rings, and said nothing when the priest asks for objection.

You stood before the grave, lilies in your hands as you laid it in front of the tombstone. Then, you turned around to gaze at him, the husband of your sister, your sister that now laid six feet under the ground.

His blue eyes were sunken, suffering from insomnia. His back was still straight, however it lost the imposing disposition he always carries with him like second nature.

His midnight hair was ruffled, clothes messy, an appearance that he would never have let passed by due to his own discipline. One look at him, you knew this was a man who had lost his everything.

You couldn't restrain the sick joy in your heart when you thought of her death, but you also couldn't ignored the pain of having your heart cut out accompanying it. Emotions, so complicated, tangled and intertwined with each other in tight knots.

You stayed still the rest of the day, sitting down, coping with your emotions barely enough to not burst out in tears from the stress that's weighing on you.

The guests started to dissipate as the sun went down and the moon started to rise. You were still sitting at the table, while he was kneeling before the grave of your sister.

You couldn't bear it any longer, how he looked at your sister like she was his everything, his entire universe. That gaze of his that never left any space for you seemed to be still present in his eyes even after your sister departed from the world.

"Just say it," you silently reminded yourself. You knew you'd regret it if you didn't.

However, you would still regret it even if you did. You knew, but yet you still did it. Why are you doing this, even when you clearly know the end?

“James,” You called his name in a shaky whisper, contrary to your expectation, he didn't even turn his head to look at you, his vacant eyes still stared at the tombstone before him.

The burst of anger came together with a rush of adrenaline. You stood up, your hands fisted his clothes and shook him madly “Can't you just forget about my sister and look at me for once! I love you! I always have, since the day I first saw you! ”

You shouted, all the things you kept locked in your heart was being unshackled one by one, coming out of your mouth in the form of words. “I met you first, I saw you first, I was the one who fell in love with you first!”

Falling in love with someone first doesn't let you get an advantage, it doesn't mean your love will be returned. You knew this, you knew it clearly from the bitter relationships around you. However, you used it as a reason why he should love you, even though you understood it was riddled with flaws.

Tears was streaming down your face, your hands still balled up in his shirt. You definitely looked terrible, you don't need a mirror to know it. However, you couldn't care about that now. You want to know, no, you need to know.

He finally reacted, only to shake your hands off before he stood up, a condescending smile on his face. “I don't care, ” His words was blunt and honest, just like that day you first met him in that library, where he honestly praised your art.

“No matter how deep you proclaim your love is for me,” He paused, a self-mocking smile on his face, “You're not her. She's my everything, and you aren't.” Maybe he was mocking himself for not being able to protect her, maybe he was mocking himself for falling so deep in love.

One thing's for sure, you're both idiots in love.

The next day, you received another call. James was found in front of the grave of his deceased wife, with a slit wrist, and a smile upon his face.

"I said it," you silently told yourself. You still regret it anyways.