Love is meant to be broken

The breeze is cool, but not cold. The day's heat had passed, and the sky was adorned with bright colours, exactly like the first time. The wood planks beneath my feet smoothed down after years of holding together love that was bound to be broken. I was also at fault in believing this bridge could keep our love close to its heart. I watch as lovers as foolish as I was are clasping their locks to this bridge, believing their love is safe. I felt the same once, so I do not interfere. One day, they will wake up to seize the day, then realise their love was all a lie. I take a deep breath and run my fingertips along all the hidden broken love stories on display for the world to see. The locks jingle, and the sound of their pain makes me feel understood. I stop, I dare myself to look at the gold heart-shaped lock with "M + H" engraved in the center. I reach out to touch it, but as my fingers meet the lock holding together a love meant to be broken, I break. Tears stream down my face, and my heart feels as if it is being ripped out of my chest. I struggle to breathe as I hold the love I once felt. It feels like it was only yesterday that I bound my love to this bridge, but not once did I think this lock would imprison me in my pain and ruin my life.

Paris had always been my dream, from the moment my elementary school teacher, Miss Mooney, spoke of its wonders; since then, I had been obsessed. I had believed my whole life that Paris was my true love; it was the city of romance, of course. I never would have dreamed that Paris would be the place I hated most.

He made my dream a reality. I believed he was to be my first and last love from the moment he spoke to me. My parents adored him; they reminded me every day how perfect he was. "A respectable gentleman", they would tell me. I thought of him the same. How could I not? He provided and cared for me, and he also respected me and loved me. I believed I was lucky to have him in my life.

So when he surprised me with tickets to Paris on our second anniversary, it felt as though my dream had come true. He loved me, and I loved him, the perfect man for me. I was so in love with this man that I did not see him for who he was. How could I think he wasn't the man I loved when he whisked me away to my dream city? He wined and dined me in the city of Love, and on our last day, led me to the bridge. He pulled a gift wrapped in a silk ribbon from his pocket, and inside lay the item that would hold me captive for as long as we both shall live. At the time, I was more in love than I ever thought I could be, and we clasped the engraved gold lock to the Pont des Arts Bridge to bond our love together for eternity. Together, we threw the small key into the water below, and our lips met as my last chance of freedom sank to the bottom of the River Seine.

He proposed on that bridge seconds after imprisoning me in my love. I, of course, said yes, tightening his grip on me. The first few months of our marriage were bliss. Every time I gazed into his eyes, I was reminded that he was mine and I was his. He was my love, my nourishment, my life. I did not need anything else. As the months turned into a year, things began to change. He turned into my hatred, but I still yearned for his love with every waking moment. His love was thinning, but it was a drug; with every rage-filled fight, the minutes of love he would show me afterwards were addictive. He reassured me he would never lay his hands on me again, but every mistake I made was a grenade, and he was a bomb waiting to explode.

One day, he slipped up, broke the wall hiding his true colours. He allowed the world to see the suffering I was enduring. He exposed himself for everyone to see, but it was my fault. I felt as though I was betraying him when the police officer asked me questions. I could feel his rage rippling through my veins despite his presence being behind bars. They assured me he could never touch me again, but I became obsessed with finding ways to bring him home. I needed his love despite the pain he would surely inflict on me; I hoped he did not hate me. I knew I could not save him, but I felt I had no other purpose; I did not know who I was anymore. I was a shell of who I used to be; I only knew what he made me.

I began to realise the power he has over me; day and night, my thoughts returned to him. I tried to find myself again and succeeded; I was finally healing. I did not truly understand what he was doing to me until my mother explained the pain and suffering he had been inflicting on me. I had an epiphany and chose to free myself from his grasp. I was no longer the weak victim he continued to manipulate, and he was no longer my captor. Something was holding him to me; it was like I couldn't truly get rid of him. He was constantly haunting my every movement. Deep down, my love for him still simmered brutally against my soul. I knew what I had to do to break free from him.

I returned to Paris, once the city that held my heart in its welcoming hands; now it is the city that is holding my pain with its deceitful claws. I walked the paths we once walked with our fingers interlocked. I sat in the restaurants where we once sipped wine and feasted in together. I reminisced about the powerful love we once shared. As my feet met the bridge that ruined my life, I thought of him fondly one last time. I remembered the times our lips met pure with love, the times when he held me close to him, afraid of letting go, and the times he loved me more than life itself. I said till death do us part with every truth in my body, too blindly in love to see that his sinister truth was disguised with the love and care I desired.

As I sit here now holding the lock, still desperately holding to a love long gone, I am ready to be set free. I am ready to take back my life and my love. He will no longer be my captor because now I see him for who he is. He isn't the monster destroying me piece by piece; he is just a small man not worthy of my love, care and respect. I cradle the key I found deep in his jacket when he was still the love of my life. He must've known in the back of his mind that someday the lock holding our love may need to be broken. As I press the key into the lock and hear the overwhelming click as it unlocks, releasing our love and breaking our bond. I felt calm for the first time in years now that I am free. I conquered my deepest fear and defeated him. I have taken back my freedom. My heart was healed, and even though our love was never meant to be, maybe someday I will find love that is not meant to be broken.