Because he loved her, he would let her go.
It hurt, it stung, she couldn’t breathe. But she knew it was because he loved her.
She loved him. It echoed in her mind.
Or, at least she thought she did.
How could she not, after all this time?
The aching pain surely was a confirmation of the questioned emotions.
He said he was letting her go because he loved her.
And she couldn’t believe it.
He was letting her go to roam the world, explore civilization, and find herself. He was letting her reach her true potential.
But she didn’t know if she wanted that anymore.
A wave of panic rose up in the back of her throat when she thought about boarding the plane to leave him. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.
She wanted him to fight for her, to say that they would have their perfectly normal life together as planned.
She wanted him to stop him. She wanted him to stop him from pursuing the uncertain by guaranteeing her the mundane certainty.
She had wanted to travel the world as a young woman, and take on the adventure. But now she wanted to become his woman. Was that so wrong?
Was that so outdated? So flawed? Morally incorrect?
Was she not reaching her potential, or was she making the most out of her potential?
Behind the panic, there was a surging anger. Why wouldn’t he fight for her?
Why wouldn’t her ask her to settle down, and be his?
Why would he give up on her?
She wanted to punch him, hurt him, shake some sense into him.
But in his mind, this is how he showed he believed in her.