I kept my gaze on his scrunched brow, his eyes glossed over and slightly squinted as if he were trying to pierce me with his gaze. I looked away, hoping that it would somehow protect me from the feelings that well up inside of you when you are being accused.
"I want nothing to do with you, " he said with a certainty that made me wonder if he had given this same guilt-ridden speech to someone before. "I don't care what you decide to do from here on out, and how you decide to proceed, but I am done with you."
At that moment I felt a part of me die. It was a fragment, but still large enough for me to feel the ache as my heart withered into the abyss where hopes and dreams get lost forever.
Here was the man I had looked up to for years turning his back on me because he thought I had turned my back on him. Boy was he wrong. This was the man who taught me about truth and forgiveness, and here he was, unwilling to put into practice either concept and extend me grace. Perhaps it was because I hadn't extended any to him, but when was retaliation ever a means to an end? Especially considering who he was.
... and the relationship never looks the same.
By Victoria Rosa