"Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard. Oh, take me back to
the start."
Those words echoed in my head as Archa spoke that night. Her voice was low, almost
trembling, as she confessed her struggles—how she was being forced into a marriage with
someone she didn't love, and how tangled her emotions had become.
It feels like another lifetime when Anne sat across from me, her eyes filled with tears she
couldn't hide. I can still remember the way the light in the café cast shadows across her
face, accentuating the sadness that I knew had been simmering just below the surface. I'd
seen it in the way she sometimes hesitated to laugh, as though happiness was something
fragile, something fleeting. But that night, it all came pouring out.
"Artimis," she said, her voice low and shaky, "I don't want to marry him." Her words hung in
the air, as if by speaking them, she could somehow rewrite her fate.
I remember the jolt I felt, hearing her say it so plainly. I had known she was struggling, could
sense it in the way she clung to our moments together, but I had convinced myself it was
nothing more than passing anxiety. Hearing her voice it, though—hearing her actually say
she was trapped in this life she didn't want—brought a painful clarity to everything.
"Then don't," I had said, my own heart pounding as I reached for the simplest answer. I
didn't want her to be bound by obligations or expectations, not when I could see the weight
they placed on her. "You deserve to live the life you want."
She gave a sad smile then, one that still haunts me. "It's not that simple, Artimis. My
family—they see him as the perfect choice. They don't care about how I feel. To them,
happiness is a luxury, something secondary to duty and tradition."
I sat there, helpless. I wanted to grab her hand and tell her to run, to break free and never
look back. But I was caught in my own web of emotions, feeling as though I was complicit
in a tragedy that had no escape. And maybe, somewhere deep down, I knew that my
feelings for her only made things more complicated.
"I don't want to lose you," she had continued, her voice soft and tinged with a kind of
desperation that tore at me. "I know this…whatever this is between us, it's dangerous. But
you're the only one who understands. With you, I feel like I can breathe."
It was In that moment, staring at her across the table, that I knew. I knew that no matter
how I tried to deny it, I was falling for her. I was so wrapped up in her pain, in her struggle,
that I couldn't see anything else. And, God, I wanted her to be free. I wanted her to be
happy, even if that meant I would never get to be a part of that happiness.
"Maybe we should just be friends," I had whispered, the words bitter on my tongue. I was
trying to do the right thing, to put her needs above my own. But it felt like I was tearing out a
piece of myself in the process.
Her gaze fell then, her disappointment clear. "You don't get it, do you?" she said, almost to
herself. "You're my escape. You're the only thing that makes all this bearable. And I don't
know how to let that go."
I remember sitting there, frozen, wishing for some kind of miracle. I wanted to scream that I
didn't want her to let go, that I was desperate to hold onto her just as much as she was
clinging to me. But instead, I had just nodded, swallowing the words that I would never say
aloud.
In that moment, I remember silently wishing that the engagement would somehow fall
apart, that fate would step in and break the chains that held her. But those were wishes,
dreams. And I was terrified of what it would mean to give them voice. It was selfish, maybe
even cruel, but I wanted her to be mine. I wanted to be the one to make her happy, even if I
knew it could never be that simple.
We sat in silence after that, two souls tethered by shared sorrow, bound by a love we could
never fully admit. And even now, looking back, I wonder if things could have been different.
If I could have spoken the words that lay unspoken between us, would it have changed
anything? Or were we always destined to be tangled in this impossible, beautiful mess?
All I know is that I loved her. I loved her then, as I love her now, in memories that flicker like
dying embers. And somewhere in those memories, I still hold onto the hope that she found
her way, that she broke free and learned to live the life she always deserved.