That was all you had with you then, two suitcases full of everything and nothing. You compartmentalized them, your clothes, your paperwork, your cash, you dreams, your hopes, your ambition. A dead weight from the past, freedom for the future.

Yes, leave, check out of the hotel, for the kingdom far beyond. I will not hold you back. But don’t expect me to still be here when you decide to return.

I will not wait by the light of a million candles, nor will I cry in your absence. The candles have long been put out, the tears dried. You are still not here.

No more thunderstorms in the middle of the night. No more torrents of tears, lashing of words, thundering of doors, shivering in fear, left out in the rain. I will not spend my days in a grey daze. I am better off without you.

Trapped in a circle we sought to climb over the silver walls, all the while deceiving everyone else all is intact, all is blissful, it’s a happily-ever-after. But this thing is a farce, a sham, the walls can crumble as easily as they are formed, like the vows that rolled off your tongue. Do not make promises that can be broken.

And when you decide to return you would realize that I’ve packed my two suitcases and left as well. You’ve missed your flight.

That was what I would have done, but circumstances prevented you from executing it. I would have gladly disappeared before you could push me away further, if it could alleviate your pain, if it could clear your doubts, if it could make you decisive enough to annul this charade, if you had asked. See how much I loved you. And when you sat on the window ledge that night I am convinced that no one else mattered to you. “What is my reason for living?” you cried.

I am glad I took the path you could not. Or have I? Your image still haunts me as if in a mirror.