Love Shouldn't Die

Rosemarie ran her fingers softly over the map unfolded before her.

He was gone again. She could not believe that she had let him go. She could not believe that she had lost him again.

She had had him. She had touched him, assured herself that he really was alive and well. He had been breathing, and he had loved her just as much as she had loved him.

She saw it in his eyes.

Rose should have known, though. She should have known that he would not stay.

It was her fault. She let her guard down. How could she have?

But now, because she had stuffed up, he was gone again.

She fell back on the hard wooden chair with the thought that she would never see him again.

She didn't let that thought live, though. She banished it with an amazing speed.

Of course she would see him again. Of course she would.

There was no way she could not. She simply would not live if he was gone forever. She couldn't.

Rose breathed deeply as she sat, slumped, in the chair, her arms resting heavily against the rests. She would have to go find him again. She would have to leave everything behind, but she would travel all across the world to find him again, if that was what it took.

Not that she minded. No, it was all worth it.

He was worth it.

He was worth everything to her.

But as she sat there, near close to dropping out of sheer exhaustion, she really wondered.

Would she be forever happy if she were to go and retrieve him again?

She rubbed at her eye, hard, wanting to punish herself discreetly for the imbecile thought.

She would be happy forever as long as he was with her. And if he was not, she would never be fully complete.

But what if, when she returned with him, he disappeared once again? Would she let him go? Or chase after him in just another vain attempt to keep him by her side?

But no. Rose knew deep in her heart that these attempts to stay with him were not made in vain.

She loved and cared deeply for him, with every single part of herself, and love and care were not nearly close to vain.

Nothing she felt for this man was anywhere near vain.

As she sat there, battling against herself to keep her eyes open, she thought of him. Of how his large, calloused hands would touch her, hold her, in many different ways. Sometimes with a deep affection, like how he would brush her hair behind her ear, or sometimes with a lust so strong that the next morning she would feel stiff and bruised from where those hands had gripped her body.

Rose thought of how his thick brown hair would some days be hanging loose and damp well past his chin, or how on other days it would be tied back in a short ponytail, a few strands falling free to frame his gorgeous face.

And his voice. That deep, faintly Russian accent that could keep her by his side the whole day and night, just listening to the way it flowed. She would watch how his gentle yet strong lips would form the words, and would fall in love all over again.

But the thing she loved the most about her man, was how his dark eyes would stare into her's as if she was the most precious gift in the world he had been given. They showed her what words could not. Staring into them would literally freeze her body, but at the same time, lure her to him, where he would wrap his arms around her and whisper his love into her ears.

Rose stood abruptly, the sudden desire to once again be in his strong arms breaking her from her fatigue. She was going to find him again, there was no doubt about it.

She needed to find him again, otherwise her entire life would be spent unworthy of living.

She would be void of life if he did not return.

She would be incomplete.

Yet, even though she told herself over and over again that she needed this man in her life, there was an ever-constant nagging at the back of her mind.

It was true she loved him.

But why did she?

Rose had been nothing but good to him, and he was a gorgeous god in her eyes.

But . . . he had hurt her. Repeatedly. And he would continue hurting her until the day he died.

It was not his fault, though, she argued against herself. No, it was never his fault.

If anything, it was hers.

She had waited too long to “make a move.” And now . . . now it was too late.

She hurt everyday because of him, but, at the same time, not because of him.

It was a complicated mess, true, but Rose had no idea of how to get out of it.

If she left him to his family, did not attempt to bring him back once again, then surely she would never feel the pain he dealt her, and would never have to loose him again.

But life without him . . . it would be agony.

Though, if she went and fetched him again, she would have a maximum of 3 weeks with him until he would surely disappear again. And every day, she would be receiving the pain from knowing that he could never truly be hers, and she would exhaust herself by trying to watch him every second of every minute of the day.

Even thinking this, a wrench in her gut told her that there was no way she could go on without him. She would rather be dead. Gone. Nada.

She reached out and took the map in her hand, memorising the look and feel of it. This map had helped her before, and it would help her again.

It was the best gift she had ever been given. A helpful gift. A gift from him.

Staring at it, her eyes filled and slowly, tears ran down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw. Rose didn't bother to wipe them away, because no matter how uncomfortably it was, only more would fall to take their place.

Love was a very complicated thing, she realised as she cried. It could tell you many different things.

Part of her was wanting, no, begging, her to find him.

Another part was screaming at her not to, because she would be hurt even more, forever.

It was starting to seem like love and pain were connected, if not the same thing.

He was not good for her. Her had a family, and she could not deprive him of that.

She would hurt forever, but once again, he was worth it.

She wasn't, but he was.

And she had to do the right thing, no matter how hard that may be. He had a family, one who needed him. This just made her decision all the more difficult, though.

Rose breathed deeply through her nose, and exhaled slowly through her mouth. She moved her fingers to the top of the map, readying herself to tear it in two.

Her fingers twitched with the suspense of it, but no, she could not.

She could not tear their love apart like this.

If she was going to leave him, then she needed something to remember him by.

Why not the best thing he had ever given her? Seemingly better then his love, because the map did not hurt her.

She had the map, so she did not have to want it.

The map would live.

She set it carefully down on the table, once again running her fingers over the smooth creases separating it into quarters.

It was decided, even though it ripped her apart, as literally as if the map was torn in half.

Half of her was pain filled with love, the other half, love filled with pain.

She did not know for sure which side she had chosen, but she knew that she would not be searching for him ever again.

It was time to let go.