It will never be the same. You look at it again. There it lies so peacefully in your hand; calm, serene. Almost new. Nothing can destroy it anymore; no untold secrets, no ego clashes, no more misunderstandings. It looks perfect, the way you had always wanted it to be. Except for the jagged crack right across the middle. Nothing can break it again; it has already been broken. You crush it into a thousand pieces, throw it away. You don’t need it; you lived without it for so long, it was just a temporary phase. The gaping hole in your heart begs to differ. You look at the pieces; each shard reminds you of times bygone, revives your memories. Such memories! Each shard pierces you. The sobs resurface. You lean out of the widow, let the tears stream down your face. The wind is refreshing, cold against your tear stained face. The sounds of everyday city life filter through; a couple of men shouting, a child crying. Somewhere, someone is watching television. Life goes on. You know this; it would be absurd for it not to. You shut the window with a sigh. It will never be the same again. He had been there for you all along. Since the day you were born, he had always been there; helping you, supporting you. Loving you. You thought him weird, a nerd. By the time you saw how truly amazing he was, realized what he had done for you, how much he had given up, it was too late. One year later, he left. He left with promises to be back, with reassurances of “I’ll just be a phone call away”, left to his new life, of which you were just a minor part. He left with your heart..
The phone rings. You reach for it and pick it up,” Hello?”. “Hey”. His voice is deep and soothing. It makes you smile despite the hole in your heart. You say nothing. “I will be back you know?”. “I know”. You talk of movies and music. You ask him jokingly if he has found a new girlfriend yet. “Not yet, there seems to be a serious dearth of females here. Especially hot ones.” He asks you what books you have been reading. Trivial things. Trivial things that are more dear to you than he knows. You treasure these conversations, secretly stash them away in your heart shaped box. When you think back to all the time you have spent together, you can never recall the incessant fights, the endless arguments, the days of silence. It’s these conversations that stay in your heart forever, the deep sense of comfort you have when talking to him, as if nothing else really matters, as if he is right there beside you, and will be always. But he isn’t and he won’t. You become sober again. Many say that your bond is unnatural, that maybe you should not be relying on him for so long, that you should distance yourself. But they cannot even begin to comprehend how much he means to you, how you just innately understand each other, the endless conversations you have had with him without a saying a word, how you can be so random with him, discussing the color of alphabets, the sharpness of words. What you have is not unnatural; it’s special. You are still on the phone. The conversation starts to gravitate towards more somber issues. You listen in surprise as he talks about how lost and lonely he feels. He had never been this open before, never felt as vulnerable. He always seemed so strong and reliable, always in control. Slowly, it dawns on you that your relationship has matured. It truly never would be same again; he would no longer know, nor care, about every tiny detail of your life, you would no longer keep fighting over the remote, there would be no more codes, no more SUGTOS or Dissilat when parents were around. What there would be, instead, was trust, a deep understanding and respect, a bond stronger than the last. Unbreakable? Maybe not. You thought the previous bond unbreakable; the pieces, lying in the corner where you had thrown them, suggest otherwise. You look at the pieces and suddenly notice that amongst the shattered shards of the broken bond lies something astounding, something truly miraculous. There, amidst the redundant ruins, grows a new union, a new relationship, a new understanding. Like a phoenix reborn from its ashes, it matures and thrives, beautiful like the last, but with a vitality and strength that the last one did not possess. The hole in your heart slowly fills up. The scars will always remain, but as a worthwhile memory, rather than the throbbing ache it was. It will never be the same again; but maybe, it will be better.