Background story: Amelia and Leo are friends right now, but it's getting hard to do that - to be friends. It's clear that they still love each other, but their complicated past is too heavy of a burden to bear. They talk almost everyday about little things like how their day was, or what events they've been to, and occasionally, they have late-night "real talks". They pour their hearts into everything they say - even if it's just for a couple of minutes - and this is the core of their friendship. They're honest with each other - at least most of the time. Some things just can't be said.
EXCERPT FROM BOOK 3 (written in Amelia's perspective):
Late night talks with Leo can get really intense sometimes – we got into the deep-talks, when we just say whatever is on our minds.
I knew he would ask, but it still surprised me when he said,
“Do you love me at all anymore, Amelia?”
He’s my ex, he’s still devastated about the breakup, so obviously he would ask. What else was there to expect? I don't blame him.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Okay.”
I knew that his burden would only get heavier, not lighter. He loved me, I knew that – hell, I’ve always known that – but it was too late now. I’ve already suffered more than necessary, cried for too many nights into my pillow, felt too many tears fall onto my cheeks and into my hands. I’ve cried so much for so long that I felt empty for months – it wasn’t even a numb feeling; it was as if I couldn’t feel anymore, as if I were incapable of feeling, while all I’ve been doing is feeling. I can’t stand to invest so much time, energy, and love into him again, purely for the reason that I was no longer strong enough to do it again. I can’t go back in time – I have to keep moving forward.
But I lied when I said I didn’t love him. Of course, I love him: he is the only person I know who truly understands me. He knows my family background, he knows and accepts me for who I am, he knows that I’ve been to hell and back, he knows I’m capable of loving him again (even if I didn’t say it), and most of all, he knows I’m selfless. He knows I care about others much more than myself, that I would do absolutely anything for the people I cared about.
I love him – that’s the truth. It’s not because we did things together, or that I confided in him about so many things. I love him in the best-friend-way and the romantic way. And when I say to myself (and everyone) that I’m over him, I meant that “I’m over him, but I still love him. He’ll always have this piece of me that I can’t get back, and that’s okay. I love him, I want him to be with me, not anyone else. I want the best for him, but I know that I’m not the best for him. So, there are sacrifices to be made, sacrifices that will be hard to make, but worthwhile in the long-run." If I were to tell people this – my family, my friends – they would not understand. They would say “so in other words, you’re not over him.”
It is a tough, tragic, horrible reality.
If I had said “yes, I still love you”, I’d be sucked back into the cycle of a honeymoon period, fighting about the past, breaking up, getting back together, and so on. I’m tired of it – I want stability.
He’s said that he’s changed and I agree – we’ve both changed. But I don’t think we’ve changed enough to forget the past, to rewrite the course of fate, to repair what was broken in the first place.
We are two broken people who thought could fix one another, bit by bit. We’re too broken to have another future together as lovers. But as friends, it could work.
I believe it will work.
I have to.
EXCERPT FROM BOOK 3 (written in Amelia's perspective):
Late night talks with Leo can get really intense sometimes – we got into the deep-talks, when we just say whatever is on our minds.
I knew he would ask, but it still surprised me when he said,
“Do you love me at all anymore, Amelia?”
He’s my ex, he’s still devastated about the breakup, so obviously he would ask. What else was there to expect? I don't blame him.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Okay.”
I knew that his burden would only get heavier, not lighter. He loved me, I knew that – hell, I’ve always known that – but it was too late now. I’ve already suffered more than necessary, cried for too many nights into my pillow, felt too many tears fall onto my cheeks and into my hands. I’ve cried so much for so long that I felt empty for months – it wasn’t even a numb feeling; it was as if I couldn’t feel anymore, as if I were incapable of feeling, while all I’ve been doing is feeling. I can’t stand to invest so much time, energy, and love into him again, purely for the reason that I was no longer strong enough to do it again. I can’t go back in time – I have to keep moving forward.
But I lied when I said I didn’t love him. Of course, I love him: he is the only person I know who truly understands me. He knows my family background, he knows and accepts me for who I am, he knows that I’ve been to hell and back, he knows I’m capable of loving him again (even if I didn’t say it), and most of all, he knows I’m selfless. He knows I care about others much more than myself, that I would do absolutely anything for the people I cared about.
I love him – that’s the truth. It’s not because we did things together, or that I confided in him about so many things. I love him in the best-friend-way and the romantic way. And when I say to myself (and everyone) that I’m over him, I meant that “I’m over him, but I still love him. He’ll always have this piece of me that I can’t get back, and that’s okay. I love him, I want him to be with me, not anyone else. I want the best for him, but I know that I’m not the best for him. So, there are sacrifices to be made, sacrifices that will be hard to make, but worthwhile in the long-run." If I were to tell people this – my family, my friends – they would not understand. They would say “so in other words, you’re not over him.”
It is a tough, tragic, horrible reality.
If I had said “yes, I still love you”, I’d be sucked back into the cycle of a honeymoon period, fighting about the past, breaking up, getting back together, and so on. I’m tired of it – I want stability.
He’s said that he’s changed and I agree – we’ve both changed. But I don’t think we’ve changed enough to forget the past, to rewrite the course of fate, to repair what was broken in the first place.
We are two broken people who thought could fix one another, bit by bit. We’re too broken to have another future together as lovers. But as friends, it could work.
I believe it will work.
I have to.