“It’s funny. I held back telling you I love you for so long. And now I’ve said it, I just can’t stop saying it.”
I smiled when you sent me that. I understood totally why you held back; I did too. What we were doing was so wrong, so much betrayal. To make it all the more serious by admitting it was love just seemed a taboo too far. We both knew it though, and had almost said it, skirted round it in other ways.
I really, really, REALLY like you.
I want to say more, but I shouldn’t.
I’m in deep. Too deep.
Then on the evening of my last day in the office, last day before maternity leave, you text me. You were a bit all over the place, worried about my leave, losing me, the start of an unknown chapter. I felt odd too, but we didn’t know why.
“Fuck it. I love you”
“I love you too x”
“Don’t respond, it makes me an awful person”
I was so happy, but scared as well. Suddenly what we were doing, being together, became more real than we could’ve imagined. This wasn’t a fling that would fizzle out (although we knew that really). This was serious, and neither of us knew how it could end. 2 partners, 4 children: two not even born yet. How could life have thrown this at us?
“If we break up, this will end very badly for me”
I thought you meant you’d lose your only confidante. I don’t think either of us thought it would end like it did. The ultimate tragedy.
I love you, SM x