Lim: A love story
It’s a story as old as time. Boy meets girl. They fall in love. Or at least, they think it’s love. Boy follows girl all over the world. Girl thinks he is the one. But after a while, the cracks begin to show. The doubts seep in. And one day, it implodes.
A pandemic occurs. Girl heads home. Boy stays. Oceans apart, he types, “Are you coming back?” To his surprise, she types back, “No.”
No explanations. Just no. So certain. So brutal. So final.
She is, herself, baffled by the boldness and brevity of her reply. Is it perhaps because while her heart has not yet fully grasped what she already knows, her mind is already ten steps ahead?
In contrast, he writes an inordinate number of paragraphs explaining why he needs to know if she is coming back. So many statements none of which contains the words that matter. And that, perhaps, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
He accepts her reply without question. And without protest.
Reality bites. But she knew his mind like the back of her hand. Sensible. Logical. Practical. It was one of the things she loved about him—his organized mind.
This story might have had a different ending if Boy had been a little less composed, a little more upset when he got her reply. But he was as calm and certain as she was.
At the precise moment when the fate of this love story hung in the balance, magic and madness hid. Only sense and sensibility showed. And perhaps, it was meant to be so.
Would she have returned if he had asked her to? We will never know. All we know is—there were no lingering good-byes for these two.
Not long after, a little birdie tells Girl, Boy has tied the knot. Taken aback, she decides to see for herself.
Girl meets Boy again. But this time, Wife is in tow. Wife is not what Girl expects her to be, though. She’s nice, beautiful and pleasant. She’s perfect. And definitely, the better fit. Girl decides Wife wins fair and square—despite the burgeoning belly that precipitates the hitch.
No bad blood. There can be none. And perhaps that is love.
Perhaps, the stars realigned. Perhaps, when the roads forked, they found they wanted to go in separate directions. Perhaps, she was not the one. Perhaps, he was not the one. After all. Perhaps, they were meant to live happily “despite what happens after”—with other people.
Was it love? Or was it just limerence? We will never know. Perhaps, it was both. Or perhaps, in the end, love dwindled and died a natural death for reasons wisely predetermined by the gods above.
It’s a story as old as time. Boy meets girl. Limerence arrives. He thinks she is the one. Her heart is finally open. Love is plausible but how awful it is to find you’re in the wrong lifetime.
So, will you come look for me in the next one?