“I still want to be your patron Will, and support your work no matter where I am in the world,” he said, kissing the fingers of my right hand, my writing hand.
I smiled bitterly and shook my head. “No, this is a journey I have to make on my own from now on.” I kissed his neck in return.
“So you will never write for me again?” he breathed with sorrow while I opened the door to leave.
“Everything I will write will be for you, Henry.” I pressed my lips on his, trying to create a stamp of our last kiss and engrave it onto my mouth for eternity.
Before he could continue the kiss, I turned and stepped out, tears rolling down my face.
My chest weighed so heavily with pain that I was not afraid of hell anymore. Whatever torture the devil gave me couldn’t be worse than this. I forced myself to take a step, then another, and another, each taking me farther away from the love of my life.
I didn’t back because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to give him up.