LOVE'S ROMANTIC DEATH - NARRATIVE / SHORT STORY BY JRQC

For Martin, the simple act of getting up was a powerful force that translated into the sensation of morning freshness, as if his existence depended on it. And it was not in vain. He embodied one of those characters capable of making the mind and body flutter, a whirlwind infused with passion for everything representing beauty. When his eyes directly met yours, you felt exposed, as if an eternal flame shone in his honey-colored eyes. He seldom directed his gaze towards people while speaking, but when he did, you felt at his mercy, as if his eyes penetrated the walls of your soul and heart, leaving you exposed. However, I don't complain, as under the shelter of his aura and words, I felt the comforting warmth of that fiery gaze. His gaze intoxicated me, his words bathed me. Yes, that's Martin. That's him, the one I fell in love with.

For him, life was a feast offering delicious delicacies and pleasures which he indulged in without distinction or regret. His strength pulled me out of boredom; his zest for adventure was insatiable, and he always wanted me to partake in his appreciation for life. I rested my head on his chest while we watched the sunset or sat on the rocks by the sea while the symphony of his music played. And so, enveloped in Martin's magnetic spell, I found myself increasingly immersed in his world of passions and fascinations. Each encounter with him was like a frenetic dance between our souls, where words intertwined in a ballet of hidden meanings and knowing glances. I became his confidante, the sole recipient of his thoughts and desires. However, the price I paid for my blind infatuation was my heart.

In those days, my heart trembled at the sound of his voice, full of a low tone and cheerful spark. His presence left me bare and vulnerable. One of those afternoons, while sharing laughter, Martin invited me to visit an old friend of his whom he hadn't seen in a long time. Upon arriving at the place that night, a woman with fair skin and dark hair, slightly overweight, opened the door. Her brown eyes lit up upon seeing Martin in front of her, and she hugged him warmly, almost digging her nails into his back, then caressed his neck and head affectionately.

As I observed the scene, my lips tightened, and my hands in my pants pockets became fists. She didn't notice my discomfort and greeted me as if we had known each other for a long time, to which I responded as expected.

The drinks flowed for the three of us, but my glass didn't empty at the same pace as theirs. My mind, senses, and heart burned as I saw Martin caressing the woman's hand, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and then kissing her. I immersed myself in immense pain in the soul while struggling to contain the tears threatening to flood my eyes. In that moment, I broke into a thousand pieces. It was the first time that pain robbed me of everything I felt for him. Everything crumbled in that instant, and aware of it, I could only contemplate that scene, which pierced my soul and heart like a bleeding and irreparable wound. Her back was facing me, and I saw him bury his face in hers while he watched me. I couldn't contain my pain any longer, and I felt the warmth of my tears escaping my eyes. Martin's penetrating gaze delved into mine, making me believe that it was me he was kissing, quenching the thirst of my lips.

In a brief moment of the woman's absence, I expressed my desire to leave, but my announcement was in vain, as Martin decided that we should spend the night there.

"Don't you realize what you're doing to me? Don't you see that you're hurting me?" I said with anguish.

His gaze turned warm as he arched his eyebrows, seeking understanding from me. "I know, and I apologize, but I..... I am sorry...," his face pervaded with repentance of his actions, though I knew at that time, that he actually wanted to continue with his actions.

He tried to say something else but was abruptly interrupted by the sudden presence of the woman, who, with a look of confusion, sensed that something was amiss between him and me. I could say she sensed that there was something between us, but obviously, she didn't pay attention to it as she announced enthusiastically, as if it were a parade of caresses and sweets, that it was time to sleep.

The journey from the living room to the room, where I was supposed to have a restful sleep, felt like walking towards the gallows or the stake, where my soul and heart would be thrown into the fire to be forgotten forever. She opened the window and bid me goodnight. Martin lingered behind for a few minutes. I looked at him with intense pain, the sharpest I had felt in a long time, and in his eyes, I saw the burning of guilt and remorse. He futilely tried to kiss my lips in a "goodnight" gesture to console me perhaps, but my reflexes and the pain that engulfed me made me dodge him. As the door closed, I succumbed to my tears and the heaviness of my heart shattered into pieces. I had fallen in love, and everything had been to become a victim of the devastating pain at the loss of what I thought was true. I didn't understand why it had to be like this, why I had to experience the bitterness of being in love for the first time and witnessing everything that happened on that night.

My eyes, swollen and red, resisted closing and giving way to sleep. I heard their voices, I heard their mischievous laughter. Shortly after, there were thuds on the wall, coming from the bed in which they were, I heard moans of excitement and pleasure emanating from her mouth, moans of his, wild as they reached their climax. It was the final blow. At that moment, not only pain invaded me at the twisted and almost animalistic intensity of their moans, but it was also the moment when the love I felt for him cruelly killed me, with its cold dagger of bitterness. Yes, it killed me, he did.

Since then, I remember Martin with bitterness and nostalgia, and I have never again experienced infatuation for someone in the same way I did for him.

I loved him, I loved him with heart-rending sincerity, I loved him with my soul, with my heart, and with my tears of pain, but unfortunately, it was that very love that mercilessly killed me, with no remorse, it was simply... the romantic death of love.