"As the youngest of four children, I always had to assert myself. My mother worked on the estate every day, even when she was already too weak for it." Like her, I wanted to be strong and fight for everything important to me, probably not just for myself but for my family too. I realize that step by step.
But there's something more that becomes clear to me now. Like my mother, I never gave up. I wanted to stand up for everything that mattered to me, and I didn't want anyone to have to help me with it.
"I thought I knew the way. And I thought if I just fought hard enough for my goals, they would come true."
Yes, that's it.
I look at Sky sadly. I hurt her so much, yet she's now gently stroking my arm and nodding at me. "And then?"
"This fighting spirit made me blind to everything else. Blind to the fact that mistakes are inevitable. Blind to the fact that I can allow others to be there for me. Blind to the fact that I can trustothers. But above all, blind to the fact that every person makes their own decisions."
My God, why couldn't I see this before?
I was convinced that sharing my problems with Maxime was selfish.
But the opposite is true. Leaving like I did was pure selfishness.
My heart pounds hard against my chest. "I made a terrible mistake with Maxime," I say to Sky, whose eyes reflect compassion.
"You can't undo mistakes." She shrugs. "And I don't think you should."
"No, I have to." I hastily shake my head. "I never stopped loving him. I can't just move on now and forget about him," I add softly, my heart almost breaking at the thought of what I've done to him and the consequences it's had on him to this day. "I destroyed his life."
Instead of replying, she presses her lips together. She's still friends with Maxime, so I know what her silence means.
"Because I didn't trust him and desperately wanted to keep control," I continue dejectedly. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore."
Sky takes a deep breath. "Both of you think you've destroyed his life," she says thoughtfully. "But I'm not so sure. How could that be? His life isn't over yet."
"What do you mean?" A glimmer of hope rises within me.
"Well, he's only in his early thirties," she answers. "So he still has plenty of time to live a happy life." She makes it sound so simple. "And so do you."
Is it really that simple?
"You mean..." I tap my chin thoughtfully.
"Everyone goes through tough times. And often, it's not even our fault," she says earnestly. "But that doesn't mean it has to stay that way forever."
That makes sense.
I've always wanted to believe that every storm will end one day. But what if I've misinterpreted it so far?
As if by magic, the loose thoughts in my head come together to form a picture.
What if some storms can only be defeated by letting go and trusting that sunshine will follow the rain?
Three times now, I thought I had to protect Maxime from the truth. When I asked him to dance with someone else. When I left him. And yesterday, when I lied to him again.
Yet the storm in my heart won't end, at least not until now. And everything in me refuses to believe that it's any different for Maxime.
What if I give him control?
Because only he can end our storm?
Yes, that's it.
He needs to know the whole truth about why I left back then and decide for himself how to handle it.
