Quando pensamos na função de gestão de produtos, sempre a imaginamos sendo exercida em uma empresa cujo negócio principal é um software oferecido via internet, também conhecido por Software as a…
She huddles on the ground, not uttering a single word. But she covers her face with her hands and won’t even tilt her face in my direction. I know she’s crying, though. Sobbing, really, judging by the constant shake of her shoulders and the tremors racing through her entire body. If I step closer to her, she recoils and I hear a whimper. So, I stop.
Heat flushes through my entire body, and my muscles quiver in anticipation. Doesn’t she understand why this has happened? It could have been avoided if only she would listen…
But then her breath catches in her throat and she shrinks into a smaller ball on the floor. As though she had sensed my sudden flare of anger. And perhaps she did. She’s lived with me long enough… it must be obvious when I get mad.
I want to say something, but I can’t. Nothing I say will make a difference. I realize that I’ve crossed the line. This time, I went too far. I can’t take it back. And she won’t ever look at me the same.
Gradually, I bend my knees so I’m crouching in front of her instead of looming over her. She flinches away all the same. The pain this action pierces through my heart is worse than I had anticipated. Even knowing she’ll never forgive me, I hadn’t thought she’d be so scared of me right away. But I should have known better. This is what I get for not thinking before I act.
I stare down at my empty hands and accept they will remain that way.
“I know it doesn’t mean anything,” I say, my voice as soft as I can make it. “But I’m sorry.” I don’t fight the tremor as my chin begins to tremble.
At last, she uncovers her face, but still won’t meet my gaze. The ache begins in my chest when I see the emptiness in her eyes. And tears burn before they fall down my cheeks. No amount of sorry will change what has happened here.
She pulls herself into a standing position, arms wrapped around herself. But I stay where I am on the floor so she can look down on me. The remorse coursing through me pins me to the ground, and I shift my gaze away.
I cry as she walks away, her own sobs quiet now. She closes the door behind her and I hear her open the closet doors and begin to pack. I sink myself the rest of the way to the floor and wrap my arms around my knees. I won’t go in there and apologize more. I won’t beg her to stay. I know there isn’t any point and I’ve broken every promise I ever made.
She deserves better than this, and it is all my fault. I should have kept myself in check and kept my hands to myself. But I lost control of my impulses and fell prey to my baser desires. I took it out on the only person I’ve ever cared for and now I will lose her forever. There is no one to blame but myself. And as I accept this outcome, I let the tears fall. My face is screwed up in the pain and anguish of losing it all, and knowing it is all my fault.
The door opens behind me and she stands in the hall for a second longer. Her feet angled in my direction, but her body pointed towards the door. I wonder if she’ll say anything at all…
She walks away and the front door closes behind her.
I count to ten and crawl down the hall to the window. I make a promise to myself not to chase after her. She deserves the clean break. But I at least want to watch her leave. And say my own final goodbye.
Medium is a popular platform among authors and readers alike, offering a wide range of content on a variety of topics. As an author, if you build a strong following on Medium, you can establish your…