Despite hours of convincing himself that it was the absolute wrong, wrong, wrong thing to do, Jim decides to show up at her wedding anyway.

He doesn’t know if he is going only to show her what she’s missing, what she’s giving up on. Or if it’s because he wants to see if she is actually going to go through with it. Or if it’s because he wouldn’t be able to bear the pain of not going because when everything else is ignored, she is still his best friend and it does not matter if he will suffer throughout each exchange of words because the bottom line is that he needs to be there for her.

He realizes, however, after slicing a piece of his skin while shaving beforehand, that the ruby red droplet that slips down his cheek reminds him of the deep craze that constantly hovered between them and that he would be betraying himself if he did not ignore it.

He must go to her wedding. It is no longer a matter of “can but can’t,” “would but won’t,” or “should but shorn’t.” He must go.

He looks at himself in the mirror before he leaves, just to make sure his suit is in place. The very idea that he is going to her wedding – the wedding he was convinced he would never see – gives him goosebumps, but not the kind he gets when he’s cold or after he’s seen a poignant movie. No, they are the kind that burn, for they are silent reminders that everything about this day is wrong. After a few moments, he dares himself to look himself in the eyes and he knows that this is the last time he can feel like this.

When he gets to the church, he sees a slew of family members, mostly Pam’s (he can tell this because her mother is surrounded by what seems like hundreds of bright-eyed women, all complimenting the beautiful church and how excited they are to see their darling little Pam). I’ve made it this far, he reminds himself. There would be no point in turning back. You just can’t do that to her or yourself.

“Jim?” the familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Really? Is this necessary? He wonders.

“Hey Dwight,” he responds, turning around.

“What brings you back to the states? Did your aunt kick the bucket earlier than expected?” Dwight smirks. Jim sighs but decides to play along; maybe he can have some fun.

“Actually, I got a call on the plane that she died. God bless her soul!” Jim looks toward the sky and pretends to mutter a prayer.

“Phone usage is prohibited on airplanes,” states Dwight.

“Well, they told me I was the MVP – Most Valuable Passenger – and that I could use my cell phone whenever I wanted.”

“Okay, sure Jim. Tell me this then: how did you book a flight so quickly back here? It usually takes several hours to buy tickets for a return flight.”

“I used the parachute to exit. A boat retrieved me in the Pacific and brought me back to the tri-state area.”

“A parachute? There are no parachutes allowed on large aircraft!”

“Jimbo!” Michael charges over to Jim and Dwight.

“I was just questioning Jim about his suspicious flight to Australia. Michael, I think you are going to have to report to HR that Jim here didn’t actually go–” Dwight begins, but is interrupted by Michael.

“God, you look so good!” Michael wraps his arms around Jim in a large embrace.

“Michael, I saw you two days ago.”

“Still, it is so good to see you!”

Dwight does not look pleased.

“Does Pamela have any hot sisters or cousins or friends or any type of lady whom may be interested in mwah?” Michael asks.

“Not that I know of.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed! After a couple glasses of wine at the reception, I’m sure any little lady will want me.”

“You said that at the Dundie Awards ceremony at Chili’s but none of the waitresses were interested,” says Dwight.

“Dwight! Just, go away! Go talk to another beet farmer or Toby or some other loser!” Michael orders, turning his attention back to Jim. Dwight stalks off.

“I’m going to go inside,” says Jim dryly.

The cliché wedding music is bouncing around his head when he enters the church and he considers going back. It wouldn’t matter, he tells himself, because he wouldn’t ever see her again. He’d make sure to move far away, just get the hell away from this place, from any memories he has of her, from anything that reminds him of his former self and what he wanted the most.

The best part about all of this is how she wasn’t expecting him to be there. He was supposed to be on a vacation – one that he planned purposely, no matter how much it hurt her. His greatest hope about this whole thing is how, when she sees him, she will understand what it took for him to bring himself to the occasion and how, for a moment, she will feel a twinge of regret.

He’s been contemplating the idea of being the objector when the priest asks the tear-eyed audience the infamous question. He has viewed the scene in numerous movies, and the sky never falls when they do it.

He pictures himself, rising from his seat and shouting a steady no when the question is asked. He sees her, throwing down her fistful of cherry roses and tugging off her veil and dashing toward his wide arms. There would be a long embrace followed by a gasp by the audience. Roy will stomp off and Jim and Pam would kiss like they were meant to. Then a loud applause would begin and tears would fill everyone’s eyes because that was how it was supposed to be.

“This is just so gorgeous that I don’t even know what to say,” says Kelly, abruptly interrupting Jim’s fantasy.

“Yeah,” he responds halfheartedly. He fiddles with his thin black tie, his mind spinning circles on the idea that today is the day.

“I seriously think that Pam and Roy must have spent as much as Jennifer Aniston did on her wedding with Brad Pitt but I don’t think Pam and Roy will ever break up.”

Jim wants to cry.

He wants to cry like an April shower – a warm, misty rain that dusts daisies and cools steaming streets. He wants cry like he is at the funeral of a dear friend because he knows a part of him will wither as soon as the vows are exchanged. He wants to cry because crying is the only thing that begins to match how he feels.

He continues to show a lack of interest and Kelly, for once, takes the hint. She mutters something, and leaves to reattach herself to Ryan’s arm.

He finds himself alone, sitting in the sixth pew on the left of the church, surrounded by smiling faces of friends, family, and co-workers who are anxiously awaiting Pam and Roy’s first kiss as husband and wife and the delicious shrimp cocktails at the reception.

“Hi Jim,” says Phyllis. Jim smiles at her.

“How are you?” she asks.

“I’m fine. And you?”

“You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have to come. I understand what this must be like for you.”

He looks at her, almost embarrassed. Is it that obvious?

“Of course I’d come,” he says, with feigned excitement and a smile that burns his lips. “She’s my best friend.”

“Being her best friend doesn’t mean that you should have to put yourself through this,”

“Phyllis,” Jim manages to breathe. His hands are shaking and he swears he will start to cry if she says another word about their relationship.

For his sake, Phyllis turns and returns to Angela, Meredith and Oscar, who have formed a small circle in the corner of the church. But before she does, she gives him a look of understanding – a painful one, at that – because she sees past his mask of I’m totally okay, this wedding is so nice and acknowledges the fact that he’s not the only one who thinks that there is something wrong about this occasion.

He inhales, his lungs feeling fragile, and glances around the church. Delicate pink roses are tied to each pew with white lace. Petals line the isle toward the altar that is coated in white satin drapery. The late morning sun is creeping through the tall, stained glass windows and reflects off of the crowd’s hopeful smiles and wide eyes. The entire scene is gorgeous. All the years of waiting paid off¸ he thinks, remembering how Pam would occasionally organize parts of her wedding during work. Those were the longest days for him.

He feels nauseas, dreading the idea that Pam will be married in a matter of minutes. At least he looks his best.

“You got a girlfriend?” asks Meredith, who appears next to him suddenly. She inches closer to him. He smiles politely, and responds with the obvious answer: no.

Meredith shrugs and walks away, back to the Dunder Mifflin crowd, which has now expanded to include Michael, Dwight, Kevin, Stanley, and surprisingly, Creed, who is known to mooch off the free bar at wedding receptions and get characteristically drunk.

Suddenly, the realization that he is minutes away from losing her completely hits him like a slap in the face, or worse, like her words I can’t when he risked everything to just tell her on that fateful casino night. He will finally be separated from her on a level of permanency – he can no longer fuel the blazing hope that she could change her mind. He will not be able to look at her the same way. He will not be able to talk with her the same way. He will not be able to be himself with her in the same way. She will be bound by a thin, golden ring and a deep promise to the most sacred institution to another man. His chances are shattered into pieces as slim as the one hundred and fifty nine reasons he’s come up with about why he should leave her wedding.

The worst part is how he will not listen to any of his reasons. Just like how he stopped taking chances.

His inhalation is sharp as the large, oak crested doors creek open and the organ’s cavernous tone engulfs him. At first he can’t bear to look at her – he can’t imagine the ache that would follow. Then he just can’t. He already knows she will embody the most beautiful sight in the world.

But when he sees her, with her father at her side, he stops breathing. His eyes fill with tears. His cheeks flush white. His hands grow warm. His heart skips a beat and his existence is on the verge of collapsing.

Her auburn locks are loose on her shoulders as a delicate, crystal tiara and veil rest upon them. He is used to seeing her hair pulled back, limited by a barrette, but under the sheer veil her curls are full and defined, dancing off her shoulder.

Every nerve ending on his body is buzzing as her eyes meet his. His eyes are wide, his lips parted, his brows furrowed. Her porcelain skin and ruby lips purse when her eyes meet his and suddenly he has an urge to tell her everything. He wants to explain how much her smile and kind welcoming meant to him on his first day at Dunder Mifflin. He wants to explain that her laugh on any given Friday afternoon was the only thing that kept him from giving up. He wants to explain that his actions at the casino party weren’t a result of alcohol but of his need to know and feel. He wants to explain that he regrets all he has done in his life up until this moment because everything he is equals nothing because of the disappointment he feels today.

She looks away, just as the organ bellows a long, bottomless note and he feels empty, as if her glance stole any sliver of soul he had left.

It has been said that the way a groom looks at his bride as she walks down the isle is one of the purest things in the world. But Jim looks at Roy and is almost insulted in the way that Roy’s lackluster gaze could not even compare to the storm inside of Jim’s veins.

Her dress is gorgeous – absolutely stunning – as she slowly walks past him, closer to the inevitability of their relationship’s end. It is obvious that she had spent a fortune on it. Vera Wang, he guesses, but only because he doesn’t know of any other wedding gown designer. The white material shimmers as it glides across the floor. It is sleeveless – he has never seen that much of her skin.

Suddenly, Roy and Pam are at the altar together – Pam has happiness written across her lips and Roy has an expression of let’s just get this over with. Jim stares at them, together, and wonders if he could have changed her mind.

Their ending was real this time. Not a dreamt-up, unwritten ending that he thought they could have. Not a false daydream he wove into something bigger. This – this was the ending; a perfect blend of anguish, incongruity, and a smattering of pain to make it worth it.

He loses her and a part of himself as words are exchanged between the priest, Pam and Roy. But he keeps reminding himself that she was worth it.

He gazes at her perpetually as she stands at the altar, her hands in Roy’s, and begs himself not to cry. He’s afraid Michael is going to start poking at him because he’s remained motionless and emotionless for the entirety of the ceremony. He wishes he could sit alone, sans Michael, who plopped next to him before the ceremony began (“Jimbo, my best buddy. Mind if I pop a squat?”). But it’s not the fact that Michael is sitting next to him – it doesn’t matter who. He sees her wedding as a personal event and one of utmost poignancy. It marks the end of an important part of his life and he’d rather share it with no one.

And then, without warning, their ending begins.

“I, Pamela Morgan, take you, Roy, to by my lawfully wedded husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward,” vows Pam, her voice just over a whisper.

He doesn’t know whether to run away or scream or cry or all three. He could be those things. He has been a constant friend, a faithful partner, and was her love from this day and before. He was everything she wanted and it hurt him to know that his relationship with Pam was just another naïve, nonsensical crush when he had all the hope in the world that it wasn’t.

“I, Roy, take you, Pamela Morgan, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together,” says Roy, without cherishing each word like Pam did.

Jim and Pam faced countless obstacles together, especially considering the fact that any day with Michael and Dwight was one. Throughout them all, he remained her partner in crime; he cherished her, respected her, and laughed with her until each day’s end. And unbeknownst to Pam, he loved her more each day than he did the day before.

Rings are exchanged and the dreaded I do’s commence as well as their first kiss (which he swears was not nearly as romantic and passionate and flawless as the one they shared in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot) and with each breath, he feels like collapsing. His insides bubble with his last surge of passion for the woman of his dreams and he finally allows defeat to wash over him. The regret throughout him is irrevocable yet expected.

As Pam and Roy turn from the altar and proceed down the isle, surrounded by smiling faces and flowing tears from their friends and loved ones, he realizes that he has never been afraid of happy endings. He’s just been afraid that his wouldn’t work out the way he had planned. He always expected to have some sort of happy ending, complete with a smile and a blissful feeling. He knew he would have one, one way or another. But today, as Pam’s eyes meet his for the last time as she walks toward her future with Roy, he realizes that he is afraid; Pam was the only ending his life could possibly have that would make his existence worthwhile.

He’s always seen the world like everyone else: in terms of what he would like to see happen, not what actually does.

So when his GPS demands that he should take a right turn at the next corner, he is beginning to think that going to her wedding was enough. The need to “show her what she’s missing” (or what he’s missing) has ebbed. But the new need to prove that he is strong enough to do this for his best friend has emerged and is making him warm and wordless.

He sees this event as a way to sever their relationship completely. But somewhere, deep within him, he knows that is not what will happen.

A large, white building appears in front of him, the setting sun an elegant backdrop for its rolling hills, white pillars and evergreens. The reception hall is groomed in white lights that look like small, fallen stars.

I don’t have to go.

He parks his car across the street and gazes at the building. He wonders if his own wedding reception will be held at such a dazzling place or if he will even have a wedding. It seems unlikely at this point.

The deed has been done: Pam and Roy are married. It’s over. Why not celebrate a new beginning with a few drinks and friends?

He suddenly feels like shouting and crying and running and just leaving because he knows has to face her again.

I’m doing this for her. My best friend.

The idea that she is only his best friend after three years of obvious more-than-that actions burns a hole in his self-esteem.

He tries to be honest with himself, Just a few more hours and you can forget about everything. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore because she’s with him now.

He leaves his car, shoves his keys in his suit pants and meanders up the hill toward the reception hall, 'no' panging around his mind.

He enters, surrounded by bright eyed family members and friends, and makes his way for the bar, knowing that the night is going to feel much, much longer. His eyes scan the room for any trace of her and he catches a glimpse of her smile, before she is whisked into a hug, a new conversation.

He considers saying hello. Maybe even a ‘congratulations.’

I shouldn’t. She would know I didn’t mean it.

After a while, he begins to think that he is just being melodramatic.

He’s realizing, as he sits alone at the Dunder Mifflin table at their reception (which he never thought he’d be at, even in a nightmare), that maybe none of this should mean this much. For the past three years of his life, each thought, movement, and emotion was built around the idea that he could change her mind. Each moment was an immense struggle and day to day, he wondered how he had made it that far and if he would see the next day’s sunset. He let the false idea that he could change Pam Beesly to Pam Halpert strangle his dreams. He allowed the notion that she might like me back enter his tone of voice when he spoke with her. He welcomed an indescribable emotion of joy coupled with inevitable defeat whenever he thought of her and he embraced it because he did not realize the reality of its result. But the worst part is how he let it take him.

As he takes large swigs of his vodka and tonic, he tries to think of her wedding as a way to gain closure – a way to end everything they were.

“You look lonesome,” comments Dwight as he sits next to him. Apparently, Pam must have thought it would be funny to place Jim and Dwight next to each in the seating arrangements. Or maybe it was to subconsciously seek revenge for not trying harder. He’ll never know. He’s surprised she even included him in the seating arrangements, especially since he was not supposed to be there in the first place.

“I could say the same to you, considering the fact that you don’t have a date, either,” replies Jim, taking a gulp of his drink, its condensation seeping through his fingers; cold, like the shoulder Pam has been giving him.

“Well, Jim. I could very well have a date but she cancelled on me last minute. She had some nonsensical family event to attend. She is significantly older than I am, anyway.” Jim wonders why Dwight is bothering to talk to him.

“How old?”

“Sixty-four.”

“Are you serious?”

“I have no romantic intentions. She’s a friend of a friend who was supposed to be paying me for taking her out. Apparently she is some sort of a lunatic who feeds off of large social gatherings to which she has no relation to.”

Jim stares at him. What is there to say? This is Dwight, he thinks.

“Back to the original question: why don’t you have a date?” asks Dwight as he straightens his tie, which, surprisingly, is not mustard yellow.

“I just didn’t feel –” Jim hesitates. Is this necessary?

Dwight glances around the room, as if searching for the answer. His eyes land on her.

“It’s Pam, isn’t it?” It sounds more like a statement.

Jim nods, slowly, unwillingly. He feels like there is no reason to continue to put himself through this – facing the truth and learning to deal with it. He doesn’t want to learn because it would take too much time and too many memories would resurface and he wouldn’t be able to let go of her naturally. He wants to leave behind every laugh they shared, every glance they sneaked, and all likenesses between them because he is sick of fighting for those things and knowing he will lose.

“It used to be,” Jim whispers as his lips touch his glass.

“You know, my Great-Aunt Adelheid cheated on my Great-Uncle Benedict for eighteen years and she got away with it completely. Couldn’t trace any guilt on her face.”
“I would never–”

“The point is, this,” Dwight gestures to him and then to Pam, “isn’t over.”

Dwight stands, nods, and walks away. Jim is baffled.

Goosebumps jump across his arms as he glances at her curls, full and bouncing on her shoulder as she laughs with old-time friends.

She looks so beautiful when she’s happy. I will miss that.

He’s given so much of himself that there seems to be nothing left. He can barely hold a steady conversation with his friends, let alone his own mother. Most of the time he has no appetite and falls asleep at six-thirty after daring himself with the television to stay awake. Most of the time he wants to fall asleep so he doesn’t spend the night thinking of the obvious. But he doesn’t have any regrets, even as he sits in the same room as his best friend, who is falling into her mold as a newlywed.

At least I made it this far. He could almost laugh.

“Hi Jim,” says Kevin, who sits across the table from him, a shrimp cocktail and a small plate of hors d'oeuvres.

“Hey Kev.”

“You’re not eating?”

“Not really hungry right now.”

“This shrimp is delicious.”

“I’m sure it is.”

There is a long pause as Kevin munches on cheese and crackers.

“Pam looks hot. But I shouldn’t say that. She’s a married woman,” Kevin snickers.

There is another pause as he looks at Kevin. There is only a small trace of emotional attachment in his eyes. He’s managed to pretend like he doesn’t notice but there is still dimness left in his iris’s that gives his rue away.

Kevin stops chewing and looks at him. “I’m sorry, man.”

He stands and leaves like Dwight did, and as Phyllis did from the ceremony, each of them offering a different type of condolence, but each aftermath the same: the silent understanding that he is not mistaken in thinking that this ceremony is wrong.

He is surprised that he hasn’t heard an outburst coming from Michael yet, but maybe Michael still needs a few more drinks. Then he’ll be on the tables, Jim thinks.

He sighs, swigs his newly acquired beer, thanks to the table-to-table service, and wishes she didn’t mean this much to him. And though he can’t stand the idea of being her best friend now that she is married, he does not want to end what they have, either.

It took her wedding, the most dreaded event of his young life, to realize that their ending wasn’t only his fault.

He looks at her for the first time that night and she catches his glance from across the room and he can swear that she is thinking the same thing, too.

Toasts have been made, words have been spoken. He’s been delirious through it all.

He’s not drunk, nor plans to be; he does not want to make a fool of himself.

He just doesn’t understand why she hasn’t said anything to him, or why she hasn’t even looked his way. But then he realizes that he hasn’t said anything either and has been dodging any form of communication.

He doesn’t understand any of this, really. He just wants to go home and sleep his life away. He cannot stand the thought of waking up to the memory of her wedding.

As he continues to sit alone, nursing his beer, he realizes that it’s the thought of having her that keeps him alive. It’s what helps him face the days that are all the same: hours watching her not-watching him, and dinner alone each night. Sometimes, he’s afraid that if his dream is realized, he will have no reason to go on living.

Michael comes over, an apple martini in his hand, his tie loosened. He has a large smile across his face: he looks like he’s accomplished something vast.

“You’ll never guess what I just did,” Michael slurs. Too many drinks, thinks Jim. Better him than me.

“What did you do, Michael?”

“I trashed the wedding.” Michael bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Michael, I’m going to have to say that you’re as good as Vince Vaughn from the Wedding Crashers,” Jim laughs lightly, knowing Michael is known to exaggerate, and apparently, even more so when he’s drunk. Jim glances around the room and everything is neatly in its place: white flowers top each table, white satin drapery dangles from the dim lights, light music is playing the background, combined with the hum of content voices. The scene is impeccable.

“Can I please be Owen Wilson? I wanna be blonde.”

Michael’s eyes roll back into his head and he tips forward. Jim catches him, leans him back in his seat, and laughs silently. At least he’s not on the tables.

Jim continues to drink his beer, slowly, trying to have too much, especially because he hasn’t eaten anything. He scans the room for a sign of her, any sign at all, and that’s when it happens.

Their eyes meet.

Their eyes meet and it is like the past and future become unimportant. There is only that moment and the incredible certainty that everything in their worlds has been tied together, just so they could understand what they see in each other’s eyes.

I need to talk to her, he thinks, suddenly overcome by an urge to confront her.

He stands and walks across the dance floor; for a moment he wonders how she would feel in his arms if they danced together, their shoes clacking against the hardwood surface in unison.

He pushes past the thought and continues to walk towards her, fortitude in his eyes. I’m going to do this, he thinks, confidently.

He remembers this feeling: it resembles the emotions he had felt minutes before meeting Pam in the parking lot after the casino party. He had convinced himself that tonight was the night and he had a surge of bravery running through his veins but when his eyes meet hers under the moonlight, he felt like a little boy telling his secret crush his true feelings.

He approaches her, and she turns to face him. Her friends, who were talking with her moments before, eye them suspiciously and walk away.

“Jim–” she begins.

“Can we talk outside?”

She nods, her lips pursed.

They reach the foyer, his hands in his pockets and her fingers fiddling with one another. They are both nervous because they know what will happen.

I have to do this, he thinks.

This is my wedding – he can’t ruin it no matter what he says¸ she thinks.

He reaches for her hands, her fragile, pale hands. He joins them with his and rubs his thumbs across the back of them.

They are sharing a space so close that he can count the freckles on her flawless face.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers. Her eyes are wide.

“Thank you,” she cannot manage to say anything more.

He pauses. How do I say all of this?

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear…” he begins.

“Please don’t say that–”

“…but you have to know. For the last time,” he finishes.

She is quiet.

“I’m in love with you,” he smiles weakly. His insides are breaking.

She is quiet.

“Coming here today was so hard. You, married? I don’t like to think about it.”

She is quiet.

“But I made myself come because our friendship means more to me than anything else, even if it means losing you. I don’t want us to regret anything – you don’t deserve that.”

She is quiet.

“Pam, we are both guilty of the same things,” he says slowly, looking at their hands, together. He had forgotten what her skin felt like against his.

“Stop trying to fix things,” she says it coolly, with little emotion. Her eyes do not meet his – she is staring somewhere behind him, over his shoulder.

Something inside of him flickers – it only takes an instant for him to realize that he’s been too complacent, too allowing. He’s sick of waiting for things to change between them instead of making them change. He’s annoyed with how he has not tried hard enough when he knows he can. He’s done with feeling like he could have done more.

“At least I’ve tried! I’ve tried, Pam!”

“This is my wedding, Jim! Everything was going fine and now you have to prove yourself?” her calm tone is slipping and anger is pushing through. She yanks her hands from his in one swift motion and her fingers curl into fists at her side.

“Everything is fine? Did you seriously say that? Things aren't ‘fine’ Pam, and you of all people should know that.”

“You have no right to say that! You don’t know anything about my relationship with Roy!” Her voice is on the verge of a shout.

“I know enough to say that today was a mistake,” the last word is harsh as it slips past his clenched jaw.

Immediately, her eyes sting with tears and his follow. He thinks, for a moment, that he has crossed the line.

“How dare you.”

There is a short pause. He resorts to where their relationship spun out of proportions.

“You kissed me back, Pam,” he snarls, stepping back, their eyes locked. “You just have to remember that. You. Kissed. Me. Back.”

Suddenly, the idea that there will never be “another chance” washes over him like a smothering flame. He stands there, staring blankly into her darkened eyes, wishing he had died and that everything would end forever at that moment.

He is devastated.

He has said words he could not have imagined saying.

And she has said words he had never thought he would hear.

He always thought of having her as something he could call reachable when he knew more than the sky is blue that she is everything but that. And yet here he is on her wedding day, standing with her in secret behind tall, white pearl donned doors, and he doesn’t see her as reachable anymore.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” she whispers, her fingers burning as they grasp the golden loop newly adorned on her finger.

There is a shriek of emptiness within him that rumbles throughout him.

“I don’t think I can, either.”

“What happened to us, Jim?”

“What do you mean?” The anger has not dwindled yet.

She is silent, fishing for words. Two tears slip down her rose-dusted cheeks, but her mascara has not begun to run yet.

“We were such good friends. Wasn’t enough for you?”

He pauses. The truth can hurt.

“No,” he whispers, looking down. “No, it wasn’t. And I’m sorry for that.”

“So am I.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows he’s ruined the rest of her night, let alone the days to come. And excruciatingly, he realizes that he loves her enough to let go. He just wishes it were that easy.

“I promised myself more than this, but sometimes people change,” she says quietly. She begins to reclaim her calmness. “Things happen and we move on. Thank you for trying and for being honest,” tears flush her green irises as she finishes, “But I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

Before he turns to leave, because he’s realized that he really should, this time, for good, he takes one more chance.

“Were you honest all these years?”

“Maybe,” she pauses. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me the truth.”

She looks at him, her eyes pleading as they silently beg for a way out of this.

“No,” she whispers, the word almost incoherent. “No, Jim. I haven’t been. But it’s too late now.” She lifts up her left hand, the diamond glimmering under the florescent lights above them.

At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and his passion for her surged within him. When he looked into her light eyes and saw that her lips were poised between a cry and silence, he learned the most important part of their relationship. It required no explanation, just as the world needs none as it travels though endless time. What he felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing.

He was more certain of it than anything in the world.

“How can you say that?”

“What do you mean how can I say that? I’m married, Jim. Married!”

“It’s just not fair! We had years to avoid this! You’ve had over a decade to realize that he isn’t right for you!”

“You really have to stop with this. I. Love. Roy.” Each syllable stung.

“Well guess what, Pam. If it hasn’t been obvious, I. Love. You.”

He had always been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never fallen in love to this degree. Maybe those people weren’t denied and accepted, only to be denied again. Those people weren’t like him and Pam. They didn’t know what it was like to ache for something better.

His eyes are hot with tears as the back of his throat stings. He doesn’t regret anything anymore.

“I just wish you felt the same way,” he whispers, his eyes on the floor.

“I did,” he almost asks her to repeat herself because her words are as faint as a sigh, “but there isn’t anything we can do now, Jim. This has to end.”

“I’ve realized that. I’m sorry, Bees–” he stops midway through her name. He can feel his lungs constricting and his heart beat slows.

There is a sharp intake of breath as folds her fingers together and looks at the ground, her pose similar to when he told her these truths the time before. Except when that occurred, she wasn’t married. She still had a choice.

“Anderson.” The word is final.

He does not know how the next part of their lives will turn out, or if it will work at all, but at least he knows the truth about the past three years of his life. And, with that, he can move on, with or without her, knowing that he tried his best.

He always knew he loved her. And now he knows she has felt the same.

They loved each other enough to let go.

They loved each other enough to realize that there is an end for everything.