The last phone call

 It was the last phone call.

The phone was heavy in my hand.

"Bye," she said. A few seconds of silence, then that drawn-out, heartbreaking "Byeeee."It felt final.

My heart was heavy,  my throat was tight, and my eyes were filled with tears. I could only whisper, "Byee," in return. 

My heart was in chaos, screaming: Run after her! Stop her! Beg her to stay! Tell her you can't live without her! One more try, and maybe you could win her back!

I wanted to surrender, to drop my pride and do anything—get on my knees, join my hands—to make her mine again.

But a cold voice cut through the noise. It was my mind, bringing the inevitable truth: "Stop. Don't waste your effort. You know the truth now. Someone has cursed you. You are not meant to succeed in love. You will always, always lose."

I looked at my weeping reflection and saw the painful pattern of my life. The curse was real. This was my fate.

So, I didn't beg. I didn't argue. I didn't fight. I swallowed the final goodbye and quietly accepted that a broken heart was the only love I was allowed to keep. I let her go, not because I stopped loving her, but because I finally believed I was destined to lose her.