Have you ever “borrowed” something you shouldn’t have? How did it make you feel?

You make this treasure a significant part of your life. But should it be? Or is it better to do the right thing and . . .

  

Return All Things You Borrow

You sat there stunned, as tears rolled down your face. I trembled because I knew I had hurt you in an unimaginable way. Yet I believed in my heart this had to be done. I could no longer convince myself having you in my life was right.

I made the decision to walk out of your life a year ago, but could not muster up the courage to do so. I understood the way you had become a part of my world had been wrong. I had borrowed “a gift” that was not meant to be mine—one that needed to be returned.

That one unbelievable night, when you came into my life, tested all my principles. With blond hair flowing about your face, your eyes sparkled with energy that ignited the passion within me. The restaurant’s lighting highlighted your beauty and elegance.

Seated alone at a table set for two, you triggered emotions within me I had not felt before. You stared at the entrance to the plush bistro, as if waiting for your prince to emerge through the doors.

I wished I could be the one whose presence you awaited and fantasized it might happen. The waiter presented my meal. I picked up my utensils and began to eat a salmon filet, cooked to perfection, surrounded by roasted vegetables and rice pilaf.

The exquisite cuisine made my mouth water, but could not distract me from my preoccupation with the wonder of you. Not wanting to make my fascination with you obvious, I turned my head ever so slightly to sneak a peek.

But not being as discreet as I had hoped, our eyes met. The glow in yours seemed to have disappeared. They were misted over. I wanted to reach out to you, to give you a shoulder to lean on. However, it was not my right to do so.

Then you wiped the tears from your eyes and rose from the table. You stood in a way that made me quiver with excitement. I wished you would come to me. I wanted to rush to you, but my body froze in place.

You turned toward the door. I began to panic. I feared you would walk out of my life. I did not want this to happen before I had a chance to tell you how I felt. As I began to sink into despair, you reversed direction and headed my way.

I could not take my eyes off you. Without asking, you pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. You placed your left hand atop your right, displaying an extravagant, diamond wedding ring. Oh, my god, you’re married, I thought.

Two years ago, I took something that did not belong to me. I should just have listened to your story, as you sat before me, and not held your hand. But I could not help myself. And I needed more, so I embraced your body and stole your heart.

For the first year of our relationship, I felt like royalty—a prince with his ravishing princess. Nothing could have been better. The intense romance and intimacy captivated me in ways I had never known before.

But I knew you still had a husband and had not spoken about leaving him. After that first year, my buried principals began to surface. I had been wrong. This was never meant to be. However, I could not bring myself to leave you.

I anguished over staying and began to have trouble enjoying someone else’s cherished treasure. I had to leave you. Night after night, I lay awake trying to figure out how to do what was right. And then . . .

A year later, I broke your heart. As rain poured down upon the hotel roof, tears flowed from your eyes. We embraced one last time, as I whispered, “All things borrowed should be returned.” I let you go and walked out of the room and your life.

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.