I asked myself many baffling, troubling questions. How I could know that Haritha wants to change, how I could help her, whether she could maintain her determination past temptations, whether she could succeed, what my part in it would be, what would happen if she did succeed, and what would happen if we failed. All a fog of uncertainty around an already-clouded life full of duties not yet paid, work to be done, things to learn, challenges.
Now, things are painfully clear and simple. All of that is gone, because the first question was answered. More than that, I have learned that she was never the woman I thought she was. Not since we first met. I wonder if I'll ever meet that woman. And if I do, if I'll be worthy of her.
Clarity can hurt, but it's better to see clearly. Had I not thought, and discussed, and thought more, and found clarity, I might have been baffled by Haritha's answers last night. They veered this way and that, avoiding questions rather than answering them, or clinging to her misimpressions of my desires, particularly her idea (where she got this I cannot fathom) that I wanted to humiliate her. But clear of thought, I kept coming back again and again to that first question: does she truly want to change? Has she considered the life before her as the person she is, which will probably be similar to the life behind her, full of misfortune and suffering? Has she imagined the life before her as an honest and virtuous woman, perhaps a life with me in it, perhaps not if that's not what she wished, and decided that was the life she wanted? And though she would never say directly, her veering, and her avoidance, and the words between the words she said, made clear the answer.
She does not wish to change. I don't know what she actually wants. Maybe she wants me to change to be like her, and those in her circle; to succumb to the temptations of her warmth and beauty and affection, and set aside being myself to stay with her. Maybe she wants me to blind myself to the irreconcilable difference, and be with her anyway, while still somehow remaining who I am. Maybe she's never actually thought about it. I even wonder if somewhere, some part of her does want to change, and someday she will realize the opportunity she let pass by, and the life that followed, and be full of pain and regret.
But I hope not. Mostly I hope she finds some other way to redemption, if it can't be me. Failing that, I hope that she at least finds a way to be happy, despite her dishonesty, despite how the idea of that goes against all sense of justice. Even this ice-sharp pain in my chest doesn't make me wish her to suffer, either now or in the future. The point of that pain is that I failed to help her, not that I will likely never see her again, and certainly never hold her hand.
Do I miss her? Yes. And yet, no. What I truly miss, what this aching gap in me is shaped like, is not really her. It's the person I mistook her for, whose hand I never held, who I have never met, and may never meet.
But my life got simple, and clear, painfully clear. None of those other questions matter now. All I have to do now is take the next step. Earn coin for tolls, and learn to defend myself, so I can fulfill my duty to Rohan. Learn a trade and work hard at it, so I will have a life and a home, even if there is no family in either. Stay true to who I am. Take the next step.
