It’s easy to say you would die for the sake of love. Death is a paltry price to pay for the assurance your beloved is safe.
His hands are sure as he opens the kitchen drawer and selects the sharpest blade.
And it’s easy to say you would kill for the sake of love. Any other’s life is meaningless compared to the one you adore.
His steps are even as he crosses into the living room and approaches his unmoving companion.
But if you are asked to stand aside and do nothing for the sake of love?
His heart is calm as he steadies Tanim with one arm and raises the other, pressing the blade against the taut rope which binds the man to the rafter above.
If you are asked to stay your hand and willingly watch the one you love destroy themselves? Could you let them make that decision, knowing their misery may end but you will never be whole again?
His body is steady as Tanim’s limp weight collapses onto it, and he bears his lover to the floor with utmost care.
Dying for love is no great martyrdom; it’s easy to be the one doing the leaving. But choosing to set your love free and remain behind despite the loss, despite knowing you will wake each morning alone, forever alone, is another ordeal entirely. Yet if that is the sacrifice love demands, could you deny its supplication?