Do you love me?

January 15, 2015. In the evening, we went for a walk through Hanover. It was the first day of the new year that I saw Jana. She had to write applications to universities, so we couldn't see each other beforehand.

“Jana, do you remember the note above my desk?” I asked her. “I think I can take it down now.”

She remained silent.

“You are my soulmate, Jana. The love of my life,” I continued, hoping she would say the same. But she continued to stay silent.

Then, she finally responded.

“I’m not ready yet.”

She explained to me that she wouldn’t be here for much longer. She would have to move because of her studies. The distance didn’t matter to me. All I wanted to hear in that moment was that she loved me too and that we would stay together forever. But she said nothing.

At the end of the walk, we waited at the station entrance for the train home. I was disappointed and impatient, so I confronted her with a decision. I demanded a clear answer from her: YES or NO to our relationship.

I still remember her look - as if she wanted to ask me in sadness why I had asked that. A lump formed in my throat because I already had a sense of what answer I would receive. We looked at each other in silence for a few minutes until she said no.

Without saying goodbye to her and without looking back, I walked quickly to the platform. The train was already there. I sat in the only free seat on a bench for four and looked out the window with clenched teeth and a raised head. The first raindrops hit the window and slid down. The lump in my throat didn’t go away when I tried to swallow. With my arm leaning against the window, I tried to hide my eyes, which were already filled with tears, from others. I couldn’t lower my head, otherwise gravity would have brought the tears falling from the corners of my eyes. When the train finally started, I gave in to gravity, lowered my head, and let the tears drop onto my pants.

The next day, I already regretted my impatient, childish overreaction. As I got off the train and went down the stairs, I had no hope of seeing Jana below. But I knew she had to be somewhere here because she went to work at the same time as I went to university. I looked around everywhere and actually spotted her in a crowd a bit further at the entrance of the main station. I followed her and adjusted my pace to hers so as not to lose sight of her. I didn't want to believe that it was all over because of yesterday's triviality. I didn't want to give up, which is why I eventually decided to catch up with her and speak to her:

“Jana, how are you?”

“Hi. Not so good...”

We walked a few steps.

“I'm sorry I'm not very talkative today,” she said.

“It's okay, Jana! You don't have to talk to me; say if you have something to say.”

I followed her to the tram stop, where we waited for a while. Jana stood facing away from me, and we didn't speak a word to each other.

“I'm sorry I ran away yesterday,” I finally burst out as I saw the tram Jana wanted to take.

She didn't reply and just looked around. As the tram was almost coming to a stop, I decided to hug Jana. But she stopped me.

“I hate people,” she said tearfully, then she ran into the tram.

Full of pain, I watched the tram drive away. With my head bowed, I made my way to the lecture.

After the first two lectures, instead of going to the cafeteria, I sat in the library, away from all people, and watched the pigeons on the roof. My thoughts revolved around Jana:

“I don't want to make her sad or make her life difficult. But I also don't want to lose her. What have I done? I have to keep fighting.”

On the way home, I wrote her an email asking her what was on her mind. In the following days, I waited hopefully for a response from her.