the final play

If you're destined to meet someone, you will, there's no denying that fact. They met at crossroads not once or twice, but thrice. Their world collided, emotions erupted, he felt rejuvenated, she felt comfortable, and the sharing and paring started. her voice reverberated in his ears the day they talked. There was a sense of completeness between them. It seemed to him that he found his missing self in her. He would answer all her questions, give his thoughts, only to find that they have been meticulously sorted out and thought of by her, before he could even think/say. She was a reflection of his self in real life. She would always hers as 'the final play'. He and his vain efforts lost to her final play. A story they pondered together before it was written; it was written flawlessly just like a craftsman crafting a masterpiece. Too good to be true, she did not think once if he was not the one he was, because he didn't either. Not even a person can trust hi/her own self; but, she did. "I am busy in some work, sorry. I will call you later.", he said. Deep down her heart, she knew he will, and he would. But still, she replied, "talk to me, 'cause I would be fine otherwise." Everything would go numb around them, She found comfort in his voice and he found in hers. Vocal texts, expressive silence, endless waits was what they experienced. What she saw in him, was what she asked for. He would say something, and she would reply, " i knew you were going to say it; I was just waiting for you to speak." And again, she would win the 'final play' of that conversation. What could possibly go wrong from this? But, did she deserve this? or did she deserve better?
One fine night and they were left devastated. He embraced the parting as if nothing ever happened. He saw her for the first time then. They promised each other; this will be the last flight of emotions that will fly. They talked as if everything was good, but, the scars were just beginning to come. Inseparable splitsville was on its way. They both were waiting to end it forever. But, who take the guard and who plays the final play. Indecisiveness was hovering over their heads. The more they wanted to close, the stronger the bond grew.
She: "Do you have the courage to hang up the call?"
He (confidently): "Yes. I have to."
She (radiantly smiling): "Why are you lying to your self?"
He: "I am not."
She (scoffs): "Ask your self."
He (sighs): "Fine. I am. But, we have to put an end to this. Let me be the bad guy."
She: " You know that you can't." (again she would win the final play)
He: "Why are you doing this to me? How about not looking at me, and I will hang up. Easy?"
"Perhaps.", she said. "But, I don't want to regret later that I did not see him for the one last time." she added with teary eyes. (she would just not let him win, would she?)
Every single time he tried to push the finger, she would shake her head in disbelief.
One last time, and he asked her again to give the permission to put an end to their emotional miseries.
It felt like their worlds were breaking apart. Her smile was the last thing he saw about her. "Okay" were her last words he heard. Silence. After all those hours of looking in each others' eyes, waiting for her to give him permission, after all those 'okays' and 'nos', it took him less than a second to gather courage and push his finger on the phone and end what will never end. She cried and he took that blame on himself. Blaming himself, he didn't hold back and down came the tears of loss. It felt like he lost to himself. But, after all this that happened, who played the 'final play'? Did he by cutting it off or did she by the smile and final words in despair, "okay."? We all know who did, don't we?

They wished this never ends...