They were a young couple. Madly in love with each other or so they thought. They had just started building their brand new home. A cozy little abode enough for two, in a serene quiet corner. It was a carefully selected plot, away from the jarring noise of the outside world. Sheltered and cozy.
Bit by bit they added to their haven. Every day they reminded each other of the blissful life they would enjoy once their efforts brought fruit. They were already dreaming of adding to their family.
They were happy.
And then I came along. I saw what they were doing. I watched them in their joint endeavor towards a love filled abode. I was jealous. They were making their home on the foundation of a relationship that had just started budding for me. The relationship which I dreamed of nurturing and cherishing for a long time.
I did what I had to do. With my own bare hands I broke their beautiful home. I smashed it and threw away the smithereens. My unfeeling heart cold as stone. I wanted my relationship back.
And I got it back. I saved it at the cost of their home.
And now I watch them, the beautiful pair of pigeons, frantically looking for what was once their home - the money-plant pot in my balcony. They look back at me with sad eyes.
I am full of remorse.
Forgive me, I broke your home.