"There's someone else..."

The words seem to echo slightly, quickly disappearing into a silence so loud it’s near unbearable. But the words themselves convey nothing to her, just at that moment. He could have blabbered jargon, or recited the first few lines of ‘Jabberwocky’, for all the sense it makes to her. She just stares for a moment that seems to last an eternity, then continues to sip her coffee as she waits for the enormity of what he’s just said to sink in.

Sink in it does, too early to numb the pain and too late to stop him from leaving. Him- her friend, her confidante, her husband. The man that she’d loved… no, worshipped ever since they’d played together in his backyard as five-year olds. He was leaving her now. What is she like, she wonders. Does she know he doesn’t like yellow? That he likes his food slightly on the salty side? She wonders about that other one… Is she pretty? Intelligent? What was it about her that made him break a million promises he’d made?

She frowns as she reaches for the toothbrush in the morning. If your toothbrush is still wet, you obviously haven’t slept much. When she looks at herself in the mirror, she sees a tired face, eyes heavy with tears that refuse to come. A defeated woman, she thinks as she turns away.

She gazes absently at the card on the mantelpiece… the one he’d given her for Valentine’s Day. It was a card that didn’t overdo the mush and yet didn’t underplay the sentiment behind Valentine’s Day. It hits her all over again, like an unpleasant wave, the realization that this time, it’ll be with someone else that he shall have a candlelight dinner; it shall be someone else who gets the red roses.

How could a love so strong have failed? Where did she go wrong? She still remembers the day they’d first met, and the current of love that went through her every time she saw him after that. She remembers the way he’d brushed her hair away from her face, looked into her eyes and said he loved her. She remembers the way he had breathed her name into her hair many a night. Try as she might, she cannot push away these memories. Try as she might, she feels no anger, no jealousy… Just overwhelming fatigue and emptiness. She loves him… Loves him too well, but not wisely. Absent-mindedly, she picks up a blade, and holds it over the pale skin on the inside of her wrist.

Was he worth the pain? Was he good enough to die for? Indecision stays her hand. Should she, or shouldn’t she? She remembers all the happiness he and she had shared together… The number of times they’d been giddy with laughter. She sighs. Life wouldn’t be the same without him, but it would nevertheless go on. The blade is down, for good.

She doesn’t know it then, but for years to come, she continues to wear black, a color he loves. She continues to wear her hair the way he liked. That card lies on the shelf, gathering dust, for years to come.

And those words, those damned words, “There’s someone else” continue to echo in her ears, for years to come.