\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1031807-Regret
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #1031807
An account of a husband feeling regretful of how fate had laid his path.
         “Why are we so unlucky?”
         I whispered into the darkness, allowing the words to seep into the walls as though they could listen. I had been sitting on a chair beside a bed. Wherein lies upon a young lady, sleeping soundly, at peace with the comforting silence. Looking at her face then, I thought to myself, what was she dreaming? Is she dreaming about us living together for the rest of our lives? Or about what other things that life could throw at us in the near future? Whatever it was, I soaked up the image of her picture perfect face then. The face that belongs to my wife, my lifelong partner.
         Oh…how I wished to wrap my arms around her. Embracing her in all my undying love for her. But I did not want to wake her up. No, that would not be nice. So I settled for brushing my hand lightly against her cheek and tucked a strain of her hair behind her ear. Soft and subtle was my touch. Again, the same thought occurred to me, like on every night that had passed by: How long can I keep doing this? A tear fell onto her cheek. She did not move, never budging from her pose. She was still in dreamland, breathing rhythmically as though nothing had happened. I sighed before closing my eyes and allowing the whirlwind of memories to engulf me.



         I held her hand as we walked along the path, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere that had dawned upon us. We did not speak to each other for a long time, our thoughts preoccupied. I had been thinking about us, our future specifically. We had been together for a long time. Knowing each other since primary school, we knew the other inside out. To me, we seemed like the perfect couple. But, of course, nothing in this world is perfect. Our families objected to our relationship from the very beginning. Being of different races was the main cause of conflict. I am Malay, she is Chinese. Nevertheless, we kept it together through all these years, even my National Service. Still, it boiled down to one thing: How long can we keep doing this?
         “I love you,” I said, breaking the silence.
         She drew herself closer to me in reply and rested her head on my shoulder. I told her about my thoughts; she listened emphatically, not saying a word. At the end of it all, she merely squeezed my hand, agreeing with me. We continued walking. Our pace now a forgotten action to focus on. I grasped her hand tighter, wishing that the moment would last – although I would be contented with an everlasting memory of it. I spoke up again, wanting to convey something important. She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes, trying to read my mind. I simply continued without hesitating.
         “Will you marry me?”

         We never told our parents about the engagement. We were not married yet so we just continued our lives as per normal; it depends on how you see it. Our relationship was a secret we kept from everyone else – a sacrifice we did to live with the other. Although it was hard at first, having to run away from our families, we persevered through.
         On the anniversary of our engagement, I was working late that day. I gave her a call. She said she would wait. We had no plans on that day, only wanting to spend the night together in our home. Going out of the building after I had finished my work and into my car, I drove to my destination – a gift shop. I had wanted to buy something for her, a crystallised miniature of a flower. To me, it meant two things. Firstly, it symbolised her – purity, beauty and innocence. Secondly, it represented our relationship. As strong as the crystal could be, even when it became chipped. When I entered the shop, the owner smiled at me. He had especially stayed open a bit longer, waiting for my presence. I smiled back and paid for the package sitting readily on the counter. I left after that, package in hand, and made my way to my love who was waiting for me patiently.




         She looked so lovely, even when she was asleep. It had always appalled me why she had chosen me of all people. With a beauty like hers, she could have anybody she wanted. Yet she chose me – her long time friend. I felt lucky to have her in my life. She made me feel loved, comfortable, at ease with the world like there would be no tomorrow and that the night would last forever. I could never imagine having to live without her.
         She had been asleep when I arrived home. I cursed myself for being late. Making her wait for hours made me feel guilty just thinking about it. The fact that she had fallen asleep while waiting made me resent my actions even more. I cursed again, this time at the rain. Why had it rained so heavily? It had blurred my vision when I was driving and I never saw the lorry heading towards me. I could not believe it. I would not be able to feel her touch, her warmth, and her love anymore. As I slowly drifted away into the white light, I glanced back for a final look at her. In my heart, she would always be my wife, my lifelong partner.




         She slowly opened her eyes. Glancing at the table clock, she noticed it was already two hours past midnight. Realising it was already late, she wondered why he had not returned home yet. She dismissed away the thought as soon as she thought of it. Her lips slowly curled into a smile at the mere image of him in her mind. Their first anniversary would be one that neither of them would ever forget, she thought to herself. As she slowly went back to sleep, her eyelids feeling heavy again, she thought of how she would give her present to him the next morning. It would be the best present for their very first anniversary. The fact that she was pregnant with their baby. And with the thought still fresh in her mind, she slept – without knowing what was in store for her the next day.
© Copyright 2005 walshammer (walshammer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1031807-Regret