Reflections

And still his eyes spoke volumes. Just like old times. But the reflections in them, they had changed. Everything had changed. Yet again in his eyes, I did not see any repentance. Not even when he left me, left me for another woman. He told me she had given him everything I did not, was everything I could never me. His affection for this woman had shredded me to bits. Helplessly all I could do was stare.

People often told me I was lucky I got out of his shackles, yet those shackles defined who I was. His bondage had molded my entire existence. He was a habit I had fallen in love with, distinctively and I had learnt to love him with all of myself. He had made me complete. Freedom was a lot more painful than clutching onto him.

He was never rude nor forceful. His charming smile was the same, with which he had once brought me in now asked me to move out.
I did not know whether the girl was lucky or as ill-fated as me. I was not jealous, but I could never forgive her, for she had taken away what I lived for, my hope. It is strange how he holds her hand like he used to hold mine. Did I ever think of trying to save my marriage? Did I try? I do not know. I mean how and where did things go wrong?
I cried every night, but building myself was tough.

Sometimes in a crowded bus or metro, when my eyes bleed tears, I still wonder how things could have been otherwise. Sometimes it still haunts me. His eyes. Staring back at me with nothing in them. Nothing at all!