Angry Decisions

Ramya Mathur
Sep 5, 2018 · 3 min read

When we walked away from each other, we didn’t truly know the degree to which we would be damaging ourselves in the process. When we we gave up on us, we never imagined that facing the truth about our futures without the other would be so bleak. But then, when we walked away from each other, like the rest of our passions, our anger over something so small had overcome us both.

And now, he was there facing a future with another woman who loved him so. But he knew. He knew it wasn’t the all-encompassing and all-consuming love that we had. He knew it wasn’t right. He was choosing, he said. He was choosing to spend his life with someone who loved him completely, even if he couldn’t love her completely in return. All because I had chosen to do the same.

It happened again one day in the summer. Meeting by chance. There was nothing earth shattering or super romantic about the day at all. It was a bleak winter day, cold and rainy and windy. I was in the little book shop inside King’s Cross browsing the new influx of books in the clearance bin when he touched my outstretched hand. I knew who it was the moment I saw the hand. I had grown up holding that hand and knew every crease and line on it and moreover, I had bought for him the Breitling on his wrist. How I had missed that face!

Coffee turned into dinner and pretty soon we were back to the old familiar laughing banter. As if time had never passed. It was that easy. One look at the ring finger on my left hand though, and I was reminded of the passage of time all the same. I was married and he was about to be. But we both knew it had been a hasty decision on our part to end our relationship so long ago. We never spoke of it that day, but I knew seeing each other that day that reawakened something in us. Something we had kept shoved down deep and under lock and key. We had fallen in love again.

What followed were months of random calls and lunches all in the name of catching up. One fine day though, he had had enough and we finally spoke plainly.

That conversation overlooking the Thames is one I will never forget. He told me that I was the love of his life. The woman he should be marrying in a few weeks time. That we had made a bad decision calling it quits when we did. That I had married the wrong man. Then, knowing that he was right and knowing that I could never say no to him, he kissed me. And I kissed him back. We stood there in the balcony of the club overlooking the Thames and never spoke another word. And then he left.

I realized then that this is how things would be from now on. Our lives would forever be moving in two separate directions. Perpetually aware of the other but never connecting. It would never be like it was again. I would never be the center of his attention again. And I missed it. I craved it and I missed it. What kind of person did that even make me? I was disappointed in myself. How did I even let myself become this person? This person that revelled in being the constant object of his affection. Truth be told, I blossomed in it. It made me feel alive. More alive than I have ever felt in my life. Alive and happy and free.

No wonder I miss it.

For all his bluster about his feelings for me, does he even think about me? Is he so busy with the rest of his life that he has already forgotten about me? No, I don’t believe that. That’s just the sadness talking. I know that. I know what he feels for me. More than what he has told me, I know what he has not told me. What he has implied. What he has refused to say but let me guess. I know what he will do for me. So yes, I know what he feels for me.

Photo by Slava Bowman on Unsplash

Written by

An eternal romantic wrapped in layers of pragmatism. Always lost in thought.

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