The Other Woman

As I watched him walk away, I felt a piece of my heart breaking. Everything appeared ambiguous and bleary as my eyes brimmed with tears. Those precarious manifestations of distress had surreptitiously welled up, scornfully loathing the pseudo smile I had managed to work up. I knew somewhere in my heart, that he had a morbid inclination too, or maybe I preferred to believe so... But somehow it wasn't very obvious. There was a spring in his gait, a sparkle in his eyes and a mirth in his words, which he tried very hard to façade, but unfortunately, I saw right through him, just like every other time. I did not understand it. Over the years, we had grown so fond of each other, shared every secret, sulked together at every failure and rejoiced in each other's every infinitesmal success.  Then why have we grown apart now...

He couldn’t possibly have stopped loving me. That morning, when he had walked up to me, I could already sense something queer. I have always had the uncanny knack of forseeing trouble. He, with great reverence, suggested that it would be better if we introduced some segregation in our lives. That way we could both lead our personal lives. Personal lives.. I didn’t have a life other than him. When he was sick, I nursed him. When my husband deserted me, I cried and bellowed in his arms. Every time agony struck me, this face brought a smile on my lips.  I didn’t want to, but I agreed because I didn’t want to dishearten him. For so long, we had resurrected each other's faith in the world, now it was time to validate our trust in each other. Times and things had changed.

The first time I descried about her, my intuition poked and jeered at me. ‘She is the one. She will snatch him away from right under your nose.’ But I chose to disbelieve. The first time he lied to me, it was for her. But I chose to ignore. Then he married her. I thought I could live with that. But then, she went a step ahead, and veered him away from me. He was as impeccable and mellow as wet clay. She molded him into something different and variegated. He was an altered person. His unconditional love for me had changed. And he left me, for the other woman.

He reassured me that we would always remain in touch. But I was sure, soon he would be dexterously engrossed in his work and his new life with her.  And I would just remain a fading figment of his past, en ephemeral sense of nostalgia and an occasional phone call. For him, I would always embody a lingering sense of guilt. And to me, he would always herald a few sanguine expectations.

My little boy had grown up. It made me happy, but it also broke my heart to see him walk away from me... leave my hand and lead his own life. But as his mother, it was my duty to let go.