A story nestled in shadows

It was a soft voice, a gentle voice telling a mundane story rather unwillingly to a horde of uninteresting folks, some dressed up middle aged ladies sipping onto champagne, simpering and trying to outdo each other rather bluntly … vulgarly. The typical Retro parties companies throw on New Year’s Eve where everybody attends because they are forced to … not because they actually want to.

“So what happened next, dear?”

“Oh ... Nothing. They just lived happily ever after”

A blatant lie, it didn’t take a person with a fragment of foresight to realize that she was lying at least about the ending.

It would only take a single look in her greenish blue eyes to know.

There was one listener really, one keen listener leaning against a wall in an abandoned corner near the dimly lit exit, lurking in the shadows. That man, he never smokes, never drinks... never pretends to be interested, unlike her. He was always watching and listening and pondering... deep in thought. She knows now it is in his nature. He is a level-head, a thinker. His melancholic brown eyes cast to the ground … But she chose not to notice.

She decided to disengage from that crowd, she had given them their entertainment already.

Now, it was time to leave.

But She knew she had to walk towards the exit, past him …

“I am thoroughly impressed how could you sell on such cheap story to such massive crowd"

Some other man, the type she likes would have pulled her in the shadows, tucked her in and whispered to her ears, his breath huffing onto her neck, but this man … no, he wasn’t that type.

He was all about prim and proper and polite.

‘But you are lying, you know are … he did that once and you liked it so freaking much ..’

“Which part of the story you didn’t like?”

“The part where the male protagonist professes he has feelings towards his fling, the part where he offers to leave with her … the part where he tells her that his betrothal, his engagement was a mistake … In real life, things don’t happen this way, right?”

She closes her eyes and sighs … this is all him, nothing new, echoing her words and using them against her.

“It is a story. It doesn’t have to be real, does it? I fail to see why it should concern you at all”

“I am only ever telling you my opinion, my critique. Of course, you are free to accept it or not.”

She smiled … that type of desperate resigned smile. He wanted to lash out at her, he was prodding her but unfortunately … it was too late, literally and figuratively.

“I will keep it in mind next time”

She readied herself to resume her exit, the one she presumed would be quiet but he had some other saying …. “And I think your heroine was every bit of a slut, a player, really despite your efforts to victimize her … to chastise her. I mean how come they both couldn’t stand each other, and then all of a sudden they develop such an intense connection, such an affair. She must be either really sick or she was simply playing him from the start”

“You really think that” she tried to keep an even tone but he knew better. She was offended, to her core but she wouldn’t show.

And he wouldn’t show any clemency either.

Then for the first time since their ‘conversation’ started, she turned to face him. Her eyes, innocent and doll like in nature, were bleary, tinted with hurt and an emotion he didn’t want to dwell on.

And his resolution to break her, eventually boiled down to nothing.

She was already broken, as much as he has become insane.

She loved him, god damn it. She loved him and he damn knew. And he damn does.

There is an impulse that generates within him, one to pull her to him then clutch onto her till the world disappears and everything as they know crumbles to dust so they could start anew, where they could create their perfect place, perfect time. It is one similar to … the impulse that preceded that moment of lapse in judgement, when he felt she was so close and he felt she was so beautiful and soft and …. He could still feel her hands on him, stroking his hair gently, moving down to his face. And he wishes she would do the same again, bury her head within his chest …

Surprisingly she does, at that particular moment she does and he holds her close as she weeps.

He doesn’t, he doesn’t cry but he just shushes her. And suddenly she is reminded of how gentle he can be, how mild and comforting his touches are.

“You love me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond … this word, it will be her undoing. She has already had enough.

“And you think it is wrong, that you love me. But you wonder how something so wrong could feel so right.”

“And don’t you do the same?”

They both know it is a miracle they haven’t been found out yet, that no-one passed them yet so he does what he should have done long ago and instinctively pulls the both of them to the shadows.

“Do you remember when you said that some righteousness in a mistake doesn’t make a mistake right?”

“I still believe it”

“You are always so stubborn.” There is a hint of amusement in his voice that doesn’t escape her.

“Just like you are”

“I wanted to tell her, you know I wanted to but it was you who adamantly refused. It was you who held back. I wanted to rectify this, to do justice to you both … it was you who … ”

“I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t just let you tell her. I may have never liked her but I hurt her once and I know that this truth.. it would kill her. I can’t live with this.”

“So you hurt us both, how rational!”

“What would you say to her, huh? What would you tell your wife? That you slept with me, or perhaps that you love me? What will you tell her, that she is free to go after all this time and all those years? That your heart changed? What would you tell everybody else? …”

“I am willing to face all repercussions; I am willing to have them crash on my head if it will resolve all this mess and let us find our peace. You think she hasn’t noticed? You think she doesn’t feel something is amiss. You think she doesn’t know we are lying. Every wretched person in this wretched place knows something is going on but they just can’t put their hands on the right clue. It is only a matter of time before ….”

“I am leaving”

She breaks away from him then steps back.

“Just like every time, you switch subjects or esca..”

“I am leaving this town in a couple of days”

He lividly stares at her as if she had struck him across the face, as if she had fooled him twice.

“Then why did you come today? HUH. Why the hell did you come if you were already leaving in a couple of days?”

“I came here to see you, only you”

“Stop messing with my head”

“I am not messing with your head. I am simply not strong enough, nor courageous enough, nor bad enough …. I am only sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have … but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help but fall in love with you, even when I knew you were married, even when I was pushing you away, even when I was fighting you like it was nobody’s business”

“So leave” he said in his most icy tone “Leave and never come back again. I don’t want to see your face ever again”

She reaches towards him one last time, willing to cup his cheeks one last time and he almost leans into her touch before pulling away, realizing it will only ever be distance between them and a mistake that will never be confessed, never be rectified.

And he wished he could convince her that keeping it hidden or lying about it, will cost them both more damage than just admitting to it and dealing with the consequences but it was futile trying to convince her and he wouldn’t .. couldn’t do it alone, without knowing she would be there for him, with him.

She stealthily made her way to the exit, trying not to look back … while he stared behind as she faded from view.

“I only ever loved you” he whispered before surrendering back to the shadows where he felt he belonged.