Broken Vases part 2

Click here for Part 1

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I heard the door closed behind her. And I know that would be the last time she’d be using that door in her whole lifetime. She will never come back.

I looked at the woman sleeping beside me, even with a sexier lingerie, she looks nothing special compared to my wife. She would have looked ridiculously stupid standing next to my wife in pajamas.

I could still remember my wife’s shocked face when she saw this woman beside me when I entered our home last night. I could just imagine how she desperately tried not to listen while I made love to this woman all night.

It hurts me to hurt her this way but I know this is the only way.

Every day, she would try to become a perfect wife to me. She would replace the curtains every other day and I would not just understand why. She cooks the perfect dinner, she serves the best dessert. Sometimes, I wonder how it would taste to dine in a very fine diner, maybe I would end up commenting really bad on the food. Maybe I would tell the chef to learn lessons from my wife.

Every night she would model her sexy lingeries for me, and every night she would try to erase the hassles given to me by my work. She would take control.

Every time, she would try to be the one I’ve always wanted, the one I would never leave for another.

But after years of watching her try so hard, it made me sick. I wasn’t the one for her. I married her for what she could be, not for who she is. She saw me at just a fraction of who I really am. She saw only what she wanted to see, she was blinded by her love for me.

It makes me sick that I’m not the man who deserves what she does best, being herself.

I got up from the bed and went to the closet room, it was empty. No signs of her being here at all. The drawers which used to be full of her stuff were now barren, like brand new. Her scent runs all over the place though, and it seems just like yesterday when I surprised her with this walk-in closet, she was ecstatic, like a child. She jumped to me and kissed me many times in my whole face. She was perfect.

The emptiness of the room reminded me of my self. Empty, barren, worthless.

I closed the door behind me and walked to the kitchen. It was clean, just like before. The sink and the tables were all polished clean, never a trace of hardwork. In the table lies two plates for breakfast, neatly covered.

I have served my purpose, I’m out of her life. She would be better off without me, if only she saw that earlier. She wouldn’t have been hurt this badly.

I ate my share of the breakfast she prepared for ‘us’.

And remembered her smile, her perfect face, and everything about her…and thanked her silently for everything she’s done to me.

Someday, I will be a better man.

Suddenly I felt a stabbing pain on my stomach, like hundreds of soldiers banging my intestines, I looked at the breakfast she prepared for me for the very last time and everything became a blur.

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