Work Text:
It was 11 at night, and the house quieter than usual.
The living room was dark, but not entirely so from the light streaming in through the windows.
A woman was dozing off in front of the T.V, which had a 1900's movie playing on mute. The black and white characters on the screen held none of her interest.
When the door clicked open, her body jerked forward almost as if by reflex. Her eyes still held remnants of sleep, but it was fast disappearing.
Her naked feet padded through the soft carpet on the floor, and she ran towards the door of the apartment.
As expected, a man was taking his shoes off at the entrance, supporting himself with one hand on the wall and the jacket of his suit held carefully on his forearm.
Sensing her approach, he looked up briefly, and a myriad of emotions flashed on his face in that brief glance.
There was joy, believing her to be her.
Recognition, seeing it wasn't.
Disappointment, but he'd gotten used to it.
And some form of guilt, perhaps he felt responsible.
Then finally a tired smile, because it was neither of their faults.
Her body halted, as if pushed back by some invisible force, but the next moment she continued as before.
His reaction was to be expected.
That woman was gone.
She was not her.
He moved inside, and she took his coat from him. Then while he made his way to the room besides the master bedroom, she made her way towards the kitchen.
It was the always the same.
The first thing he would do when he returned home, would be to check on his daughter.
It was no surprise, however. When she herself was entirely taken by the 8 year old.
That little child had the ability to make anyone love her. An adorable bundle of happiness.
Just like her mother. She too had that ability, albeit differently.
The microwave beeped, pulling her out of memories from the past, and she walked towards the dining table with a plate of warmed up food.
Nearly half an hour of waiting, and a gradually cooling dish later, the man slowly entered the dining area.
How was your day?
The same question, the same words, the same utter disinterest.
But like a dog for a bone, she could hardly resist.
It was fine, the kid and I went out today and she enjoyed it. What about you?
There was no anticipation behind her question, but perhaps some hope that hadn't yet dwindled away.
Mn. Fine.
That was it, a total of six words spoken by him to her throughout the day.
I see.
The meal continued in silence, him eating what she knew by heart were his favorite dishes. Him eating whatever was nearest to him.
It was the mere sight of the woman in front of him stabbing into his being.
If he didn't look up, if she didn't speak, he could still pretend.
Pretend.
It wasn't fair, not to him. And not to her.
But there was no helping it. No reversing it, no changing it, no going back, no.
She was not here.
Not anymore.
***
It was a twist of fate, a miraculous play of destiny when they met. Every part of their journey, as if pages torn from an epic romance.
She, him and her.
Her.
From a broken home, a little girl once happened to chance upon a boy much like herself. Both victims of life.
From five to seventeen, it was him and her. Her and him.
They were each other's only support. The shoulder to cry on, the hand to grasp when there was nothing else holding them down, the light to illuminate a world of endless darkness.
The little girl fell deep and fast, filled with so much love it ate her inside out. The boy...the boy loved her too, in some ways.
Happiness was within grasp. The fulfilling kind of joy they had never experienced before.
But only one of them could latch onto that happiness.
The other...the other was left confused, helpless, agonized and in endless pain.
Where was the anchor?
Where was it?
Gone.
It was when she entered their lives.
Like a wave crashing onto a peaceful beach, she disrupted what was her normal.
And the little boy was no longer the same. He was the planet to her sun. She became the center he orbited around.
Why was it her? Why couldn't it be her?
What did she have that she didn't? Why did he keep chasing after her? Where was that smile of his when she wasn't around?
By all reasons, the little girl should have been the one that the boy held dear. That was how it was meant to be, right?
Why else would fate lead them into each other's arms when they had nobody else?
They were each others, right?
But why, why was it that the boy seemed so different whenever she came around?
That redness on his cheeks, in the 12 years they had known each other, she'd never seen his face take colour that way. Never seen him struggling not to smile. Struggling not to let the joy show.
Why was it her that made him glow?
That answer was no less obvious than night was to day.
The boy had fallen madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with her.
A sort of love you only read about in great romances. One of a kind, eternal and unconditional love.
And it wasn't her.
Would never be.
So she could only watch, as the light of her life happily and willingly took out his heart from his chest to hand it to her.
Like a woman possessed, she hoped that the boy would have his affections ignored. A despicable, henious person she thought herself to be, to wish for something like that.
But it was the only way she knew that boy would return to her.
He did not.
The object of his desire wanted him too.
And then there was one.
It was no longer him and her.
It him and her.
And she? She was leftover. Alone.
But it occurred to her, they were still young. A love so pure, how long would it last? From seventeen to how long?
Surely, not all that much.
And she would still be here waiting, when she was left, wouldn't she?
So she waited, and waited.
In that time, their duo somehow become a trio.
And try as she might, she could not bring herself to like her.
Not because she was a bad person. Not because she didn't treat her well.
Truly her, a person cold by nature, took care to treat her with genuine kindness. Her, despite being a prideful person, backed down to accommodate her.
Because her, having a reputation for being reserved and ruthlessly focused, her who had turned down half the boys in school, that her, made an exception and somehow fell for the one person that she, still that little girl, couldn't let go of.
She could have had anybody else, but no. It had to be him.
Her boy. Her everything.
Few years down the line, they were still wrapped up in each other. He was still a willing slave to her smile. She was still making exceptions only for him.
There was no place for her between them.
Through highschool, through college, there were no cracks showing in their relationship.
How long had she waited now?
Why wouldn't she leave? Why?
Everyday, every little consideration that boy made for her stabbed deep into her heart. How he would take on so many part time jobs he could die, just to present her with a fitting gift for her birthday.
She deserves the best this world has to offer, I want to give her that.
Him, a person who'd never wanted much from life, never been ambitious, changed completely.
He worked, he studied, he worked some more, and then went on to study some more.
Because of her, he wanted to have the best grades, get into the best of colleges, to make enough money to drown in.
All for her.
I want to pamper her, make her the queen of my home.
She hated when he talked about her.
But whenever he was with her, which was hardly ever without her, his thoughts were never away from her.
Looking back, she and him, they never forgot her. She was still a part of her boy's life, an important part too. But it was not the same.
How she didn't come to hate her was a mystery. Because she made every attempt to show her how close she and the boy were.
No, she never, ever got jealous. Never got upset.
It often stunned her, how she was hardly ever perturbed by her behavior. Often, she smiled when she tried to rub their friendship in her face.
But it wasn't because she was a saint. Oh, no she wasn't.
Once, when drunk, she asked her.
Why is it you never lash out on me?
She remembered, her response slapping her sober.
Why should I? You aren't a threat to me, nobody is.
It was then she understood, she was so sure that the boy would never betray her. And she was thus completely at ease.
And she, she had only been making a fool out of herself.
It was at this point that she realized, they might be destined to a forever after all. Her waiting was in vain.
And she was right.
Engaged while still in college, married right after.
And still no place for her.
They often met up, them and her, but now the division was clearer than ever. It was them, and her.
Partners in every sense of the word. Business, life, love...parenthood.
A fulfilling life ahead of them.
While she was still alone, still miserable, still in unbelievable agony.
Then on a date she no longer remembered, while getting off work she received a call from the boy, now a man.
He was breathless from excitement, and he besides himself with joy.
She was expecting.
I can hardly tell you how happy I am, I...have a family now. My family.
But it didn't end there, often when she had the chance to talk with him, he'd only ever have stories of how bad her morning sickness was, how her cravings were pure insanity, how and where her body ached, how grumpy she was those days.
Her, her, her, her. HER. WHY HER? WHY HER?!
Ha, and with every incident he recounted, just from the smile on his face, she could tell he was content.
He took joy in cooking up things she wouldn't throw back up.
He took joy in rushing out at 2 am in the morning to buy her some disgusting flavored pickle.
He took joy in learning to massage like an expert so he could ease her pain.
He took joy in patiently coaxing her when she had her mood swings.
He found his joy, in his family. In her.
They had a daughter, a sweet little angel that she was the godmother to.
And he had even less time for her.
Rushing back home everyday after work to ease her burden. And she could only keep up with his life through her social media.
For a person as detached around people as she usually was, her online activity was more than you would expect.
Everyday, there were pictures of him and his daughter. Of him and his wife. His daughter and her mother.
His entire world.
Why couldn't it be her? Why couldn't they be childhood sweethearts? Why didn't he fall in love with her instead? Why her?
But no.
So time went on by, and people around her started to settle down. He even wanted to help introduce people to her.
And like a fool, she still waited.
Whe she got pregnant a second time, several years later, she was still waiting.
What for? She didn't even know herself.
Perhaps, she was destined to wait forever.
For a person who would never look at her in that way, a person whose heart was heart was ruled by someone that wasn't her.
For such a man, she still waited.
And then, just like that, she died.
Dead. Forever gone.
Taking an unborn child with her.
The boy, the man, he was...not functioning right. The daughter he so loved was not in his sight, the business he had grown with blood, sweat and tears was no longer important, the friends he'd made were less than dirt in his grief.
Nothing could console him, the devastating emptiness was unforgiving. It was killing him, slowly but surely.
She feared he didn't mind.
And, perhaps by God's design, it so happened that his daughter fell terribly sick.
It took a while, but eventually that dug him out of the void he had allowed his grief to encase him in.
She is our daughter, her and mine. How will I answer her if something happened to our child?
The little girl was in need of urgent surgery, but...a suitable bone marrow had to be found for it to happen.
Heaven shone upon her, for the first time in forever.
Her's was a match. By a strange play of creation, she had the power to save his daughter.
It was also then she realized, just how disgusting a person she was. Just how low she could stoop to fulfill her wishes.
Marry me.
It was something she didn't truly regret, most of the time. But perhaps, when she lay awake late at night, still alone, she did.
Because he agreed, and she became his wife merely an year after her death.
With great eagerness, she looked forward to making a home with him.
On the day she was to move in with him, she realized that the car was taking her somewhere away from where she knew his house was.
Towards an apartment in the best part of the city.
That was the first blow she received in that marriage.
She would never be stepping into the house she had lived in. He would never allow it.
But that was okay, she understood.
As long as he came back to her at night after work, she was content. However, countless nights of laying alone let her know, being in the same house, you could still hardly see each other.
She understood, that for as long as he lived, there would be some things he would preserve only for her.
She couldn't take his surname as his legal spouse.
His daughter's parent-teacher meets were absolutely not for her.
They would never share a bed with each other.
Never have children together.
On valentines day, on anniversaries, on birthdays, that man she knew was a romantic, would never even glance at her tenderly.
And she understood it all.
Their relationship was now worse than ever before. They were much closer as friends than as...this.
And the worst part was that he didn't treat her especially bad.
Thank you for saving my daughter.
He just didn't know how to behave around her anymore, now that he knew how she'd felt about him all this time.
But unexpectedly, he wasn't angered or disgusted with her.
It was worse than that. He thought she was sick.
I...think you should try therapy.
But she wasn't.
Right?
Right.
He was just mourning his beloved's death, so he didn't understand her right now. That was it.
So when he came home one day, more silent than usual, and simply asked her to get dressed, she was elated.
Did he finally move on? Is there room for me in his heart now?
Yes, after all. It'd been three years since she passed. Isn't that enough time for his wound to heal? That had to be it.
She wanted to take her time making herself pretty, it would be her first date after all. Although, she had no longer the beauty of her youthful self.
What did that mean? Thirty-one is still so young.
Just not on her.
Standing in front of the body-length mirror to take in her reflection, with her face sunken inwards, eyes dull and small, body skinny as a stick, she didn't look or feel her age at all.
At times like this, she would surface in her mind. Her, with that gorgeous face, arrogant way of holding herself, oozing this, this strange thing that attracted him to her like a bee to flowers. So pretty, so perfect. Why can't I...
No, nevermind her, I'm the one he's waiting for right now.
So after who knew how long, she dolled herself up. Although she didn't look much better, she did feel somewhat better.
When she exited the room, he was strangely silent.
Out the door, in the car. Still so silent.
Not a word, not a glance.
She didn't break the silence either, content just to sit beside him like that. Just to be with him.
It was only when she noticed the route they were taking, finding it familiar, did she think deeper.
Towards her house. His house. Their home.
Was he, was he bringing her there to turn a new chapter in his life?
Was he? Oh, if he was. Wonderful. A dream come true.
Yes, he was taking her there.
The car stopped when it reached as far as it could do. The sand on the beach making it difficult to go further on it.
The two stepped out, him holding the door open for her, taking her hand gently and softly.
His fingers caressed the skin of her palm in soft touches.
So...this is how he always held her.
She had this everyday?
And so much more too.
Eagerly, she walked with him, letting him lead her towards the house on the beach.
It was late, and there wasn't much light around them, but there was just enough to illuminate his face perfectly.
Feeling bold all of a sudden, she opened her mouth.
I...
But he spoke first.
'...Why did you leave?'
What?
'You are in peace, you don't know how I've been living everyday hoping just to see you again, one more time.'
..What are you saying?
He turned to look at her, eyes looking but not seeing. Gently, lovingly, his hands came up to hold her face.
'I missed you so much I could die.'
He doesn't see me.
'Promise me you'll never leave me again, I don't think I can take that anymore.'
Why, why her?
Even in death, she won't let me be.
Tears streamed down his face, while he whispered words of cherished affection through his lips. He looked so happy.
But he was drunk, when he wakes up the next day, she'd still never have him.
And it was enough.
She finally realized, that she would wait forever. And she would.
She finally realized, that his mourning, his grief would last forever.
In this love story, she was never the one meant for him.
It was them, the people you read about in stories, he was the character that readers went crazy about, oh what a caring man, I wish I found someone like that in my life.
That's what the reader would sigh.
Oh, what beautiful protagonists, these two were meant for each other.
That's what they would think while turning every page.
But her? She wasn't in the pages at all.
She was in her own life, a side character.
Watching the man she loved fall for another, helpless.
The heroine was never her.
The love was never hers.
The story, her story, was never hers.
She was but an extra.