The Aftermath

Adarsh sat at the table, reaching for the newspaper unconsciously, and stopped short. The other chair was empty, and Varsha was not sitting across him, trying to avoid giving him the paper. She would be at his table, he thought bitterly. Drinking her morning coffee with her usual assortment of fruits. She would have her face puckered in a frown, as she tried to concentrate on the sudoku puzzle in the paper.

She had moved out almost right after he found out about her affair.

How could she?

He felt like a fool. A cuckolded husband, is probably what everyone thinks of me now. He used to think he was immune to gossip. Immune to what others thought of him. And then this!

The silent questions, the disappointment, the worried glances, the shattering of what his friends thought was 'an ideal marriage'. The worst part of it all, was the pity he saw in his friends' faces.

He so wished he could take the coward's way out. Why am I stuck with the shards of glass when it was she who broke the mirror?

And then there were those that tried to help. By setting him up on blind dates. He hadn't been on a "date" in almost fifteen years. Except of course, with Varsha. What was he supposed to talk about? How his heart was wrenched apart?

How could she?

Was it so easy to throw away what seemed like almost a lifetime of togetherness? He wanted his questions answered. But he couldn't stand the thought of seeing her and not being with her. He couldn't understand how things could change so quickly; how she could be so happy while he missed her every second of everyday!

Some of his friends tried telling him that time heals. He didn't care. He only wanted the numbness in his chest to go away. So he could start living again.

He didn't know how, but he had to, of that he was sure.

How could she?