Her eyes open, and I can see the effect of my words in them.
“But I don’t want our first kiss to happen in the back of a bathroom.”
Her eyebrows furrow, disappointment flashes through her eyes, and I hate myself for it just as much as I know I am not wrong. Not this time.
“I want our first kiss to be special.” I caress her cheek, hoping she understands. “I want it to mean something.”
Hurt mars her face, and I just hope she understands.
“Is that an excuse because you don’t want to kiss me?”
Her words trigger me, and I pull away slightly to look at her.
How could she even think that?
Me? Not wanting to kiss my wife? Bullshit.
Even when we weren’t talking, I wanted to kiss her.
I was just too afraid of the distance that had bridged between us to do it.
“Are you saying that to hurt me, or do you really think that way?”
“I think that way, Reyansh,” she says, pushing me away. “You don’t have to pretend you want me. You can just let me go.”
I reach out for her arm as she steps down from the counter and tries to move out.
I pull her towards me, and her back clashes against my front. I grip her chin to make her face us in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine. And the one thing that is common between us is the pain on our faces.
It is funny how we manage to hurt each other at the same time as we heal each other.
“You know one thing I am done doing?”
She doesn’t answer, so I go on.
“I am done pretending I don’t want you.”
Aisha Kapoor
The disappointment that engulfed me when he refused to kiss me morphs into butterflies the instant the words leave his mouth.
The truth is, I am done pretending as well. I am done pretending that I am okay with us being away. I am done pretending that I am okay with the divorce—which is funny because I was the one who proposed it. I was the one who decided it would be best for us to part ways.
What I didn’t know was that it wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought in my mind it would be. I didn’t think Reyansh would care because for the longest time he made me feel like he didn’t. And I should hate him for that.
But I don’t.
God, I hate that I don’t.
Instead, he decided to become the person I fell in love with, if not better. He became the one I had dreams about, the one I cried for, the one I missed with all my heart, and now I don’t know what to do.
But on top of that, I am done betraying myself.
I am done betraying my heart by saying that I don’t want him anymore.
Because I do. God, every part of me yearns to be with him.
“I—”
