Sunlight filtered through the antique-gold voile curtains, casting a warm glow over my bedroom. A glorious dawn had broken. A new day… a new beginning.
Slipping silently out of bed, I tiptoed to the spare room and peered through the gap in the door. How peaceful you looked. How tranquil. While I was in turmoil.
We’d talked long into the night and I should be sleeping as soundly as you, but wounds heal slowly and scars may never.
How remorseful you’d been. How sorry. How determined to make things right.
How different, your words, from those spoken… 6 months earlier.
“I do love you Claire,” the prelude to my world falling to pieces. “But I’m in love with someone else.”
I think I stopped breathing but you continued just the same.
“I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t live a lie.”
I’m sure you said more but all I remember is retreating to the kitchen and pouring myself a large glass of red… silently drowning while you packed.
Over the next few weeks, I barely functioned. I’d no intention of stalking you but you’d left a forwarding address and I was curious. Curious of a woman I’d never met… a woman my husband was in love with.
She was tall, slim and attractive of course, exactly how I’d imagined her to be. I thought you’d spot me, observing from across the street, but you were too wrapped up in each other to notice.
I didn’t go into the office that day. I stopped off at the supermarket, on my way home, and re-stocked the wine rack.
You stirred and I drew back; nowhere near ready to give you my answer. Not while my heart was still doing battle with my head.
My heart… making a strong case for love. In the belief that it really did conquer all.
My head countering… recalling dark days of pain and despair. Calling into question my capacity to forgive and forget.
I returned to my bed to listen to their closing arguments.
Would today be our new dawn? Or our last sunset.