I saw her, an innocent, graceful young girl getting married to the man of her dreams. She entered the beautiful institution called marriage with hope, love, passion and dreams, hope for a beautiful life, love and passion for the one person for whom she had given up her own world, and dreams for a better future. I bid her goodbye and prayed for her happiness.
For her, this marriage was a lifetime commitment. Each day, she would wake up to make his world perfect. Choice was a word that had lost its meaning in her life, but she had happily embraced this loss as the only thing that mattered was his happiness, his dreams, his life.
Time flies and there she was standing right in front of me. The years gone by had dimmed her charm, killed the energy in her and the passion had taken a back burner. All I could see was a plain face with quiet eyes, eyes waiting to share the story of how her marriage had fallen apart. How even with all her love and two beautiful children, she could not hold him back. He had found solace in a fresh beauty, in someone who had more to offer, someone who could make him feel alive and much younger, and someone who could take him to the new heights, somewhere he had never been before in all these years. This new experience had blinded him, blinded him to the level that all he could see and feel was the other woman. She would wait for him every day only to see the other woman in his eyes, in his dreams, in the silence that now defined their relationship. She could see her everywhere. The distance between them had killed her inside. She was only sharing the room with him. No more no less.