“The Story begins”
He loved her immensely but he loved the other woman, too. Many people would be quick enough to judge him, to label him but he had his own reasons and he wanted someone to understand why he did what he did and why he continued doing it.
It was raining heavily that night and he had left his house without an umbrella. He finally took shelter under a huge tree. It was there that he met her, clothes soaked in rain, wet hair plastered on her face. He fell in love instantly. He could not stop himself from staring at her. She was aware that he was staring at her but avoided eye contact with him. His wife, on the other hand, he knew would have made eye contact with the person staring at her, humiliating the person and forcing him to look the other way. However, knowing his wife, he also knew that she would have liked the kind of attention she was getting from the person.
This woman on the other hand was avoiding eye contact but clearly seemed to be uncomfortable. It was understandable, considering the kind of weather it was and the kind of clothes she was wearing. Her wet white shirt stuck to her body and failed to conceal the white skin beneath and the white bra that she was wearing and her skirt hugged her thighs, her legs glistening wet with rain. However, “that” was not what held his attention. Being a man he could not avoid noticing these details but what really attracted him towards her were her blue eyes which he had gotten the chance to get a glimpse of when their eyes had met briefly for the first and the only time she was there, standing a few feet away from him under the adjacent tree.
The rain stopped and the woman dashed across the street, away from him and his piercing gaze. He stood there, regretting staring at her the way he did. The woman clearly must have got the wrong idea. He hoped he would see her again so that he could get a chance to apologize. And indeed, he met her again, he did not get the chance to apologize though. His wife and he were at a funeral of a common friend. And there she was. Clad in black, wearing a black hat, the veil covering her eyes, which he was sure were glistening with tears. He could see her trembling slightly and knew it was not because of the cold. She had lost someone dear. The man lying in the casket belonged to her. Who was he to her? He wondered. It was inappropriate for him to be having such thoughts standing where he was standing but he could not resist the magnetic pull he felt towards her. The woman raised her head and stared straight at him taking him by surprise and he stared back at her, deep into her glistening blue eyes. The gaze connected them in a strange way. All of a sudden they were enveloped into a bubble separating them from the people standing around them. They continued staring as the casket was lowered into the ground and then the bubble burst. She looked away. She walked towards the casket, picked up a handful of soil and threw it over the casket – clearly indicating to him that she was family. She was the person to initiate the burial. That man, the common friend of his wife and him was someone special to her. His wife tugged at his coat and then signalled to walk forward. He and his wife paid their respect together. When he turned around to walk back he saw her looking at him and his wife. Then she disappeared into one of the black cars parked outside the church.
He knew in his heart that they would meet again. They had a story together and it was yet to be written. The paper was laid on the desk, the nib dipped in ink, what remained was the writing of the story.