“Didnt they teach you as a kid that you cant build happiness on someone elses misery?” Emily said, giving me a slightly reproachful look.
“Oh, they did. Read about it in books, too. But back then, it didnt matter. When youre a carefree kid, do you even understand what happiness or misery really means? How you could build something so vague as happiness on someone elses pain? All you dream about is more sweets and ice cream. Or not missing your favourite cartoons, maybe going to the cinema…
Honestly, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriageswhere was I supposed to learn morals from?
Emilys my best friend, always proper and unshakable. She never judges meif anything, she listens to my tangled love stories over a glass of wine, amused. She could never let herself slip like that, though. Shes a lecturer at the university, after all. Her position demands a certain decorum.
Her own marriage was stable, unbreakable. Early on, her husband, David, was a bit too fond of the bottlerowdy, unfaithful, always pushing his luck. Emily put a stop to it. She made sure he stayed sober for good. These days, at family gatherings, David might grumble about needing to unwind, to which Emily would just say, “David, if you cant behave in public, dont bother trying.”
Hed shut up. Over the years, he even took pride in pouring drinks for guests, meticulously keeping track, offering snacks. Sometimes, Emily took him on holidaySpain, Turkeybut even there, hed find a way to embarrass her.
“Can you believe it?” she fumed after one trip to Barcelona. “While I was at the pool, this idiot was flirting with some sly little thing at the bar. All smiles, cocktails, her eyes practically begging for him. Oh, I let him have it latershowed him exactly what happens when he pushes his luck.”
“Bet he denied everything?” I smirked.
“Of course! Said I was imagining things,” Emily scoffed.
“And you?”
“Eh, let him dream. Wheres he gonna go? Whod want him with his pitiful salary? Even if some lonely widow took him in, shed toss him out within a month. Hes got nothing but a cheap twinkle in his eye.” She shrugged, content in her certainty.
When James came into my married life, something twisted inside me. He had a wife, two sons. I fought the feelings, but they crashed over me like an avalanche. It was love that burned too bright.
My conscience whispered, “Stop. Dont touch the hot iron. Nothing good comes from this mess. You have your own familywhy chase a married man? Youll regret it. Youll cry rivers.”
But I charged ahead anyway. Couldnt go a day without him. James and I drowned in each other. Love held a knife to my throatno escape.
Then, all barriers broke. Just us and this ruinous passion. And the same cycle, over and over.
Six months in, we realised we had nothing in common. But we swore the love was still alive. I revived it so many timespatching, pleading.
James drank endlessly, lied shamelessly, even raised a hand to me. We were from different worlds. I kicked him out, took my keys back, cut off his phone, gave him silence. Hed vanish for weeks. Then return with flowers and feverish promises.
I took him back because I loved himpainfully, hopelessly. I shouldve cut him loose. He drained me, hollowed me out, left me raw. So I flung myself into another relationshipspiteful, wanting him to hurt like I did. Why should I suffer alone?
One day, after another “final” fight, James vanished. I called an old admirerevery womans got a backup, right?
Victor was James opposite. Calm, polite, sober. At first, I liked it. But within weeks, boredom set in. No fire, just flatline. I missed the chaos, the highs and lows. I regretted letting him in. Not my type. He called for months before finally giving up.
Alone at last. Blissful freedom. A month passed in peace.
Then James asked to meet. I ran, stumbling. Still loved him, still hoped.
“Claire, lets end this. Well destroy each other. This intensityits too much,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
“Fine. Youre right, James. We cant make it work. Were always on edge.” My heart shattered, but I held steady.
We walked away. For three whole days.
Thena knock. James at the door, champagne in hand, flowers, that smouldering look.
The night burned. Our bodies tangled. We fell into the sky, breathless.
I knew morning would bring nothing good. That night was too perfect, too much.
Turns out, all my past torment was just the warm-up. James confessed he owed serious money to dangerous people. Gambling debts. Pay up, or face the consequences.
It took time, but we paid it off. Sold his flat, his car… And just like that, my passion for him faded. That debt was the last straw.
Now? Nothing. Were like polite friends, distant relatives. We talk, laugh, sleep under separate blankets. Drifting. Nothing stirs. I drained the bitter cup dry. No happiness built here.
Loved out, burned out.”
