“Loved Out, Healed Out”
“Didnt they tell you as a child that you cant build happiness on someone elses sorrow?” Emily asked, glancing at me with mild reproach.
“They did. Read about it in books, too. But as a child, I didnt need that wisdom. Back then, you dont really grasp what they meanwhats happiness, whats sorrow? How can you build something as vague as happiness on someone elses pain? Childhood dreams are simplermore sweets, more ice cream, catching your favourite cartoons, or a trip to the cinema”
Truth be told, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriages. Where was I supposed to learn morality from?
Emilymy steadfast, principled friendnever judged me. Over a glass of wine, shed listen with amusement to my tangled love stories. She never allowed herself such indulgences, though. A lecturer at Oxford, she had a reputation to uphold.
Her marriage was stable, unshakable. In their younger days, her husband, James, had been fond of Bacchus embracerowdy, unfaithful, always toeing the line. Emily had him permanently sobered up. At dinner parties, James would sometimes grumble, “A man needs to unwind,” to which Emily would calmly reply, “If you cant behave, James, best not try.” Hed fall silent, and over time, he learned to take pride in pouring drinks for guests, meticulously measuring each pour, offering snacks with exaggerated courtesy.
Occasionally, Emily took James on holidaySpain, Italy. But even there, he found trouble.
“Can you believe it?” she fumed after their trip to Barcelona. “While I was at the pool, that rascal was at the bar, cozying up to some quick-handed tart. Smiling, laughing, sipping cocktailsher eyes begging for a new husband. Oh, I gave him hell when we got back!”
“Bet he denied everything,” I grinned.
“Of course! Said I was imagining things,” Emily scoffed.
“And you?”
“Let him dream. Wheres he going? Whod want him on his measly salary? Even if some lonely widow scooped him up, shed toss him out within a month. Hes got nothing but a twinkle in his eye and empty pockets.”
When Daniel came into my married life, I felt that sharp, uneasy pull. He was married with two sons. I fought the feelings, but they tumbled like an avalanchewild, unstoppable. It was love on the edge.
Reason whispered in my ear: *Stop. Dont touch the hot iron. Nothing good comes from this. You have your own family. Why chase a married man? Youll weep bloody tears before this ends.*
But I charged ahead. I couldnt go a day without him. He was my sun, my moon. We drowned in each other. Love held a knife to our throatsno escape.
Then, every barrier fell.
Left alone with our ruinous passion, we circled the same worn path. Six months in, we had nothing in commonyet we clung to the ghost of love. I revived it, resuscitated it, again and again.
Daniel drank without end, lied brazenly, even raised a hand to me. We were worlds apart. I kicked him out, took back my keys, cut off his phone, gave him the silent treatment. Hed vanish for weeks, then return with roses and burning promises. I took him backpainfully in love, unable to let go.
I should have. He drained me, hollowed me out, turned me inside out. So I plunged into new armsVictor, Daniels opposite. Calm, polite, sober. At first, a relief. Then, stiflingly dull. No fire, just a flatline. I missed the chaos. Regret followed. He lingered, calling, hoping, until he finally understood: hed been dismissed.
Alone at last, I breathed. A month of quiet. ThenDaniel called.
“Lets end this, Laura,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Well destroy each other otherwise.”
“Youre right,” I replied, heart crumbling. “Were walking a razors edge.”
We parted. For three days. Thena knock. Daniel stood there, champagne in hand, flowers, eyes alight.
That night burned. We tangled, gasped, fell through the sky. Dawn brought nothing goodperfection always does.
The real torment came later. Daniel confessed a gambling debtserious money owed to serious men. We sold his flat, his car, paid it off. And just like that, my love for him withered. The debt was the last straw.
Now? Indifference. Were cordial, distant, sleeping under separate blankets. Adrift. The cups been drainedbitter to the last drop.
No happiness was built here.
Loved out, healed out.
*Sometimes, the heart must break completely before it learns to beat again.*
