HOW I HATED HER
A slightly crumpled piece of paper lay in her desk drawer along with her resignation letter. I picked it up, and something told me it was meant for me. Suddenly, an old childhood game came to mindthe one where wed play spies and write secret messages to each other. Wed squeeze lemon juice onto a saucer or use milk as invisible ink, then write with a toothpick or cotton bud. Holding the paper over the gas hob would reveal the hidden words. Even Lisa and I had talked about those games once.
Barely waiting for lunch break, I rushed home and, like a lovesick schoolboy, fumbled with trembling hands over the gas flame. And I was rightIm always right! It *was* her letter. Shes as mad as I am!
*”If youre holding this, then I wasnt wrongyou figured out what to do with the paper. Things couldve been different. Just know this: when you humiliated me, you destroyed everything I ever felt for you. I think you even enjoyed it. Maybe thats all youre capable of. Just because someone hurt you once doesnt mean you get to mock those who wontor cantfight back. Did you really think I couldnt have returned the favour? But then, that wouldnt be me. You can win a battle and still lose the war. Dont look for me. Goodbye.”*
*Why?* I keep asking myselfwhy did I hate her so terribly, so fiercely?
Then she walked in, and it was like she carried sunlight, moonlight, the scent of the sea, and the sound of waves all in one. Birds sang impossible, fairy-tale melodies. Roses, tulips, peoniesall bloomed at once. Im no romantic, but I *felt* it.
It got stifling. Burning hot.
Lisa wasnt a classic beauty, but there was something about hersomething that drove me mad, though I couldnt say what. Think I havent seen beautiful women? Please. Ive known plenty. More than enough. I had my pickblondes, brunettes, redheads (though I preferred brunettes with short hair). Flowers, chocolates, perfume, dates. I loved and was loved. I burned fast, and if I got turned down, I moved on without a second thought.
My first love? Messy breakup. Hurt like hell. Then I realisedits better to be in control than begging for scraps.
But with her? I just wanted to bury my face in her warm lap, trace her soft, milky skin, tangle my fingers in her honey-brown curls, touch her neck, her waistbreathe her in, without limits or rules
Lisa worked under me. Not that she was my best employee, but I *trusted* her. Tough projects? Done on time. I could shout at her, relish my powerwhy did I do that? Shed shrink, so defenceless, and I wanted to break her further. But she never cracked. If shed just *cried*, Id have won. Id have wiped her tears, comforted her. Maybe then Id have changed.
I tried everything to get her attentiongifts, chocolates, compliments. Stared at her till she *had* to notice. I wanted to touch her, not just physically. I dreamed of reading her thoughts. And I almost didI *knew* she felt something too.
When she was near, it was like being scalded.
Once, I hugged her. She shoved me away, silent, just staring. How *dare* she?
She was my equal, but I refused to see it. WorseI was terrified to admit she was *mine*. But she wasnt. And that infuriated me.
Watching her handle problems was fascinating. She always sorted them.
My mates smirked, eyeing her, thinking Id already reeled her in. They wanted her too. It stungbecause it wasnt true.
She was untouchable.
Id fake phone calls with other women, laughing, flirting, arranging datesjust to spark jealousy. She didnt even glance my way.
I *knew* she felt it too. In my bones. She *had* to.
She needed this job. I thought shed endure anything, that one day shed kneel at my feet, and Id shower her with love. I *ached* for it.
But pride doesnt just break wallsit demolishes everything.
Friday came. She didnt. Phone off, email blocked. That minx left the project unfinished. She *betrayed* me.
Like a cloud, she vanished. Always just out of reach.
I never thought it could happen.
How wrong I was.
It *does* happen.
