“LOVED OUT, HURT OUT”
“Didnt they teach you as a child that happiness built on anothers misery never lasts?” Annie gave me a faintly reproachful look.
“Oh, they did. I read about it in books. But as a child, I never needed such lessons. Back then, carefree as I was, how could I understand? What even was happiness, or misery? And how could one build something as vague as happiness on anothers sorrow? Childhood dreams were simplermore sweets, more ice cream. Cartoons to watch, films to see…
Truth be told, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriages. Where was I supposed to learn morality?
Annie, my dearest friend, was always proper and incorruptible. She never judged mequite the opposite. Over a glass of wine, shed listen with amusement to my tangled tales of love.
She, however, never allowed herself such freedoms. A lecturer at the university, her position demanded strict decorum.
Her own marriage was steady, unshaken. In their youth, her husband had been fond of Bacchusrowdy, prone to drunkenness, prone to straying.
My friend had him cured of his drinking for good. Still, her William would grumble at celebrations. “A man needs to unwind,” hed say.
Annie would reply coolly, “William, if you cant behave in company, best not try at all.”
William would fall silent. With time, he learned to take pride in pouring drinks for guests, meticulously measuring each glass, offering plates of canapés with dutiful precision.
Occasionally, Annie took him abroadSpain, perhaps, or Italy. Yet even there, he misbehaved.
“Can you believe it?” she fumed after one trip. “While I swam, that old dog chatted up some sly minx at the bar. Smiling, sipping cocktailsher eyes begging for a husband! Oh, I thought, just wait till were back in the room. Hell get an earful!”
“William denied it, I suppose?” I asked, smirking.
“Naturally! Said I was imagining things,” Annie scoffed.
“And you?”
“Bah, let him dream. Where would he go? Whod want him on his paltry salary? Even if some lonely widow took him in, shed toss him out within a month. Hes got nothing but a sparkle in his eye and empty pockets.”
When Edward entered my married life, I felt something twist inside mesomething uneasy, something wrong. Edward was married, with two sons. I fought the tide of feeling, but it crashed over me like an avalanche. This was love that tore at the seams.
Conscience whispered in my ear: “Stop. Dont grasp the hot iron. Nothing good comes of such slippery schemes. You have your own family. What do you want with a married man? Youll weep tears of blood.”
But I charged ahead recklessly. A day without Edward was unbearable. The world narrowed to him alone. We drowned in each other, loves knife at our throatsinescapable.
All barriers broke.
Left alone with our ruinous passion, we circled the same old track.
Six months in, we had nothing in common. Yet we clung to the ghost of love. I revived it, salvaged it, again and again.
Edward drank without restraint, lied shamelessly, even raised a hand to me. We were strangers from different worlds. I threw him out, took back my keys, cut off his calls, gave him the silent treatment. Hed vanish for weeks, then return with flowers and burning desire.
I took him back, aching with love, unable to erase him. I should have. He drained me, hollowed my soul, trampled my heart. Desperate, I sought refuge in anotherto wound Edward as hed wounded me. Misery loves company.
After yet another fight, Edward vanished “beyond the horizon.” Done, I thought, for good. I called an old admirer. Every woman keeps a spare, just in case
Victor was Edwards oppositesteady, courteous, sober. At first, I liked him. But within weeks, boredom set in. No fire, no thrill. Just a flat, endless line. I craved peaks and valleys, rollercoasters. Later, I regretted involving him. Not mine. He called for months before finally accepting defeat.
Alone at last, I breathed freely. Tired of the carousel, I wanted no one. A month passed in peaceful solitude.
Then Edward asked to meet. I ran, stumbling. Still in love, still hoping.
“Laura, lets end this. Well destroy each other. This fire burns too hot,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“Fine. Youre right, Edward. We cant live like thisalways on the edge,” I replied, heart crumbling but voice steady.
We parted ways. For three days. Then a knockEdward stood there, champagne in hand, flowers, eyes alight.
That night blazed. Our bodies entwined, we fell through the sky, breathless with love.
I knew morning would bring nothing good. The night had been too perfect, too sweetoverwhelming.
What followed made past torments seem trivial. Edward confessed he owed a vast sum to dangerous men. Gambling debts. Pay or face the consequences.
Months passed. We paidselling his flat, his car And with that, my passion for Edward waned. That debt was the final straw.
Now? Indifference. We live as friends, distant kin. We talk, we laugh, we sleep apart. Drifting through life. Nothing stirs me. Ive drained the bitter cup. Happiness was never built.
Loved out, hurt out.
