You said you wanted to leave

Last night, you slept on the couch. I was alone in our bed. I didn't even hear your snoring.

I get up and head to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I remember your gaze from last night, reaching hands, and eyes. I look at the mirror once again, I think there's a strange expression on my face.

I think about the time I first fell in love with you. Throughout my life, I had imagined a life away from men, but somehow, I had found myself devoted to you. I had worked like a dog for freedom, and now I was covering my body with coconut oil, hoping that you might want to touch me. Canceling my plans in case you called, and brushing my teeth after every smoke. 

I go to the kitchen and make tea. The kettle starts boiling, and the morning sun falls through our window, sorry, my window.

Now, your belongings lay at the front door. I washed, ironed, and arranged your shirts and pants. I couldn't bring myself to leave them as a mess; since you're 38 and don't know how to iron.

I remember feeling so guilty because of all this. I knew how much you loved me. It was the way you looked at me back then, your trembling over me, your sweetness. Your words. Yet, something kept me at a distance. I couldn't convince myself of the fact that I could do anything for you.

But I overcame it, of course. I saw that I grew with our love, that I could be free even if I was in love. Years passed, and we loved each other more and more. We were a team. We didn't make each other whole because no one was incomplete. We were just, together.  

Then, last week, you left me. You said that there was someone else. 

The phrase, being cheated on, as I think about it, isn't it just so fitting? Not because you slept with someone else. But because you cheated my feelings, my thoughts, my happiness. Because you cheated the years I gave you, my hopes, and me, me who loved you dearly.

I didn't tell you about all of these storms swirling inside me because, darling I didn't think you'd understand. You never knew how much I sacrificed for you, how I sprinkled my time and love on you like fairy dust while you flew above and I proudly watched from below. 

I cried and thought every night for a week. Who even was I to you? A stepping stone for you to reach your full potential, a challenging stage you encountered in the second act of your character development. Just a woman, for you to become a better man. 

After smoothing out all your rough edges, after removing all the thorns with the tips of my fingers, after all of the things that I have lost, because and for you, you were leaving me. You would be mature, and experienced, like a fine wine, while I, I would be used and old. Me, with my bloodied hands, grumpy and broken, such a sad bore. They would mock me, shielding their mouths with their hands, reminding me of the ticking of time, and what I have lost. 

And you would just be happy.

And that just didn’t sit right with me darling.

None of it was fair. It’s not your fault that the world is built like this, I know, but believe me, it isn't mine either. 

I pour my tea and sit on the armchair. You're lying on the couch.

When you coldly told me that you would come by to pick up your belongings, do you know what my first thought was? It was that how happy I am to see you. Then, I went down to the factory's laboratory and grabbed a bottle of cyanide. I swear, my hands moved on their own. 

I wanted to kill myself right in front of you. I would have given you my suicide note face to face. You wouldn't have been able to get me to the hospital in time. You would have panicked and held me close to you, and begged me to stay with you while holding my face with your hands. You would have spent your days in remorse, and no one would have been able to heal you.

When evening came, I cleaned the entire house and made it perfect. I dressed up. You arrived two hours later than you said you would. How I’ve missed you. 

And you wouldn’t even look at me. 

When I offered you coffee, you doubted and said yes, halfheartedly. You probably felt indebted. Funny, you didn't even know that I hated coffee.

Then the phone rang.

"Yes, darling?" I heard you say. Your voice. At that moment, I felt something broke inside me. Like something just, shifted and crashed. I don't know if you know that feeling.

You used to love this couch. Now your lips are slightly open, your hair in disarray. You're lying on your hand, it would have gone numb by now. 

Then I remember. 

You finally really looked at me when you were out of breath.

There was a funny expression on your face, like you couldn’t understand what was going on. While you struggled for oxygen, I just stood there and waited. I wasn't scared; after all, I had been judged for every choice I made in my life, and I would continue to be judged. Everything I wore, every man I dated, and every photo I shared.  I thought that I wouldn’t mind a few judges in the criminal court. I didn't say a word to you, I just looked into your eyes and waited. Eventually, you collapsed on the couch, and a few minutes later, your breath hicked and stopped.

So, darling, safe to say I really didn't care that much.

But I can't explain how scared I was that I would mix the coffee cups. Can you imagine? Me, laying lifeless on the floor, and you, taking your things and leaving ever without the tiniest bit of guilt. I swear, it makes me sick to my stomach to think about you, being able to wear the shirts that I ironed for you and just go about your little life. 

I drink my tea and gather my belongings. I put on some lipstick, and wear my best dress. I look bomb, shame you can't see me now. I was going to say goodbye, but, darling, I couldn't bare waking you up. You looked like you could use some sleep.