He was standing there in front of me. With a woman in his arm. I heard vaguely that she was his wife. He was talking to someone standing beside me, so close yet too far away. I couldn't utter a word, not even a nod of acknowledgement. I just stared. What was I to do learning that the man whom I had given my heart to was already married, probably even had kids; while I just remained in the same spot since I had met him.
He looked the same. Handsome and well kept. Just as I had always known him. Became the man he dreamed of. Same profession just more famous. A suit, a tie and a watch - impeccable. Unreachable and powerful.
The constant reminder of being alone hurt. Coming back to a house so lonely and unfriendly made me depressed. Yet I had waited for him, to come to me. He didn't even know, did he. The staring, the hesitant gazes, the mundane excuses to talk to him, to gain his attention; all for nothing.
I realised that maybe if I had moved on like my friends had suggested, I wouldn't be in this state. Facing him was difficult than I had imagined. This feeling of being a just a line in his story while he had occupied a whole book in mine was devastating.
The truth hit me deep. I was forever the supporting character in their world. Someone who he had known for a while, then disappeared as if I never existed. I turned back, the voices behind me disappeared and I walked. I don't know for how long I walked but as if God himself knew my predicament, the flowing drops of water came rushing in as if slowly comforting me, trying to tell me this was the end.