Finally, the ordeal came to an end. Months of depression, anxiety, sighs, sleepless nights, embarrassments are all over today. We are officially divorced.
I had been waiting eagerly for this day, free and fine. But, freedom comes with a price. Thoughts are hard to shut, memories are difficult to erase. As I make my favorite cappuccino, the initial days come back in a disarranged collage. Meeting her for the first time, her sweet smile, getting engaged, the wedding, and then the dark memories; her denial on the first night, her shock, her frigidity thereafter.
Why did she do this to me? Why me? Had I been a monster to her?
I didn’t know. But now, as I look back, a thought hits me. She had been always a shy, timid girl, right from the day I met her. Even before I knew her favorite food, we were engaged. She had been a friend of a distant relative from my mother’s side. I was a successful banker, eager to settle down in my life. Her cute smile, calm nature, and beautiful voice immediately attracted me, and I decided that she is the one for me.
Did I know her favorite color? Did I know her funniest memories?
No, I did not. I never bothered to ask. I had always been too busy shaping my career, arranging my life according to a certain standard. And when she came into my life, she had been my unique find, a trophy, the prettiest wife in the entire neighborhood. The night she spurned my romantic advances, a part of me was hurt. To be precise, my ego had been hurt. I tried desperately to control her, she remained frigid. I had always been a husband, a control freak; never a friend, never a companion.
My cappuccino stands cold.
A sharp sound brings me back to reality, someone is at the door. Before I could open the door, someone pushes an envelope inside. It seemed to be a note from an anonymous sender, I tear it open and start reading.
It feels very awkward to pen down my thoughts after so many days. I could never gather enough courage to tell you the truth, maybe I was afraid to face your reaction. I could never open up to you. But somewhere I feel that you deserve to know the reality, the truth about my rejection, the truth behind my frigidity.
No, I am not a lesbian, I do not have a heart of stone, as you had mentioned once. I am scared, afraid to feel a man’s touch, afraid to be physically close to a man, again. A 9-year-old girl had been abused brutally by an uncle, she could not protest as it would have tainted the family name. Repeatedly she had been used, abused and scarred for fun, for a sadistic satisfaction. She bore the heat for 2 years, and that left her bruised forever, at heart.
So, I have revealed the truth, the deepest, darkest truth about me. Now, you know me better than ever. I apologize for all those dark nights, for all the pain and suffering that you have been through. You are a good man, it’s just that, I could not be good enough for you.
Wish you luck!