You Were Never Mine

Many would be shocked, astounded even, that a leading business woman was attending a wedding – of a soccer player nonetheless. He had no tie to her past, no bad blood, nothing that the media or press could recover.  It was only later that the public realized that there was no history between the two of them. None that was recorded anyways.

Chemistry is not outlawed – it’s a subject in school for those who wish to pick apart hairs. Ever since middle school we’re taught that chemical bonds are hard to break. So, taken out of context, it would mean that we should follow chemistry when we see it. That’s definitely not how the marital world works – at least not legally.

Maybe that’s why she showed up on his doorstep. She wasn’t wearing anything extravagant – a simple pantsuit with a couple stray hairs here and there. He’d opened the door in his sweatpants and undershirt, and let the woman in. The cameras devoured the evidence and attempted to raise a scandal mere hours before the wedding – waiting for the fiancee to call it off.

The business woman knew that he would let her in, he always had – whenever she had run to him in the past. Be it a broken heart, a failed test, a flunked interview, or out of pure joy. She would always return to him. They had tried, yes, the romantic approach to the world. Sadly, the duo never felt that they could stand up to world. Their romance fell apart with the autumn leaves – they were a summer fling.

Flung away.

Regardless of their tumultuous past, they stayed.

In college, he was the type who would wake up earlier than her. Make just enough coffee for the two of them, and set the pancake batter next to the pan – having already made some for himself. He would stand for hours in front of the mirror – sure of what he was wearing. He despised being rushed. Yet, he would always prod her awake two minutes before they had to leave.

In college, when they had been suite mates, she was the one who would be snoring away till he poked her. She’d rush through her morning routine of make-up, moisturiser, and dressing. She had never spend more than two minutes in front of the mirror – and that too it was only so she looked presentable. Later on, her routine would adapt to her lifestyle. But, she still loved his pancakes.

When being hit in the face with real life, they had taken to the professions they thought they were best suited for. Her, economics. Him, soccer. Three years after graduation he thought he had met the one for him. So he’d called his old friend. He wanted her approval first. Having received it, he was allowed to proceed. There were things he could never tell her. Always wanted to though.

What if? It was a dangerous question and the woman wasn’t quite sure she wanted the answer. What if the odds weren’t stacked against them? What if she’d paid more attention? What if he was still her’s? These were things she wouldn’t dare voice. So she pushed them out of her mind and smiled – as if nothing had happened.

The wedding was simple and small – with little accents of lilies here and there. The business woman had always favored them. However, the presence of the cameras forced tight-lipped smiles on everyone. They were soon banished from the premises. One would think that everything would become easier after that. Au contraire, the vows were accompanied with the suffocating silence that hung between the declarations of love.

He had smiled. He had said: I do. But in his mind, forbidden thoughts had whispered: but not to you. 

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