His Burden, His Blessing

The Strange Man

I sobbed my heart out, closing the toilet lid and sitting on it.

Why, God? Why me?

How could he be so blatant about it?

From the moment Tanisha walked in, Zeyansh had been staring at her. Even Varun noticed. All he and his wife could do was give me pitying smiles.

He had never looked at me like that. And that hurt.

It hurt because I knew he would never give me that look.

My looks had not changed since college. Back then, though I had insecurities, it had been different. My friends cheered me up, told me I was beautiful, made me feel like a queen, even when I hadn't confessed my doubts.

With Zeyansh, every second felt like a reminder of my flaws. Though he had never said anything before yesterday, I stayed vigilant, waking early, showering meticulously, brushing my teeth, taming my bed hair,m. Living with him felt like living with a king... but he wasn't a king. He was a man who ogled other women's bodies while married, a man who made me feel small.

And he had done it again, today.

I hated it.

I hated him for looking at her like she was a goddess, for smiling at her in ways he never smiled at me. She was beautiful, yes, but so were countless others. Yet none of them had his attention, his lips giving them expressions he denied me.

He forgot me.

Was I really that forgettable?

I had called him so many times, but he had been too mesmerized by Tanisha to notice. Varun and Natasha had seen it too, but they pretended they didn't. It was embarrassing, humiliating, and painfully clear: I was the woman whose husband would never desire her.

He could feel love, feel attraction, but he didn't feel it for me.

I covered my mouth as the sobs grew louder.

The pain was unbearable. For a moment, death seemed almost better.

I laughed at the thought. All my life, I had wanted a husband who would make me feel like a queen, like in the romance novels I obsessed over.

But now I knew, only the beautiful girls got that.

All my life, I had told myself that personality mattered more than looks, that love could bloom regardless. But I had been lying to myself.

When my tears ran dry, I wiped my face, touched up my makeup, and straightened my posture. I couldn't go home to my parents, to my little brother. They didn't need to know. They would be hurt, and I couldn't bear that.

So I went back out, head held high.

Now was the time to show strength. To show that I was unaffected, that I had learned to crown myself.

Who crowned me?

Myself.

"Hi! You're back on time," Natasha said, smiling awkwardly.

I knew she had seen me cry and probably guessed why I had left the room. I felt embarrassed, but I didn't let it show.

I smiled brightly and nodded. She introduced me to a few other women. They chatted and laughed while I listened, smiling along, hiding my inner turmoil.

Varun and Zeyansh had gone off to talk to the dean, who had called the new doctor aside to make her feel welcome.

I could picture Zeyansh now, probably enjoying himself, seeing the woman he had been watching all evening. I smiled sarcastically at the thought.

And Tanisha was enjoying it. Expert doctor from London or not, she was shamelessly charming him.

I couldn't blame her. My husband had sought her out. I could only feel a pang of contempt.

I worried about who I was becoming; a bitter, grumpy woman, silently hating everyone and everything.

Then the music shifted. Couples were invited to dance.

Why couples though? This party was for her.

I watched others approach their spouses. Husbands smiling, wives shyly agreeing. Love, visible in its simplest form. It was beautiful, lighting up the room, igniting warmth in everyone around.

And then I saw him.

Zeyansh, his hands around Tanisha's waist, her hand resting on his neck. She giggled, and he smiled.

The familiar burn returned in my chest. I melted into the shadows, watching my husband laugh and flirt with another woman, giving her the expressions he refused to give me.

I grabbed a soft drink from a waiter and retreated further into the corner, drinking away my misery.

I was the problem. I wasn't good enough.

Then, gradually, the tears stopped, the heartbreak dulled. I felt numb, grateful even. My heart had chosen self-preservation, hibernating from the pain.

Was it permanent? Only time would tell.

I diverted my attention to my phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram.

"It's weird for a married woman to sit all alone while couples dance," a man said, leaning casually against the wall.

I scoffed and laughed under my breath.

"Well, it's not weird if your husband is dancing with the lady of the evening, giving her all his attention," I murmured sarcastically.

He smiled, and I looked up. A handsome man stood before me, sharp features, confident aura.

"I see. Your husband must be a douche to leave you alone like this," he said.

Shit. Had he heard me? I sounded bitter.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean it like that. But you seem to hold a grudge. What did a beauty like her do to you?" I asked, curiosity tinged with irony.

"Well, if you give me a chance to dance with you, I might have the answer," he replied.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I don't know how to dance. Also, why me? There are plenty of beautiful women here."

"First, it's fine. I don't know how to dance either," he whispered, covering one side of his face with his hands. I laughed at his antics.

"And second, I saw you from a distance. I saw your sadness, your heartbreak. I've felt it too. It's miserable, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I just want to help you enjoy this night. Music, food, drinks, you should experience it like your husband is," he said, gesturing toward Zeyansh.

And he was right. Zeyansh was enjoying himself, smiling, laughing, indulging her.

I looked at the man, considering. His sincerity shone through. I didn't mind pity. My situation was pitiful, but that didn't make me weak.

I placed my hand in his.

For tonight, I would let someone else care.

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