"It'll be alright."
I don't know if I say that to reassure others or myself.
It'll be alright.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
My bare feet glide along the smooth marble as I make my way downstairs. As usual, the estate was silent and had an abandoned feel to it. The pristine white walls were adorned with large, prestigious portraits of the family's forefathers. My father claims that I have no ambition of passing on the family name or following in their footsteps to become a "highly respected person".
On that, I agree with my father.
But my future was inevitable. My father made sure I understood that very clearly. He did, after all, arrange a marriage with one of his colleague's daughters with a fine pedigree, but I had rejected.
I had told him I loved someone else, and I'd never forget the look of disgust and disappointment on his face. He didn't care about me or what I wanted, he was more concerned about our family's reputation than his son. We'd made a deal that I'd take on the family business, and in return, I get to maintain a relationship with anyone I loved.
Yes, my own father was revolted by the thought that people might find out whom I loved.
I enter the living room, making my presence known to the woman sitting on the loveseat by a simple "good morning." She was lost in her book, feet curled up and gazing intensely at the paperwork. Either Savannah didn't notice me or she didn't want to acknowledge me, because she gave no sign that she had heard me.
I sit next to her and watch her silently with her head low, luscious curls falling graciously below her shoulders as she focused on her work. I love the way her face scrunches up every time she thinks hard. She was much older and wiser, but I love how she still looks at me for assurance of her answer being correct.
I give her a smile and a nod because I want to see her happy. The cute smug look on her face is all I need. And in that moment, I want to tell her she'll always be my first choice. Even though I'm not hers. She was the only thing that kept me from falling apart.
But then why did it hurt so much?
Why did she have to hurt me so much?
As I watch her tolerate me, a thought crept into my over-thinking mind. I've always dismissed the fact that my love was never reciprocated. She did love me, though she never implied it. But sometimes I wonder if she was manipulating me, my empathy, and my feelings. Sometimes...
Did she think I was a waste of time and space? Did I waste the past two years loving someone who I knew would tolerate my blind love instead of celebrating it?
I made her my number one priority, my temple, my mural, and my muse. And all I ask for was a little appreciation for my whole heart I had gifted her. For all I know, Savannah couldn't have cared less for someone who loved her more than anything, idolised her, and put her above everyone else.
Gosh, what was I thinking?
I stare at her proudly as she pores over the new essay for her lecture. I never understood why she chose teaching as a career, but alas, women were complicated, and so was she. It was as though she was an open book written in cryptic language.
I sit and watch her work. I notice every little thing she does, exhaling heavily through her nose, running her hands through her hair. I notice even the things she doesn't do.
Her gaze meets mine and I see the tiredness in them.
"You should rest," I say, smiling, as I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. I couldn't tell if I was imagining it, but for a moment, I saw her flinch when I touched her. But it happened all so fast. I passed that for my excessive imagination and decided I was overthinking again.
She gives me a small smile before heading upstairs. I sit there for a few minutes even after she left, pondering over small things. I smile, a small sad smile, hoping it would all be okay someday.
That day will come soon. I hope. But for now, I have to pretend like I am oblivious to what she's been doing behind my back. Because it hurts. Because she hurts me and I still love her.
