A marriage is like a rose; a romantic keepsake having the combination of thorns and petals. The red hue of the petals symbolizes love, and passion and is soft to touch. The thorns that lay on the stem, however, represent adversity and sacrifice.
De...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I let out a wild sneeze that made me drop the papers to the ground.
"Why do I feel that someone is speaking ill of me right now?" I furrowed my eyebrows, mumbling as I picked up the fallen sheets.
"Your wife must be," I looked up to see Ben towering over me. With a nasty smirk etched across his face, he dramatically took a seat in front of me.
I ignored his comment and retained composure, "When is the appointment with the director?"
"I don't blame her, she has the complete right to talk shit about you. But she doesn't look like someone who'll do that though."
I clutched the paper hard enough to crumble the sides of it.
"Don't you have other matters to care for besides butting in my personal life?" I retorted, irritated by his intentional behavior from five consecutive days.
"Sorry?" He leaned closer, raising his lush eyebrows, "Personal life? Since when did you have one-
I stood up, slamming the sheets on the table.
My anger wasn't aimed at Ben, but instead at myself. My pride blinds my judgment over what is right and what is wrong and Ben is doing nothing but shattering it. I have no control over my thoughts and often blame the person who triggers it. Inspite of acknowledging it, I fail to work on it.
"I don't," I bitterly said, "You know I don't." He went quiet. "And I don't need one whatsoever. I'm comfortable with staying in my office for hours, going on long business trips and exploring stuff."
He sat there put. The last thing I wanted was for Ben to go silent on me.
As he buttoned his suit, he said, "We have an appointment in two hours. I've arranged for a chauffeur to take us on a city tour in the meantime."
He resisted frowning but I could sense the way he condemned me in his mind.
"Ben," I called out to him, sighing, "Listen."
He had a puzzled expression and waited for me to say something. I rubbed my forehead and looked up at the ceiling of the plain hotel room, "I'm thinking about her."
I hate what I'm feeling.
It's so weird.
He smiled slightly and nodded, "I knew it." I saw a faint glow in his eyes, and I understood the enormity of his words. Like me, he also had a wife, but he loved her deeply and would never let go of her.
I thought staying apart from her would help me return to my everyday life, but she's already left her essence in it. And that girl is clueless about it, isn't she?
Suddenly remembering, I asked, "Where's my other phone?" I touched my pant pockets to find out they were empty.
