Until I met you

Chapter 01

A breath of relief was escaped from me as I plopped myself on the leather couch by myself, without caring about my half-wet hair and dripping clothes. Mourning clothes, I suppose. But for my own surprise I felt no regret or grief, it was only in my clothes that I showed off the grief, but internally by my heart there was no feelings at all. I was feeling normal. Perhaps I was ignoring those feelings? I don't know. I let my hears focus on the pouring rain outside, which was an alleviation for me right now. Slowly raising my head which was resting on the couch perfectly I looked at the frame that was placed on the coffee table. My husband. No. My late husband.

Aiden, my late husband, the one who made me a widow. Maybe the way we used to live is the reason I don't feel anything for his lose. After all he is my husband. I saw the clear grief and sorrow in his family member's eyes, grieving and weeping for the loss of Aiden. They saw him as a great, wealthy gentleman, which he is not. After living with him for a whole year, I clearly understood what type of a person he was. Indeed, he was wealthy and rich, physically. As a wife I barely got any attention or love from him, but enough blames and complains, which started from the moment he left the house out for work and ends at the time he falls asleep. But I had to bear them all by myself without even telling someone else how horrible I felt, as Aiden prohibited me to have any close touch with a friend.

I guess now I know why on earth I don't feel a single crumb of sadness for his passing away.

Feeling a bit cold I stepped out of the couch and into the bedroom, hoping to have a warm shower. But my eyes fall out for something on the dressing table. It was Aiden's phone.

"I'll throw it out later" murmuring to myself I went in. Undressing myself softly. I felt very light after getting rid of the wet clothes that hugged my body tight and the itchy . The way his family reacted for his loss kept flashbacking in the back of my head as I stared at the white ceiling while my hands just played with the warm water. The way his mom hugged his sister which was two times taller than her, the little woman dramatically wiped away a tear from the end of her eye with a white piece of tissue. A bunch of white lilies was in his sister's hand, the stems were already getting dried out as she was holding it in her hands from the very first moment, I saw her for the day, to the moment. His father who's a very quiet person and had a very pleasant personality unlike the rest was all silent and not a single tear I saw from him. And I was pleased that he wasn't upset. Aiden's father was the only relief I got once I was married to Aiden. He was always friendly and understanding, which made it easy for me to live in his family, if not for him, me and Aiden have been divorced long ago and I won't be attending to his funeral.

Wondering around the walls I met up with the cold mirror. I stepped out of the tub towards it and wiped out the steam so that I could see myself more clearly through the glass.

"How pathetic"

I synced, without letting the words escape. Looking at reflection of myself at the mirror. It wasn't me. It was the puppet that Aiden made, in accordance to fulfill his desires. A girl with a long hair who wears only dresses that showed off her curves, wearing makeup even to the grocery store. Indeed, he was a great man to those type of girls who loved being sponsored for what they like, wearing expensive brands and stuff. I'm not trying to emphasize the fact that he didn't care about me. He did care. But not about me, but how I'd look in front of his friends and bosses. He wanted to show that he had the prettiest wife, which made me feel really uncomfortable and anxious all the time.

I opened the small drawer. And the first thing I saw in it was what I was looking for . Taking out the pair of metal scissors I cut off a strand of my dark hair with no regrets. No regrets at all. I was feeling light as a feather , every time I cut off a strand of hair. I enjoyed looking at my real self for a while. A girl who had a short hair.