Life After You And Me

Sinful Walls

As I step into the beautifully decorated mansion, I feel the suspense in my chest, causing a delay in my breathing.

The grand entrance showcases intricate chandeliers, sparkling with a thousand crystals, casting a mesmerizing glow across the marble floors.

Elaborate tapestries adorn the walls, depicting scenes of opulence and grandeur. The furniture is ornately carved, each piece a work of art in itself.

I can't help the icy chill that creeps up my spine at the sight.

The air feels heavy and still, as if the beauty surrounding me is merely a façade. The vibrant colors of the paintings on the walls seem to dull in the dim lighting, losing their warmth and life.

I wander through the lavishly furnished rooms, each one more grand than the last. Exquisite vases hold delicate flowers, their petals perfectly preserved.

A stunning piano sits in the corner, its keys untouched, as if waiting for a melody that will never be played.

The mansion is filled with antiques and treasures, their value unquestionable, but devoid of any personal touch.

The rooms are meticulously arranged, every item in its designated place, but they lack the warmth and character that make a house a home.

I spent more time in this house than a child should at any house. Yet, not for one moment did I ever feel at home. I was an ornament in a venue famously known to host lavish soirees. A perfect child in a perfect family that lived in a perfect house.

I look up at the living room wall, my heart sinking as I take in the empty space where a beloved picture used to hang.

It's as if a piece of my heart has been torn away, leaving behind a void that echoes with a profound sense of loss.

The image that once occupied this spot was a photograph of our whole family, a snapshot frozen in time, capturing a moment of togetherness. Mom, Dad, Mimi, and I.

Maybe we weren't the most wholesome family and perhaps the image gave a false sense of happiness, but I remember the day that picture was taken.

It was one of the rare good days. Dad was home and mom didn't have to overcompensate for his absence.

Mimi hadn't been chased out and it was all 4 of us. I loved that picture because it reminded me of the better days, when I didn't feel like a prisoner in my own home.

When I looked forward to family dinners, not despised them. Back when I was innocent enough not to realize it was all just a performance.

That mom overcompensated because she didn't feel she had much else going for her. She hosted galas to paint an image of perfection. To make the world envious of an elusion... a lie.

Mimi was braver than I am because she called it out and I just ran away. I hid because I was a coward, I still am.

Mom and Dad called me ungrateful and maybe I am that too. I had everything, right?

I mean I lived in a mansion and I had everything I needed. Food, water, endless travels... a life many would give anything for. And then I had Olli, a paragon of a perfect partner. A man who loved me so much he gave up his dreams for me.