Betrayal

Like a balloon bursting in my face: betrayal. My heart pounds in my chest against the detailed lace of my dress. Turning heads, their eyes bleed shame. Silence. Waiting in anticipation, wishing my love would redeem himself. Whispers round the room echo in vain. You did this to me. Better late than never, but you're a no show and I'm a spinster. Something I can't live with when I look at you proudly sat on the wedding cake, knowing you've ruined my life. Petals of crystal rose fall from my bouquet one by one, like my love for you.

I thought you loved me. We were the perfect pair, like bread and butter, Romeo and Juliet, bride and groom, but I'm a broken jigsaw now with a missing piece. Can't you understand what you've done to me? Our big day, planned for 8 months just to be wasted. I should've seen this coming, you've always wanted the perfect woman, and I know I was never enough. Why? Because I'll never be the tall, size eight blondes you desire; I'm too normal, too average. But every woman dreams of her big day; everything was perfect apart from you.

Herds of tapping heels run towards me squeezing in my anger, keeping the pain in. I spin with the realisation of what's happening, clenching my throat shut before I scream and let him get the better of me. I am meant to be the new Mrs. Davis, but I've still got the old family name.

_______

My exhausted dress cries from within the wardrobe, demanding to be admired. Hemmed with the grime and blood of the evening's chaos, as well as soaked with flaming tears of disgust. Piles of presents are neatly stacked, more organised than my thoughts. I curl up not ready to face anyone. 30 missed calls and 26 unread messages, none from you. I thought you may be ill or hurt but no, the only one hurt here is me.

What was going through your mind to humiliate me in this way? What man will ever love a jilted woman? Someone who's already been turned away once, what man could love another man's leftover.

_______

My heart stops. It's been almost a month and I see you for the first time, strangely at the checkout joking with the cashier without a care in the world. Do you not feel guilty for what you've done? My feet are glued to the floor and my eyes are glued on you. You've got those silly patterned socks on I got you for your last birthday while loading bottles of alcohol into the trolley, next to a bouquet of flowers. Your left hand is bare when it should've been a sign of your love for me.

I came here to comfort eat away the pain, but all its brought is more pain than before. Seeing your happy face shows you don't always display your true feelings. I was deceived by your ways, but now I see straight through that. The alcohol, you wearing your mates' jumpers and not noticing me staring at you for some time now, tell me that you're not yourself. But maybe it's how you would act without me, being a free man carrying on with your life.

Shooting pains stab straight through me as you glance this way. But your eyes seem to pass straight beside me and smile at another woman, your mother. Her gentle smile and slight wave confirm you weren't looking at me. But how are you not seeing me standing right here in front of you? I try and get your mother's attention by touching her arm, but no response.

Racing home in tears I see flowers outside my house, do they just feel sorry for me? What's going on? You walk up behind me placing the bouquet of flowers by the front door. I try and read the label.

'Dear Delilah,

You were taken from me before you were fully mine, I will always love you and I will join you in heaven but for now, Rest in peace my love xxxx'

It hits me as fast as the car on that misty morning. I was the one that never made it to the altar.