I’m a 26-year-old, working girl from a liberal family. This is my story of how I met the love of my life and lost him, all because of my foolishness.
He asked me out on the 22nd of December, in 2015. This wasn’t surprising for me, since we’d always had wonderful chemistry. It was a perfect night, there was music in the background and we shared our first kiss. He’s everything that I had dreamed of and that kiss, even more perfect.
I should have said yes. I didn’t.
There are a lot of reasons why: I didn’t want to rush into something with someone who meant so much to me. I was scared we’d ruin our friendship. I didn’t want him to take me for granted. I was scared. And more importantly, we were from two different religions and acceptance from our families for one I knew would be difficult to ever get.
Instead of talking to him about this, I ignored all of it. As time passed, he grew more in love with me. Little did he know, I was too. But still, all that fear. It stopped me from confessing anything.
On the 19th of May in 2016, we made love for the first time. It was beautiful. I knew deep down that I wanted to be his, but yet, I couldn’t find the right words to tell him this. The possibility of us not being together was too high, and I wasn’t ready to go against my family. Now that I think of it, I wish he would have been more persistent, would have seen through my anxiety but I can’t blame him – he truly did everything he could to show me his feelings were true and his love, real.
He even took me to Pondicherry for my birthday, it was the most special way to celebrate. I couldn’t have asked for anything else, for anyone else: I should have fought myself for us.
I knew things wouldn’t stay like this forever. One of us was soon going to have to make a very tough decision. The closer he got to me, the colder I got towards him. I was madly in love with him.
Just like that, one day, he told me that he wanted to get married. And I knew in an instant he wasn’t talking about me. I told him that he should. I didn’t want him to be influenced by anyone, especially not by me. Once again, I was hoping that he would choose me. That he would see beyond this wall of mine and force me to pick him.
But he didn’t.
On the 11th of September in 2016, he picked someone else and was engaged. He said he had finally met his soulmate.
I rushed to him, told him everything that I should have on that perfect night in December. We cried that night. A lot. But that was the last time I saw love for myself in his eyes.
We had the same group of friends, so meeting was always inevitable. From movies, to dinners, even a trip on his birthday, just a month before his marriage.
I still thought that he wouldn’t go ahead with his wedding. I was convinced that he would ask me to run away with him. That he would assure me that we would fight the world, and our families together. But that didn’t happen.
And finally, the month of his wedding had arrived.
We fought a lot during this time. I begged him not to get married. I told him that I loved him more than myself. Tried to convince him that we should be together- no one else. The tables had turned.
The closer I tried to get to him, the colder he got towards me. December 25th 2016, he got married. I lost him forever. I saw him. A week after his marriage. My heart still skipped a beat. I couldn’t stop thinking to myself if his did too.
Twenty days later, we went away for two days. I thought we would go back to how we used to be. But he wasn’t the same man. He was someone's husband now. He was someone else’s man.
He doesn’t know that I’m living in depression ever since he got married. That I’m not the same person anymore, and nor is he. He keeps asking me to come out with our friends, with his wife… to go out for movies, dinners, trips: the way we all used to, but now with her by his side.
I haven’t been able to, and find myself wondering if I ever will be able to.