I remember the exact moment I fell out of love. Squeezed by the day, I had come home and had cooked dinner-his favourite pasta. Huh, I always wanted to please him.
He gobbled up the food. Some monosyllables as conversation, a few grunts as answers. I was getting used to the silence. It was more of a companion than him. Love had been seeping out slowly anyway.
I had had no time to freshen up. He looked at me and said, “You look unkempt and ugly.”
Not because he had called me ugly. But for I knew, he had said that out of spite.
How can we love a person who chooses to spew hurt instead of kindness. How can I love a person who sees not why I am unkempt, but chooses to remind me that I am.
At that moment, pasta hanging from the fork, halfway to my mouth, I froze.
I could feel the little love draining out of me.
Can you feel empty inside, yet cleansed? I did. In that tiny turn in time, I knew that love had died but I felt at peace.
Today, I am tired. I am cooking dinner. My favourite curry. I pass the mirror in the hall and look at myself.
I am unkempt. I am beautiful.