Ragdoll

I am still in disbelief. It was like everything was all part of an unwanted dream that I wish I could simply wake up at and shake everything off my mind. I still couldn’t believe that I am finally divorced from him, proof of that was securely inside my handbag. I am here to bring him the final paper and to take home Michelle.

As I stand here in front of the mansion, looking at the extravagant fortress that I once thought was home, everything comes back to life. Every pain and guilt I had to bear daily, every cry that I silently hid, every sleepless night of wandering and thinking, that only the massive interior bore witness off. All the cold memories from my six years of living here all flooded back in me like angry tides during a stormy night. 

Feeling regretful as I walked inside, I heard my daughter’s voice. Her little, but obviously demanding voice asks something that I’ve already heard several times before.

“Why can’t all of us be in one place, Dad? Why can’t Mom live here with you, so I don't have to switch places every now and then?” 

“You are too young to understand everything, princess.”

“I’m almost turning seven months from now, Daddy. I am not little anymore.”

A smile appeared from the corners of my lips as I listened to her reasoning. Conversing with Michelle was like dealing with an adult. She was far ahead from her year and was smarter than normal children of her age. 

“Sometimes things happen because it was destined to happen. There is nothing we could do about it, but to accept it and go on with our lives” He explained with gentleness and patience, laced with unadulterated love, obviously choosing those perfect words for our daughter to understand. 

Gentleness, patience and love. 

Something that he never did to me ever. Something that was deprived from me for the past years that I was with him. He was always cold towards me during our six years of marriage. Always void and flat of any emotions, none at all. It was as if I was the dark cloud that glooms over him every single day. I didn’t remember hearing him speaking to me with that same amount of affection and diligence as to how he spoke now with her. 

“Don’t you love her anymore, Daddy? Don’t you even care for Mommy and her welfare?” 

I tightly gripped the strap of my handbag at her heartfelt question, waiting in anticipation for what he was about to answer. There’s still a part of me that hopes for a miracle, for some compassion in him towards me. Hope that somehow he did love me back, one way or another. 

But I already knew his answer. Since day one, I already knew what his reply would be if asked about it. Everyone, except our daughter, knew what the answer was. The reality that was shoveled into my face since day one. The truth that I blindly disregarded over the years.

The truth is he doesn’t love me. He never had and he never will. There will never be a time where I think he would go to such an extent. But even already knowing about it as he had planted the truth in me years ago, I still wanted to hear what his response would be to her. 

“I loved her for giving me you. I loved her for bringing you into this world. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are worth every sacrifice I’ve made, princess. You are the only beacon of light I had during the darkest days of my life. I love you, Michelle, always remember that. Daddy loves you so much. Whatever your Mom and I are going through right now, my love for you will never cease” He finally says after sighing in defeat.

I shut my eyes close as the rush of pain filled me all over again. It still hurts, it still does. I thought it wouldn’t anymore after months of separation, but I was wrong, completely damn wrong. After all this time, it still hurts and it still breaks my heart into a thousand agonizing pieces. I placed a hand on my chest and gently rubbed it to somehow ease the pain, but as usual, it didn’t. 

He never told me those three magical words. He never did, not during the time we got married and not even when I gave birth to our precious little angel. He held himself back during the duration of our marriage. He reserved himself sacredly for someone whom I will never stand a chance to compete with. For six years, he never considered me as his wife. I am just someone who bore a child for him, nothing more, nothing less.

Our marriage was a mistake. Everything about us was a mistake right from the very beginning. I knew about this all along, but still pushed through it, all because of my deep love for him. I had a chance to be with the man of my dreams and I didn’t let it pass. I embraced the opportunity as if my life depended on it, even though I knew that it would create a huge commotion and would change everything around me forever.

We were never a couple during our marriage. It was always him, me and the woman who stole his heart away. He kept her living inside his heart for six long years. He treasured that woman like a rare piece of stone, something that only he possessed and completely took me out of the picture.

I did my very best and gave my all. Everything I could give and all that I could share just for him to see how much I loved him. I was expecting some kind of affections that would backfire on me, even a little, but I gained none. All he gave back was heartaches, pain and sufferings, and it was all because of her. 

It took me a while to finally realize it, to finally see everything that I was only the one who worked hard for our marriage to work out. It took me six long agonizing years before I finally quit, threw the white flag of defeat and gave up fighting. 

I would never be her in his life. I would never be the woman he had put on the pedestal. For him, I was nothing compared to her. He was totally hooked up with her memories that he didn’t give me a chance to even be a shadow of her. 

I washed the beads of tears away and breathed. Composing myself, patching up my badly wounded heart, and summoning all that was left inside of me before walking inside with an awkward smile. 

“Hi there.”