Page 36 of Something Old

I can’t help myself.

I have to see his face when he opens it.

I hurry up the stairs, running. I press my body against the wall and peak around the doorframe.

He is sitting on his bed, taking off his shoes. The gift box is next to him on the bed.

I grin.

He’ll definitely open it now.

He slides his shoes under his bed and sits staring at the box for a moment. Then he picks it up. Standing.

“What the fuck did she do this for?” he mutters angrily. My heart sinks. Does he not like the fact that I got him a gift? Why would it upset him?

“She really doesn’t get it.” He murmurs, then walks over to his dresser and pulls the bottom drawer open, tossing the black box into the drawer - unopened. He stands up and kicks the drawer closed.

My heart is in my throat and tears and stabbing the back of my eyes. He turns around and I duck out of the doorway, out of sight.

I hear him carry on getting undressed.

Then I bolt downstairs, needing to get away because I can’t hold back the tears anymore and I don’t need him to hear me crying.

Sitting in the living room with all the lights off - the dark is bringing me a quiet, lonely comfort.

I’m thinking about everything. Everything that happened since I first kissed Mas.

Everything that I misread - misunderstood or made assumptions about.

And basically, I realize, I have made the wrong assumptions about every little moment between us.

He could not have been clearer.

He is one hundred percent not interested in me.

This marriage is for show. Nothing more. And he has zero intention of even trying to let it mean more.

We are not real husband and wife.

I fold my knees against my chest and rest my face against my knees as I cry.

I’m so naïve. I’m so immature. I know nothing about love - and now - I’ll never ever learn about it because I am married to a man who will never love me.

I cry for over an hour. I guess I knew all along. You can be as delusional as you like, but somewhere in the back of your mind, in the bottom of your heart - you know the truth.

I could feel he wasn’t really into me.

I was just wishful.

When I can feel my eyes are too dry to cry anymore and I am too tired to keep them open, I drag myself upstairs to my bedroom.

From now on - I will stop being that annoying, pestering, delusional girl.

I will accept things for what they really are.

The sooner I embrace this the better it will be for both of us.

I lie in bed with a broken heart.

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