Today, I read a story on my favourite couple, an angst one. The male lead had to leave in the middle of a burning love to go back home and marry someone else, not his lover, the female lead. Years later, they reunited with a child born from the male lead and the divorced/ passed away wife. A bittersweet happy ending, right? A family of three, made from shattered glassed, glued back with bonds from golden love.
But as I envisaged that plot on myself and that person, I immediately suffocated.
I felt withering the moment I think of that person, saying he loves me just to take another hand and vows his life to her. Not me. Knowing he loves me, but forced to bind his marriage with someone else. That mere thought can twist my heart out of my chest, then drain all my blood and love to the ground.
I felt unalive the very next breath.
But I can at least go by, numbingly. I can still live on, knowing that the foolish hope and love ended. Knowing that there would be someone waiting, loving, taking care of him, so I would be able to lock my heart away, content with a life ahead, without thinking back.
But what if, he came back to me, with a child tucked by his side, asking for my hands in marriage, once again to fulfill the broken promise?
I would be happy for just a moment. Just to turn him down and run away. Because, the wounds are now opened and bleed, and it hurts.
I can not withstand seeing the child of that marriage. The result of love or not, that proof kills me. I can not live the pain of thinking that he, once whispering me my love, yet committed that very same act to someone else. Deeming me possessive, I admit. But I am a courage. The split second I see the traits of him and her on that child, all the thought rushing through my head was the same voice of "It could have been mine."
"Why not me?"
I hold no contempt to the child, nor him, nor her. Just resenting my heart, my mind and myself, because I am no saint. I am just a merely human, shivering at the sight of promise broken, time drifted, vows lost, and love drained.
I would love to hug that child, or him. But I lack the power to stay by their sides the years to come. Because I merely am a human, with wounded heart and damaged soul. I dare not to think that I have the strength, or the mentality to rekindle with both of them, to make a new family. Because I lack the experience to have a loving family of my own. And I lack the capability of birthing a child.
If he and I adopt a child of no blood relation, it pose no hurt. Yet, a child, of him and her, in a rightful marriage, could kill me right away.
Because I was not his bride. I could not be his wife. Or that child's mother.
I feel like I was the outsider, looking at a happy story of someone else, even though he promised me his love and marriage already.
I feel so shameful, feeling like a home-wrecker.
So, if I were the female lead, the story would never be published.
No one wants to see the female lead, hugging the male lead and the child, saying that she would like to love them, cherish them and support them all her life. But she could not, because she was already dead the day he vowed his hands in marriage to someone else.
And then, she would leave, quietly and quickly.
The end? She would be at the sea cliff where he showed her once before, in the days they were rightful lovers.
"I am taking back my love."
Drown herself into the ocean and never come up for air.