He stopped by again unannounced as he had previously done over the past years.
“Hey. Why?” She asked him. “You’re getting married this weekend. You promised me you wouldn’t come again.”
“I just wanted another night with you,” he blurted out. I came to get you. Let’s go to The Beach Point.
“For the last time?” she asked
“I don’t know – can’t bet my life on that,” he winked as he replied.
She gave him a kiss, “I’ll be right back.” She ran inside like a 6-year old being invited to her favorite candy shop. She hurriedly changed into one of his favorite dress; a soft pink V-necked that clung unto her soft skin. He actually bought it for her from one of his company trips.
They had met by chance at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Both showed up solo to the party and they had clicked from the onset. But … they both belonged to someone else. Suddenly, her steady boyfriend broke up with her. He visited to “console” her, telling her the ex must be a jerk to leave her. One visit led to another and soon they became inseparable.
The Beach Point had been their tryst. They met there at 5:30 p.m. everyday after work for the past three years. Some weekends, too. Regulars at The Point knew them as the beautiful power couple. Unknown to them that they both belonged to someone else and he’s getting ready to marry in a few days.
She stepped out looking gorgeous from head-to-toe. She could pass for a model, but she wasn’t. She worked as the PRO (Public Relations Officer) for one of the large and top City Banks. He was the General Manager at an international oil company.
He jumped up and swept her off her feet kissing and caressing her all over unable to control himself.
“I love you. Wished I found you first.”
She put her index finger to his lips. “Stop. You don’t. You should be marrying me instead.”
Three hours later, they were wrapped together on the living room couch watching Kevin Costner’s The Bodyguard.
They stared at each other unable to let go.
“Do you still want to go?” he finally asked.
She said, “yes.”
She straightened down her dress, padded the loose powder on her face, applied her irresistable matte brown lipstick, and slipped on her brown stilettos.
The Beach Point was packed; couples dancing, some busy chatting, while some ate staring into each other’s eyes. They walked in to the music of “Secret Lovers” by Atlantic Starr. He gently pulled her to the dance floor. They were glued together on the floor. She had tears in her eyes. Suddenly, the tears gushed uncontrollably down her face. He felt the warmth of her tears on his shirt as she sobbed uncontrollably. He gently swirled her around and, with his right strong arm by her waist, he whispered something into the ears of the DJ. Secret Lovers sang all night.
Was that his request to the DJ, she wondered.
Time to go home. It was 2:00 A.M. The night flew into the mornings pretty fast. It was getting chilly, too, for a summer morning. Where had he been? All the sobbing left foundation and lipstick stains on his Armani shirt. What would he tell his fiancée?
They drove silently back to her apartment. He walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye. She gently opened the door and, without looking back, stepped in and closed the door. She slumped onto the couch and cried herself to sleep.
She took a trip to Paris for that weekend of his wedding. And guess what? She was the first person he called after tying the knot! “I’m coming to Paris on Tuesday, he softly told her over the phone. I’ll see you soon. He hung up before she could say anything to stop him.
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t two loving people be together? Why does he have to end up with her out of pity? What kind of marriage would that be? And how long will this continue for? Are we being selfish and inconsiderate?
So many questions, but no answers.
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