Inspired by Keane's "Atlantic"
Discliamer: All standard dislclaimers apply.
She should be happy she told herself, but she was not. The war was over and she had married the one she loved but their life wasn't as perfect as many thought. He'd never hurt her, but in a way, he did. She knew that he loved another. The knowledge of it pulled at her heart and so she began to pretend.
She pretended she did not notice when he left her bed at night. She pretended not to see his form creep out of their house in the darkness. She pretended not to hear his mournful cries to the night sky as he vainly implored for his beloved to return. She pretended not to notice. But she did. She continued to pretend though, it was the only way to keep her heart from breaking.
She knew he loved her, just not the in the way he loved, her. For a time, she had futilely hoped that he would forget about her and that she would be the only one in his heart. But she knew it was not to be, when she saw his eyes glaze as his thoughts wandered to memories, she realize her hopes were in vain.
She felt anger at his ignorance, his selfishness, how he never noticed her muffled sobs or tear soaked pillow. But, somehow, she was glad for the anger. It almost made her forget the sorrow that enveloped her heart. The pain she felt from her fingernails digging into her palm almost made her forget the pain of her heart. Almost.
She had always thought she was strong, but even the smallest actions her husband made, made her want to weep.
It was amazing how empty she felt when he left her every night, how alone it made her feel. It reminded her of a saying her grandmother told her when she was young, "An empty house is not a home." She was empty, broken now, grief and heartbreak erasing her once vibrant personality and so their house was not a home. In the silence, as she lay alone in bed, she thought she could hear her heart slowly breaking.
It almost hurt to see him now, he was the one who caused her so much pain. He didn't know though, he couldn't know but sometimes in her bitterness she thought he did. He knew that she loved him but still he loved another. So they were, two people broken by love.
They could have fixed each other, mended the cracks that ran down their hearts but memories and despair separated them. That was the way it remained, and eventually, things became almost…normal. They lived with the pain and heartbreak but they were never truly happy. They lived in a house that was not a home where the moon shone in the darkness.