Haunted
"I'm leaving now." Arnold smiled at his wife as he prepared himself to leave the house.
"Don't come back too late," the woman returned a warm smile at him and softly planted a kiss on his cheek, waving him goodbye as he left. Then as she closed the door behind him, she let out a deep sigh.
He is going to see that woman again.
There was not even the need for her to confirm it with him, it was so obvious already. Every single Christmas Eve he would spend it with that woman, and there was nothing she could do about it, no matter how hard she tried. Christmas had always been to her the most important time of the year, and spending every one of these days with the person she loved most was her fondest wish. But he never gave her the chance.
She looked at herself through the mirror hanging on the wall next to the door. Soft ivory skin, flowing raven locks, and a pair of deep but glimmering amethyst eyes; she was not a person who liked to brag, but even she had to admit that this was a rather gorgeous face. And she always thought that this was what captivated him the first time they met, what made him fall in love with her. But now, whenever his emerald eyes focused her, she would remind herself how wrong she was all along. He was only looking at her face, not herself.
It was not like he did not like her. If that was so then why would he even bother marrying her? She knew he deeply cared for her. He would take her out for holidays, tend for her when she was sick, and buy her things that she liked. He would laugh along with her when she was happy, lend her a crying shoulder when she was upset, and give her encouragement when she needed the support. Yes he cared for her a lot.
He just did not love her.
That woman. How she envied that woman. She knew everything about her; he had shared with her every single detail she wanted to know about that woman. She knew her how she looked like; she knew what kind of person she was; she knew even her past with him. How ironic that she could hardly compete with that woman when her husband was not even hiding a thing from her.
She wondered if one day she would finally confront Arnold and force him to make a choice, but she could also tell that she would never have the courage to do that; she loved him too much to risk it. She knew very well that she never had won his heart, but she did not want to loose him altogether. Plus he had warned her so many times already before they got married, she just never listened. And whenever he asked her if she ever regretted making this decision, she would always tell him she did not mind as long as he was willing to be with her, but knowing deep in her heart that her words were far from the truth.
She slowly walked from the front door into the study room, and from the bookshelf she pulled out his favorite book. Or rather, that woman's favorite. She gently flipped the pages until she came to one bookmarked with an old photograph. She took the photo out and had a good look at it. There was her husband, his arms wrapped around that woman; the woman with the same ivory skin, same black hair, and same violet eyes as hers. Even in death, that woman had never left him.
That woman named Natarle Badgiruel.
A/N: Something that just randomly came into my mind. Plus I was sorta in the mood to write something angsty-ish. Er, no, the 'wife' doesn't have a name cuz I couldn't be bothered to give her one.
It's a bit too depressing for even myself, so I might be taking it off later, depending on whether people like it or not.
Reviews please, and thank you!!!