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Fading Romance

Vartann could taste the bittersweet ghost of the red wine lingering in his mouth as he glanced in the mirror straightening out his shirt. He felt good. He'd been waiting for his evening all week. He'd been running through the details in his head all day- it was going to be perfect.

He reread the recipe book he had open on the kitchen counter as he glanced nervously the simmer pots and pans. He had followed the instruction down to a t but still there was the fear that this would all go wrong and the evening he had planned would be ruined. He found that to his surprise the food had turned out well when he took small tastes from the pans. Vartann moved from the kitchen to the living room hoping that his attempt at decorating the rather plane house had worked.

He sat on the sofa where he had not long ago made love to her friend he would glance out of the window at the sound of car engines, and then back to the ticking hands of the clock with anticipation to see her.

She'd said she would be there an hour ago.

He could feel his heart sink and realisation slowly sunk in that she was probably not going to come. Today was supposed to be the night he proved to her that they were good together. And that they would be even better if she would just give him a chance and let him in. It was then that his phone buzzed informing him of a new message that confirmed his original fear. "Sorry- busy won't be able to make it- C" was what the screen read.

Vartann glanced around at his waste efforts. Candles lit the room with a warm glow and filled it with the smell of vanilla, on the dining table a single red rose in a crystal vase, pictures of Roman streets on the walls. The sound of Liszt's Nocturne No. 3 in A Flat Major lingered in the air as he sat silently attempting to figure out how he felt.

This had not been the first time. She had brushed him off on many other occasions with nothing but a text. He could imagine her wherever she was facing the conflict of whether she should call him or not eventually coming to the conclusion that she did not want to hear the hurt in his voice when he lied and told her it was fine. When he pretended that it hadn't been a special evening that he had spent that whole week planning.

Vartann could feel a brand new wave of depression dragging him under. He had been so optimistic about the small amount of progress he had seen in their relationship but there they were back to square one. She didn't want his companionship- she had made that more than clear. The more he tried to unravel her, the more he attempted to figure out what she wanted the less clarity there was.

He thought about the woman he had been using to make him forget her- a woman so different to her. She was dependable. She would always be there- the same bar, the same time, the same drink every time they would let themselves indulge in weakness. He had often wondered why she never turned him away when he would go and find her. But he had never been able to bring himself to ask. They hardly ever spoke- a problem he had recognised in his real relationship. However he recalled the other night however, as she'd dressed herself, she'd started talking to him not meeting his eye out of indignity and guilt.

"I don't think I love him anymore."

She had said. The words had sounded emotionless, monotone as if she had detached herself from what she had been saying. As if she didn't want to recognise what she knew. She'd paused for a moment and glanced down at her wedding ring on her left hand and then turned to him with a look of helplessness.

"I think I love her too much."

He'd responded placing his problem in the same format as she had. Her dark eyes had lost their usual gleam- she looked exhausted. She turned away from him without a word after a few moments he'd heard the front door slamming shut and the sound of an engine starting up.

He thought of the increasing amount of sorrow in their sex. He thought of how they had both tried to make it last longer just so they could cling on to the escape they had created rather than facing the problems that had plagued their other relationships.

With the feeling of disappointment he picked himself up off the sofa. He blew out the candles and put the music off before heading out of the door- he'd decided that he was not going let his unresponsive girlfriend get to him that night.

The bar pulled him in like arms, the scent of beer wrapping around him like warmth. He sat himself down at the bar calling a bar maid over with the intention of getting drunk that night. As he glanced around the bar something caught his eye. Someone, rather.

She was sitting on a bar stool not far away from him. Her blonde her titled back her laugh echoing throughout the room while a man he did not recognised whispered into her ear. Her low cut dress clung to her curves, her lips covered in a glossy paint.

He could feel all of his emotions bubble up from where they had been dormant- the jealousy, the anger, the hate- as he watched the woman he cared so much for sitting that close to someone else. She was talking to the other man in the same hushed tones she would use with him. Her eyes had the same glint they had when they were together.

As he sat and watched them he wondered how someone he loved so much could hurt him the way she did.