He loved her once, I know, and I know that despite our relationship, a part of him still loves her. He must, for he made love to her, married her; made her his queen. And so there must be some remnant, some lingering part of his heart that loves her just as much as the whole once had.
I never thought that I would be the other woman in a relationship. In fact, for most of my life I shunned those women who were, looked down on them, regarded them as tramps and whores. Women such as that were treated harshly in my tribe, beaten and cast out on occasion. Most often though, they were forced to deal with sharp whispers and the deprivation of human affection for the remainder of their lives. A fitting punishment, I had always thought. But then…then I became one of them.
I had never intended to begin an affair. It had started out so innocent… we were friends; he had saved my life and I his. We became each other's confidants; I knew more about him than even his wife did. He shared things with me that he was unable to share with others, and I with him. Oftentimes, we would meet out in the garden, and talk until the sun had just begun to rise.
And then, somewhere down the line, our friendship morphed into something much greater, something more intricate and complex. I often felt guilty for no reason, back in those early days before the feelings had obtained a name. I was often confused, my stomach clenching, my heart pounding roughly in my chest. And then…one day…I understood. The confusion, the guilt, the sudden complexity of our relationship…it all stemmed from one fierce, strong emotion: love.
I loved him, more than I had ever loved anyone in my life. I loved him despite propriety's demands of the contrary, despite the guilt and anguish that twisted in my gut. I loved him despite all that he had done to me…despite the fact that I knew he had a wife. And it didn't horrify me nearly as much as it should have.
At first, I tried to push my feelings…our feelings…away. I attempted to stop our night time talks, tried to treat him warmly, and yet without attachment. But it was impossible. Neither of us wanted what we had to end before it had a chance to begin, neither of us was willing to abandon the path that our hearts were setting before us. Both of us wanted to love each other, despite the fact that we knew we shouldn't.
He promised me that he was leaving his wife, that she didn't make him happy, that he wasn't really in love with her. And I cling to those promises, in spite of myself. I long for and dread the day that he will set Mai aside in equal measure. I realize that I have become one of those women that I had shunned not so long ago, but I cannot bring myself to care enough to stop myself from traveling down this path that I have started on.
And although I know that a part of him still loves her, that a part of him always will, and that there is a good chance that one day he will hurt me as much as he will surely hurt her… I will still love him. My heart has decided; to love and lose is the only choice I have now. And I have made that decision gladly.
