“I just wanna see who she is and how she looks,” a conversation between two friends with a glass of champagne and soft laughter from other guests under the golden chandeliers were making me forget everything, yet I was thinking about us, holding gaze at something I don’t even know, thinking how would you react to this if you were here. You are unaware how I survived after you in a world of assumptions. Every day felt like reliving our conversations all over again, but somehow I slowly began to break free from the painful fantasies about us. However, one fantasy still lingered and never left me alone, which was the desire to tell you how you hurt me, to let out all the emotions I’d bottled up. It wasn’t about seeking revenge or closure; it was about being heard, being seen.
I knew if I get a chance I would remove all my anger on you, but don’t know when it would be, and do I want it or need it? It’s still a puzzle occupying my mind heavily at the moment, giving me a gloomy look in this bright scenery. So, I shook my head and started engaging with my people to stay in the present. Today was the biggest day of my life, and I had spent countless hours preparing for this moment because I was receiving recognition for my film based on my own book about a love story.
As I finalized my speech, I was also busy finding the perfect outfit that aligns with my personality – an outfit that sets the energy of confidence, success, and satisfaction. I was wearing a stunning coral red single-breasted topless blazer suit, complete with a round snake golden chain and simple hoops that were sparkling under the lights. My short, curly hair was styled to perfection, and my bright makeup was adding a radiant glow. The smile on my face was making everyone’s day, and the charm in my eyes was attracting every magnetic personality presented there.
As I stood backstage, I could hear the murmur of the audience, the soft rustle of programs being opened, and the faint scent of perfume in the air, creating an electric vibe. I could sense the anticipation of the audience about my looks as an author who never showed her face before. It was a mysterious moment, and was only 10 minutes before I would take the stage. My heart was already racing with excitement and nervousness at the same time. My staff swarmed around me, offering words of encouragement and compliments that left me blushing.
“This is it,” this is my moment, and I won’t let anyone ruin it, I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath. But in that instant, you appeared, and accidentally dropped a cup of coffee on my suit, ruining every grace of the outfit, the jewelry on my chest, leaving me shocked. The words in my brain shouted, “Are you freaking insane?” That my lips couldn’t say, as I looked up, it was you. The room fell quiet, with everyone’s hands covering their mouths in shock. My team, who had worked tirelessly with me, stood frozen. I felt like I’d been hit with a heavy stone on my heart. The careful planning, preparation – all felt in vain in a split second.
You started apologizing and offered to clean my suit, but the liquid soaked through the fabric and left a dark stain of disappointment. I didn’t know which emotion to show first – that you were finally there or you were just there to show me why you were not supposed to be there. Your continued apology, with a nervous face, was not making anything better. It seemed self-centered, a desire to remove your own guilt rather than acknowledging the pain you had caused me. It was reminding me of our past arguments, where you never took responsibility or asked how I felt. You still didn’t care to ask me how I was doing in this very moment.
But I couldn’t bear it more, so I closed my eyes with furrowed brows and tightened jaw, and thought that I have that moment today where I could hate you the most and get over my pain. I have the chance to stab you with my words, not giving you room to breathe, like panic attacks, because that’s how I felt for months and be free from this painful jail.
So I opened my eyes, conveying the depth of my feelings, but also sensing how scared you were from a terrified look on your face. “Every time I try to miss you with so many good memories, you end up showing me not to,” a dialogue in my head wanted to come out. It’s like my mind wanted to fight, but my heart couldn’t. All I know is a warm tear dropped from my eye, and my voice barely above a whisper said, “It’s okay, no need to apologize,” and moved silently.