She patted the corner of her eye, dabbed her tears and swallowed her pain. I could feel the emptiness she was hiding. She looked at me as if it was a gentle 'thank you' for my mute presence. She smiled meekly, I prompted that too. Then, she started fiddling with her mobile as I pretended to read. Story of my everyday commute back home - being part of someone's story, sharing a gesture here and there.
But she was an exception. Those big brown eyes pierced inside my soul. Unaware of the effect her presence had on me, she smiled intermittently. It was a fake smile, I could tell. I have seen her real smile. It is far more radiant and earnest. Ajay keeps their photo in his purse. I am waiting for the day either he takes that photo out or I kick him out of my life. Till that happens, three of us will live with a heavy heart and a torn soul.
And here comes her stop, she will walk into her empty bedroom and I will walk into a messed one.
There - she has a story and I too, have one. Albeit, a little different. She is a wife and I am the other woman.
*Image Source - Here
P. S. - Sorry for not replying to your comments and reading your blogs. Life was a little hectic.