The ground was soft, and the small grasses limped as I stepped over it. For a moment, I held my breath… one… two… three… four. I exhaled loudly, feeling the pang of regret and panic ebb through me as I tried to calm myself down. There is no need to look back. No need to look back. Look back. I have to… I need to know.

Finally, I was near the dark side of the park, and I saw her. My wife. My eyes started to swell as I slowly closed in to her lying body. As I knelt beside her, I clenched my fist and felt the blood slide down my hand.

Why did it have to be my wife? 

A few weeks ago, I was happy.  We were happy.  I remember that one morning when I woke up with the smell of fried rice, the aroma of garlic whiffed around the kitchen area. My wife had already prepared my morning breakfast, and a medicine by the dining table.  The kids had already left for school.  That morning, I planned on not going to work.  I was determined to surprise my wife.

My wife, just as the previous days, donned herself. At first, I thought she was remarkable trying to dress up well. But then, the late nights. Then, her refusals for me to pick her up after work. One night, I tried to surprise her by picking her up after work, then I saw her, and I saw you.  You held her hands, so publicly, you might have forgotten she has a husband.  Or, I guess, you knew, but that meant nothing to you. 

What you failed to realize was that I loved my wife.  I love my wife.  I love our kids. Whatever she did may have come from my lack of attention and time towards her. Whatever… negligible mistake… she might have done, I understood her because I love my wife. I cannot begin to fathom living without her. That was when I decided to go to your office.  While she was at work, I planned to talk to you. Ask you to leave her. For our kids. For me. 

Your office was a few blocks from my wife’s.  How have you met her?  Was it at a coffee shop?  A cafeteria?  

When I entered your office, I knew that you knew what I knew.  Hands clenched, I closed the door, and made a punch at you.  You fell to the floor and accepted the punches I gave.  “Stay… away… from… my… wife,” I blurted out in between punches.  I could have killed you, you know, had the guards not arrived. 

I went home and got myself cleaned up, it’s time for the surprise.  I wore my best suit and called the fancy restaurant where we used to date.  My wife was surprised when she saw me, a different kind of surprise, but still, she was surprised. 

While we were dining, I noticed her trembling hand slid something in her purse.  She was fidgety from the time I met her outside her office.  A few glasses of wine, then she calmed down.  We had the best discussion that night.  We talked about our younger years.  When she excused herself for the washroom, my eyes shot through her purse.  It made me curious.  Carefully, I opened it and saw an envelope, neatly folded to fit her small purse.  I carefully unfolded the envelope, and she had already scribbled something on it.  My heart broke when I saw what was written.

“I love him so much, I can’t leave him.  Let’s end this.”

I did not have the time to read what was inside the envelope, but it made me realize that she does not love me.  That it was you whom she loves. 

I thought she was happy.  I thought I still have the time to make amends.  What do you have that I don’t?  I composed myself, I don’t want the night to end that way.  After our dinner, we made our usual routine of walking at the park.  The barely bright light posts guided our path as we walked.  I noticed her clutch at her purse tight several times.  I tried to calm myself and breathe hard.  We stopped in our tracks and I looked at her.

I led her under a tree, far from the prying eyes.  I held her hand, along with the purse she was holding. “I know.”  That was the only thing I said to her, and she cried.  She hugged me tight.  “I’m sorry.” I tried to take in the words that she said.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I’m sorry, too,” and I plunged the restaurant knife I discretely hid in my coat into her back.  “I don’t want you to leave me.  You mean the world to me.”

I looked at the purse she dearly held tight. Is that how significant her letter is?  How important leaving me is that she had to hold it tight even in her last breath.  That is how much she wanted to be with you. 

There has to be no trace of me tonight.  Not even that letter.  I opened her pouch and removed the letter inside. 

“I love him so much, I can’t leave him.  Let’s end this.”  The envelope was bloodied from my hand, but it is still readable.  I unfolded and read what she wrote.  The letter more than stabbed me from different places and bled my heart out. 

“I am sorry.  This relationship has to end.  I know I made the gravest sin, but I can no longer continue whatever this is.  I love him so much.  I love him still and I will confess everything.  I love my husband.”

Original photo “Paring” by JD Hancock is licensed under CC BY 2.0