Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too?
Just between us, do you remember it all too well too?
Just between us, I remember it all too well.

I found myself seated across from him, his gaze fixed on me, yet I couldn't meet it, choosing instead to lower my eyes. He represented my present, my future, but my mind wandered back to you.

I reminisced about our first kiss, your apology met with my reassurance that I desired it too.

Our journey together had been a whirlwind, a vibrant kaleidoscope of emotions and experiences.

We were once so right for each other. When did the tide turn? Where did we lose our way?

Every word, every touch, every promise echoed in my memory. I was innocent, trusting, while you embodied everything I was warned against.

Yet, I understood you in a way only true soulmates can. I should have foreseen our downfall. Why was I blind to the inevitable?

Forcing myself back to the present, I lifted my gaze to meet his, only to find him smiling as though he'd won a grand prize. Did he not realize he was merely gathering shattered fragments?

His touch steadied my trembling hand, a comforting anchor amidst the surrounding commotion. I could sense the murmurs, the presence of onlookers eager for fodder to fuel their gossip mills. Their well-wishes felt hollow, their gazes sharp enough to cut through us.

Dizziness threatened to overwhelm me; the day's hunger finally caught up with me. I reminded myself firmly: I was married now, bound to another. I was a wife, but not yours. I could never be yours. Swallowing hard, I turned to him, finding solace as he pressed his cheek against my temple. With a deep exhale, I allowed myself to relax, if only for a moment.

As the night drew to a close, the time came to return home with my new husband. Despite his assurances of patience, I trembled with uncertainty. I hadn't fully considered the implications of my actions, hadn't allowed myself to truly contemplate. I was determined not to return to you, to break free from the cycle of heartbreak.

Lying in bed, I felt immobilized, trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. His presence beside me sent shivers down my spine, but not the familiar ones I experienced with you. This man now held a claim over me, a right I had granted him willingly. Taking deep breaths, I felt his arm enveloping me, a gesture of comfort that only added to my confusion. I belonged to you, not him. What was I doing?

"It's okay," his whisper broke through the silence, prompting me to turn and finally meet his gaze. Yet, unlike yours, his eyes remained an enigma to me. Was it love? Lust? Pity? Did I even desire any of it?

As he clasped my hand in his, reassurance laced his words once more. "We are going to be okay." His use of "we" instead of "you" struck a chord within me. He too harbored fears, uncertainties about our future together. He was scared, just as I was, unsure if I could ever love him the way I had loved you. "I still love him..." Had I said that out loud?

As we found ourselves away from prying eyes, I finally allowed my tears to flow freely. Gasping for air amidst sobs, I struggled to come to terms with the reality of what I had just confessed to him on our wedding night – that I still loved you. His embrace tightened around me, his own eyes brimming with emotion, and I felt a sense of dejavu.

Every day became a battle to erase you from my thoughts, to replace memories of you with thoughts of him. I let their warnings against you echo in my mind, convincing myself that you were exactly what they had cautioned me about.

But then came the onslaught of hatred from others, accusations of infidelity hurled my way. "Go kill yourself, you whore," I read on my Facebook feed one fateful day, a message visible to all, including my in-laws.

It was from your new best friend – the same woman who had once pretended to be my confidante. Why had I been so naive to believe her?

When he called me that day, concerned for my well-being, I couldn't find the words to reassure him. How could I, when her words had cut so deeply? Wasn't she right, when I had vowed to be your unwavering partner through every trial and tribulation?

Yet, when you had uttered those words – that we were wrong for each other, that there could be no happy ending for us, that we were only causing each other pain – I believed you. I let pride and fear dictate my actions, fleeing from the love we once shared.

In the midst of my despair, I had reached out to my sister, tears streaming down my face as I confided in her about our tumultuous argument, about how you had lashed out and told me to stay away. Trusting her to keep my vulnerability sacred, I had hoped she would aid me in reconciling with you, in salvaging what remained of our love. But instead, she had intervened, rallying our parents to call off our wedding, plunging me deeper into heartache.

With a heavy heart, I had dialed his number, my voice trembling as I delivered the crushing news – our wedding was canceled, our relationship shattered. I had been a mess, utterly lost.

His response, though, offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos. "Everything happens for a reason," he had said, his words carrying a wisdom I desperately sought. Perhaps, he suggested, I had needed to traverse this tumultuous path with you to rediscover myself.

But as days passed, I found myself drowning in uncertainty, grappling with the hollow emptiness of my identity without you. I had lost myself in the abyss of our broken bond, unsure of who I was beyond the confines of our shared existence.

As I lay nestled in his embrace on our wedding night, thoughts of you consumed my mind. Did the news of my marriage reach you? How were you coping? Would you succumb to the pain, or did someone stand by to offer solace?

Tears flowed freely, unchecked, as I grappled with the weight of my decisions. Yet, he held me with a silent understanding.

In the days that followed, our routine remained unchanged. We navigated family gatherings with practiced smiles during the day, while I sought solace in his arms come nightfall. No words were needed, his unwavering support a beacon of strength amidst my turmoil.

As I lay tangled in the web of my insecurities, I couldn't help but ponder what motivated him to marry me – a fractured soul with little hope of ever being whole again. Did he see something in me that I couldn't recognize myself? Did he harbor expectations that I feared I could never meet? Was it even possible for me to allow myself to love him, to open my heart to the possibility of happiness once more?

The fear gnawed at me relentlessly. What if he eventually realized that I was merely a facade, an illusion of the person he thought I was? What if he regretted his decision to marry me, upon discovering the depths of my flaws? What if he beheld the raw truth of who I was and recoiled in disgust, just as you had? What if I dared to expose my vulnerabilities to him, only to be shattered once more, just as you had shattered me?

The torment of self-loathing consumed me, clouding my ability to fathom how he could possibly love me when I despised the person I had become. How could he extend love to someone who had never given him a reason to, someone who struggled to see any worth within herself?

Yet, amidst my internal turmoil, a darker fear loomed large – did his love for me stem from some twisted flaw within him, as you once insinuated? Were his affections a manifestation of something perverse, as you had suggested, or was it merely another ploy by you to manipulate my perception of reality, to convince me that I was undeserving of love from anyone but you?

In the tumult of emotions swirling within me, why is it that I find myself clinging to memories of your embrace, your whispered declarations of eternal devotion? Why do I replay in my mind the moment you claimed me as yours, even as you took my innocence, blurring the lines between love and possession? And why, amidst the shattered promises and broken trust, do I still hold onto the fragments of hope we once shared?

Between his perceived perfection and your undeniable flaws, why do I struggle to reconcile the stark contrast, finding solace in the familiarity of your touch, even as it left scars upon my soul? Why do I cling to the echoes of our past, rewriting the narrative to omit the pain and betrayal, focusing instead on the fleeting moments of ecstasy and passion?

Perhaps it's the intoxicating allure of nostalgia, the yearning for a time when love seemed limitless and unbreakable.

Maybe it's okay to have loved both you and him, to hold onto cherished memories of you while forging a new path forward with him. Maybe it's about embracing the beauty of each chapter in our lives, recognizing that our capacity to love is boundless and not confined to just one person or moment in time. It's about granting ourselves permission to find happiness, even amidst the echoes of past heartaches.

And most importantly, maybe it's about acknowledging that it's not only okay, but essential, to move forward and discover love after love, embracing the journey of self-discovery and growth along the way.