They met often. Often enough to keep the pretence of 'love' alive in each other. And when they did, her eyes would beam with an unmatched joy. His had guilt. She wanted him to look at Her, feel Her breath against His chest, feel the fear she had nurtured ever since the tight of their hands loosened. He couldn't. She knew that she had come close to losing Him. "Why?" was a question that haunted her. Hoping to have a part of him back, She decided to sell her soul. His had already been sold...
... She spent nights, crying. Her eyes, filled with tears, mourned the loss of self that she felt. He loved this lowness in her. Curled in her mother's arms, she lied about Him, lied about the happiness that the mother had seen in her eyes long back. He learned to live with the lies and the denial.
Pain was an obscenity they began to enjoy. He, in the satisfaction, that She was deprived of his love. She, in her aspiration to become what she had been to him once. Out of love, they preyed on each other. Hurt was not an emotion they felt any longer. The monstrosity in their minds had benumbed them. They were lifeless but performed the act of togetherness to perfection . In this lifelessness, they lived or pretended to live unhappily ever after.
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