Summary: When you said "Till Death Do Us Part" and I believed...I hadn't realized I was waiting for the wrong death.
Note: Hellooo...this is my first time posting a story here. This is a one-shot, so no next chapters or so. It's my first ever original that actually got finished, probably coz it's short and a one-shot.
I hope you like it!--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I knew something was wrong when I opened the door.
I felt it deep in my bones.
I quietly entered and closed the front door.
We were done.
The ring on my fourth finger felt heavy, it was pulling my hand down. It stung.
I walked slowly to the bedroom, knowing what was coming but I wanted to make sure and I wanted to hope that I was wrong. That what I was feeling was nothing.
But it wasn’t.
You were gone.
I stopped at the wooden table that we usually kept near the bedroom door for our mail. Only one thing lay on top of it.
A solitary brown envelop, large enough to fit a few pages of short bond papers. I cautiously picked it up and opened the flap. I pulled out the first papers I held. One word glared at me, it was enough and I stuffed them roughly back inside, haphazardly separating it from myself. I felt something crack.
My hand clutched the doorknob tighter as I stared at our bedroom. It lacked something. My gaze traveled around the room, stopping at the empty bed and the empty drawer left open. I blinked when I felt a burning sensation behind my eyes.
Another crack.
I entered our bedroom, running my fingers lightly across the bed, the tops of the bedside tables and the wall while I made my way towards the closet. I looked inside; half its previous contents were missing.
Crack.
I continued to the bathroom door, opened it and peered inside. It was dark. I reached for the flip on the wall and turned the lights on. It flickered before lighting the whole bathroom. The white tiles and walls gleamed back as light reached them.
I saw my toothbrush on the cup by the sink; it looked so alone by itself. The pink towel you bought for our first marriage anniversary was missing its blue counterpart.
Crack.
I went to the sink and opened the medicine cabinet above it. Your shaving cream, shaver and little tablets were gone.
Crack.
I rushed out to the bed, palms pressed to your side. It was cold, like you never slept here.
Crack.
I reached to little table beside the bed, my hand landing on the picture frame. It was facing down like you didn’t want to see us together anymore.
Crack.
I choked back a sob, it lodged in my throat making it difficult to breathe.
Crack.
I leaned down on your pillow, face buried into it. And I could catch it, just a hint but it was there and I could smell it. Your scent was still on the pillow. I inhaled it deeply.
I felt something cold when I slipped my hand under the pillow. I pulled away and moved the pillow.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The almost identical ring on my finger stared mockingly at me; the two-toned wedding ring standing out against the white bedspread.
Whatever was cracking shattered. I covered the ring with my hand. My husband’s ring.
Ex-husband, something reminded me. He’s divorcing you.
I inhaled sharply.
I stood up and went to my side of the bed, to my side table. I opened the bottom drawer and ruffled through the contents. At the very back I found what I was looking for. It was a velvet box, dark indigo in color. The inside was red silk lined with gold. I placed it on top of the table. I took off my ring and placed it on the silk, its pair—my husband’s ring—placed slightly on top of it. I examined it a foot away.
It was the same way we first saw our wedding rings.
I sat on the bed—box in my hand— dazed, tears trickling down my face quietly. I wasn’t sobbing but my eyes leaked continuously as memories of us whizzed passed, like I was watching some movie.
One memory ingrained itself.
It was after the wedding, just right after the priest said that you could kiss the bride. We were still at the altar, everyone still cheering for our union.
“Only death can separate us, love.” You had softly whispered in my ear. And I still remembered how wonderful I felt that time. We were going to be together until we were old and gray. But I was being silly. You hadn’t specified it. You only said that death was the only thing to separate us. I was thinking of the wrong kind of death.
“…Until death do us part.” I whispered sadly, I tasted the salty tears that made its way to my mouth.
And death happened.
Your love for me died.
“Until death do us part…”… “Only death can separate us, love.”
It echoed loudly in my head, mocking me.
Death parted us.
I closed the velvet box. Somehow that proved our severed bonds more than the divorce papers you left for me.
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There we go! Any comments?
