Has it all been a lie?Mature

I turn the pink paper over in my hands, tears rolling down my face. splashing onto the paper, which i scrunch up in my fist and throw across the room, giving way to great big heaving sobs, escaping my throat. My chest tightening. Did she not truly love me then? She knew the whole time. I think. 'Why?' I cry. Why? So many questions running amok through my head.

'Oh Ella' i sob. If only you had told me, or maybe sent that letter, things could have been so different. Yes I still loved Jen, but not in the way I love you. She hurt me, so bad, and that’s when Ella stepped in. Got me through the early days of pain. Love on the rebound and she didn't love me at all, after all that. 'oh Ella' I cried, my head in my hands.

Jen was my first love, and you don’t truly ever stop loving your first love, no matter what or how it ended. We were young, ‘too young for a love of that kind’ as she so put it that day that she ended it. We'd just finished college, new careers ahead of us, Jen was going places, and i would have only held her back. I wasn’t good enough for her, not then at that time. ‘No matter how much you love someone’ she had said crying, ‘if two people just aren’t going the same way then there is no point‘. She didn’t want the domesticated lifestyle of husband, 2.4 kids, a house, and maybe a family pet. She was a high flyer, wanted the good life, no complications, to be free to come and go as she chose, just as she always did. How she broke my heart.

But I wanted Ella, she taught me to love again, she gave me my heart desires, a family and a home, all the things I craved growing up. And for what to never really love me at all. I feel anger run through my veins as I pick up her photo, displayed on the night stand.

‘How?’ Why?’ I scream at her smiling face, her arms around our three children, ‘group hug’ as she used to call it, laughing.

‘Smile for daddy’ she had shouted, waving at the camera, as I took the picture.

‘arrgh’ I growl and throw the picture in the waste paper bin besides my desk, and stomp around the room, just as the door burst open and my eldest daughter comes flying in.

‘Dad, dad’ She cries, running to me and throwing her arms around my waist, crying into my shirt. Looking every inch the same as her mother, right down to the colour of her hair.

The End

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