Let’s call her Anita. She is a jewellery designer and one evening, over wine she told me about her marriage. And like Americans tend to be when they do decide to open up, she was candid and fiercely honest. She had been married for 16 years when she met her lover.
He had come to pick an anniversary gift for his wife. Ironic, isn’t it? It felt like love, maybe it was. The sunrise seemed prettier, flowers smelt sweeter and I could not wait to wake up in the morning to see if there was a message from him or a voice mail. We were exchanging pictures, sometimes ten a day. He made me feel wanted and beautiful. He appreciated everything about me, my designs, my dressing, my lips… I was hitting the gym with the precision of a clockwork mouse, getting fitter, toned and I loved the person who looked back at me in the mirror. I was in love, not just with him, but myself and life. I was incredibly happy. You know they say that one of the things one should be careful about is flashing their own joy when in a relationship. My stupid grin and I-am-in-heaven stares gave me away.