A letter to my lover who cheated on me

(As told to Joie Bose)

Dear You,

I admit you had cheated, and you admit that too. And when I call you my Cheater and not my Lover, you know it pains. It shatters the silence between us. And then the silence fills in again. I can’t breathe. Nor can you. And we part our ways…

But don’t you realise that an act however grave it is, can’t burn to ashes a relationship? A relationship can’t die, for it is not bound by physical boundaries. It feeds on love. It breathes on happiness. It thrives on love. And all I want from you is a little more of love for love, a balm. It calms. It soothes the heartaches. It is a warm hug on a winter night.

When I found out that you had cheated on me

Do you remember how I threw a bottle at you when I found out that you had cheated on me? What pained me was that you found warmth in someone else. That I was simmering down and that my fire was not warm enough. I had looked into the mirror. Were my wrinkles too pronounced? Did the bulge on my waist look too disgusting now? Were my muscles not strong enough to bear your weight on me, as we made love? Did the white strands on my hair ask you to slow down as a zebra crossing asks the car?

In your eyes, I see myself like a monarch. Your eyes are the wide sea, and I am Leonardo di Caprio standing on the Titanic of our love, screaming out to the skies, “I am the king of the world…” And when I got to know that I wasn’t the only one, I felt dethroned. I was sore. I couldn’t take the fall. That’s why I threw everything at you. Your words hurt me as that metal bottle hurt your face and the skin split, and blood oozed. That scar will remain on your face. This scar will remain in my heart. But now, can’t you make things OK again?

I miss loving you

I long to call you to love, again. I long to hold you when I sleep. I long for the look of amazement on your face when I wake up and kiss you on your forehead and cheeks. I long to spend minutes kissing your lips. I long for that smell of your body. I long for the meaningless talks we used to have. I too had tried this with another, and it wasn’t the same. It can never be the same, for the other wasn’t yo

I have often imagined falling in love with you again. Why again? I still am, I think. I know I am. You know, what I imagine was you feeling terrible about hurting me and doing things to make up for the hurt. I see you kneeling down in front of the whole world, tears streaming down your face, just asking for forgiveness. And I too cry and accept you into my arms. Into my life.

Do this for me to fall in love again

I want you to repent doing what you did, but I never imagine you knowingly submitting to the other. I blame the other for being malicious enough to entice you. Then you realise that submitting would mean a life without me and that is something you can’t have. I become the Kohinoor in my dreams and daydreams. I imagine you baking me brownies. Or cake. And making tea. Then you and I talk. We talk till night becomes morning. And in your eyes, I metamorphose into a Princess…

It pains me more to call you Cheater than it pains for you to hear it. When can I call you Love again? When can we fall in love again? When can you and I be us again? Don’t you know that’s all I want?

With love,
Me.

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