Coffee with The Other Woman: 3

I smiled and squeezed her hand.

I understand. I remember The Moment.

The moment I knew he had given a part of his heart to another woman, when he came home to me a shell of the man who left my bed in the morning. He was distracted at dinner, his head in the clouds.

And I was too afraid to confront him because I was afraid to lose him.

As the walls of my favorite café began to close in on me, I made a mental note never to bring an old flame's old flame here again.

Like there would be a next time.

"Look at us. We are so pathetic. I don't know about you but I had so many things to say to you until you walked through that door. So many questions. Only now, I don't think you are the one with the answers I need."

She smiles back. Almost genuinely this time. "It was a shock running into you as well, considering the number of times I wished you dead. Now that I know he's not with you, I have a need to ask the questions, not knowing is driving my insane."

I realize I am still holding her hand and I let her go. "What questions?"

"Why did he leave us? You and I, we loved him, adored him. We would have done anything in the world for him. And what did You do better than me? He always came back to you, even when things were great with us. I never understood it."

I completely understand her. Many nights I cried myself to sleep and wondered how she was better than me. I tormented myself with thoughts of her, obsessing about every little detail I could find. But here she was, telling me that I had won, that he never stopped loving me even after I had pushed him away. Any woman would be happy to hear those words. To know that she had a hold on the only man she's ever loved. But I just felt inadequate, incomplete. He could not do without me, but he was never mine. Not completely. The realization pierced my heart.

But today, at least one person in the world understands my pain and confusion. And today, it is enough.

(The End)