Fallacy

I was just at the right place at the right time. I could say that because by the time I looked behind, I caught a glimpse of his shirt. I remember that pretty well. It’s the same shirt I wore when I stay late in his house. It’s the same shirt I wore, after we passionately make love. It’s the same shirt. It is, and its scent still lingers. It is the scent of love, burning passion and fear. I need to be sure.

He was already paces away when I started my own. I was trailing in his shadow. A part of me wants to believe that it’s not him, and another part of me wants to prove it’s not him. Just when I was near, I saw him with her. I don’t know this woman. She was wearing the same color as his. First looked at her and you know she wasn’t up for anything but what I already claimed as my own. She looked at him, flipped her hair, and showed her front that hides within that strapless spaghetti.

Even when she was dress properly, I knew where this is all heading. Before my mind processed everything, my body jumped to the sides and hide. I tried to looked at them and hope they didn't see me. Their eyes showed fear. They were flighty. They looked from side to side as if expecting someone they knew would find them. Before that could happen, they moved. But that wasn’t true, I saw them. I already knew their secret. Not maybe everything, but part of it.

They were at haste now. They took a ride, and he brought him to that very place where he took me. The only sanctuary I considered holy, the one place that only him and me could share. I want to run as quickly as I can. I want to confront them. But I lost my strength. I lost the courage. I lost my right. I feel desperate. I feel sad. What am I? What are we? In the very first place, it was me who succumb to his idea. It was me who said yes. Yes, he could use me. Yes, he could play me all he want and whenever he wanted it. I agreed to all his terms.

But all of those became hazy when I started to feel love. My sanity faded away when I didn't see it as a game anymore. I waited.  Confronting him, I don’t know what I would get. I knew what they did because when he went out that room, I saw he was bathed in sweat. I waited. When we were far enough from that place, I went to face him. I asked him to kiss me. I asked him to make love to me. I was ashamed. I forgot about my dignity. I have completely forgotten about self-preservation. I was stupid. I was in love. I could only think of his yes as a proof that I wasn’t alone in this. If true, I could forgive him for what I saw. I could forget those entire women he could possibly make love with in that same room I considered sacred. But he looked at me, smiled pathetically and left.