Four| Broken Hearts

                                        

                                              

                                

                                    
                                
                                  
                                      
                                  
                                  
                                    
                                      
                                      
                                    
                                  
                                 
                                
                                
                              
                              
"Who broke your heart?" I ask. Was she in love? Is that the reason for her aversion to touch? She shakes her head and asks me a question instead. "Who broke yours?" 
A beautiful girl with a poisoned heart. "Do you think love forgives all?" I ask instead. She leans against the bridge rails, looking up at the sky with teary eyes. 
Inayat is beautiful. I've seen many women but none like her. When I was in love with Joëlle, I believed there wasn't a woman prettier than her. But I would've been wrong. 
Inayat has the otherworldly beauty. Even if my extended family consists of pompous arses who are racist to a fault and were skeptical of my wife's non existent background, they all said she is stunning. 
I wish she had some life behind those light brown eyes of hers. It would've made her human too. I hear her laugh, but it isn't the happy kind. This one is painful. I haven't felt pain in a while but her hollow laugh makes my chest ache. 
"No." She says as a tear falls down her eye. "I do not know what true love is but somethings can just never be forgiven." I agree with her. Somethings just aren't worthy of forgiveness. Some lines are better not crossed. 
"I wanted a life." I look back at her. She is still staring at the moon but her eyes flicker to mine in between to see if I'm listening. I am. I'm always listening. 
"I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be loved. To grow up like every other kid. Leave my home for studies and then come visit my loving parents. I wanted to get married to a man I loved, who loved me back. I wanted children, two or even three. I wanted a dog and two cats. I wanted everything."
My fingers itch to crush someone's neck as I watch the hope in her expression crumble. "Do you not want it anymore?" She shakes her head. 
"My parents were never as loving as I would've liked. My husband doesn't love me. I didn't grow up like every other kid. I am not normal." The itching grows. I want to know what happened. I want to know how I can help but I cannot ask her. Not now. 
She is intoxicated. If I ask her now and she tells me, it won't be because she wants to, because she trusts me. It will be because she doesn't have control over her tongue. "Will you ever tell me what happened?" She blinks at me before opening her mouth and closing it a couple times. 
I shake my head. "Not today darling. Someday, when you're sober and you trust me, I would want to hear what hurt you and how I can hurt it back." 
She walks closer. Closer than ever before. "You want my trust?" I nod. "Why?" 
"You're my wife, my darling. I wanted to be your safe place. I want you to know there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you." 
"Will you love me? Build a marriage? Adopt children?" Her voice turns accusing with every other question. It guts me how little she expects of me. I'm aware our start was unconventional, hell, it was diabolical. But haven't we grown since?