*”LOVED OUT, HURT OUT…”*
*”Didnt they tell you as a child that you cant build happiness on someone elses misery?”* Emilys voice carried quiet reproach as she glanced at me.
*”They did. Read about it in books. But as a child, I never needed that lesson. Back then, you dont really grasp itwhat happiness even is, or suffering. How could you build something so vague on someone elses pain? Childhoods for dreaming of sweets and ice cream, or catching the latest film at the cinema…*
*Truth is, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriages. Where was I supposed to learn morals?”*
…Emily was my friendalways proper, unshakable. She never judged me. Over a glass of wine, shed listen, amused, to my tangled love stories.
But Emily? She couldnt afford such recklessness. A lecturer at Oxford, her position demanded decorum.
Her marriage was stable, unbreakable. In their youth, her husband, James, had been too fond of the bottlerowdy, unfaithful. Shed had him *”fixed”*no more drinking. Now, at dinner parties, hed grumble, *”A man needs to unwind!”*
Emily would answer, cool as ice: *”If you cant behave, James, dont bother.”*
Hed fall silent. Over time, he settled into his rolepouring drinks, playing the dutiful host.
Occasionally, Emily took him to Spain or Italy. But even there, hed embarrass her.
*”Imagine,”* she fumed after Barcelona, *”While I was at the pool, this fool flirted with some tart at the bar. Smiling, sipping cocktailsher eyes begging for him. Oh, I let him have it later!”*
*”Bet he denied it?”* I grinned.
*”Of course. Said I was imagining things.”* Emily scoffed. *”But let him dream. Wheres he going? No woman would keep himhis salarys a joke. Even some lonely widow would toss him out within a month. All hes got is that pathetic twinkle in his eye.”*
…When Daniel came into my married life, I knew it was wrong. He had a wife, two sons. I fought the feelingsbut they hit like an avalanche. A love that tore at the seams.
My conscience whispered: *”Stop. Dont touch that fire. Youll regret it. Youve got your own familywhy chase a married man? Youll drown in tears.”*
But I charged ahead. Couldnt live a day without him. We were lost in each other, love like a knife to the throatinescapable.
Then, all barriers fell.
Just us, and the poison of passion.
Six months in, the truth was plain: we had nothing in common. But we clung to the ghost of love. I revived it, again and again.
Daniel drank. Lied. Even raised his hand to me. We were worlds apart. Id kick him out, take the keys, cut off his phone. Hed vanish for weeks, then return with roses and burning need.
I let himbecause I loved him, sick with it. I shouldve cut him loose. But he drained me, hollowed me out, left me raw.
So I ran to someone elserevenge.
Victor was everything Daniel wasnt: steady, polite, sober. At first, I liked it. But within a month? Dull. Lifeless. No fire, just flatline. I craved chaos, the rollercoaster.
I regretted letting Victor close. Not my type. Yet he kept calling, until finally, he got the message.
Alone at last. Free. A month of peace.
ThenDaniel called.
I ran to him, heart pounding. Still in love, still hoping.
*”Claire, we have to end this. Well destroy each other,”* he said, avoiding my eyes.
*”Youre right. We cant keep living on the edge.”* My heart shattered, but I held firm.
We parted.
For three days.
Thena knock. Daniel stood there, champagne in hand, gaze burning.
That night was wildfire. Our bodies fused. We drowned in each other.
I knew morning would bring nothing good. The night had been too perfect, too sweetoverdone.
Turned out, my past torment was just the beginning. Daniel confessed: *”I owe serious people money. Gambling debts. If I dont pay…”*
It took months. We sold his flat, his car… and with that, my passion for him died. That debt was the final straw.
Now? Indifference. Were like old friends, distant relatives. Laughing, talking, sleeping apart. Drifting.
Nothing warms me. Ive drunk the cup dry.
No happiness built.
Loved out. Hurt out.
