Meera

The universe has brought down the stars to Earth, yet my heart remains restless. Because they have come without him.

The image of that woman sitting on his lap flashes across my eyes, and I shut them tightly, as if that could erase the memory. A lone tear escapes, trailing down my red-hued cheek like a drop of molten sorrow.

My chin wobbles, lips quivering, as tears find their way onto my trembling lips. My heart aches—a pain so raw, so unbearable, that even the greatest sin I have ever committed did not hurt this much.

A broken sob escapes my lips, and I cry, clutching the railing of my balcony as though it’s the only thing keeping me standing.

Once again, I stand beneath the vast, endless sky, beneath the stars that blink and glitter, beneath the moon that shines so cruelly above.

I feel as though it mocks me, whispering that I do not deserve its light, its beauty, its purity.

I lift my head, eyes burning, lips parting as I breathe in the cold night air. Why? My gaze locks onto the moon. Why does it have to be me? Why can’t you shimmer your light upon me, cleanse me of this darkness? Why does it always have to be dark?

I plead for an answer, but none comes.

The moon glows profoundly, the stars glimmer indifferently.

I still remember the first time I saw Abram. He was beautiful then—he still is. But back then, he was different. He was kind. He had a heart of gold.

Blue against amber—his eyes burned with an intensity that made my world tremble. And in that moment, I fell. His name became the only word in my dictionary, the only name I wanted to recite for the rest of my life.

He became my joy in the day and my peace in the night. My heart would hum, butterflies would swarm in my belly whenever I saw him.

Abram was gentle and sweet. Charming and compassionate. But I stole that from him.

What he did today… he would have never done it had I not destroyed him first.

He would have respected me. He would have treated me with kindness. But I took away his charm, his empathy, his very essence.

I stole his love.

I stole the woman he was supposed to be happy with, the woman he was supposed to spend his life with.

I cannot even blame him for what he did today. I deserve it. I deserve every inch of his hatred. Every humiliation.

Wiping the tears from my face, I reach into my bag and pull out a photograph.

My fingers tremble as they trace the image—the two of us, smiling in Bali, caught in a moment of pure happiness.

Charlotte.

My sister.

She was everything to me. My protector. My light. The one who built me up when I felt small, the one who loved me unconditionally.

And how did I repay her?

I stole Abram from her.

Tears spill onto the picture, my voice breaking as I whisper, "I’m sorry, Lottie. I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for taking Abram. I’m sorry for turning him into this. I’m sorry for everything. Please… please forgive me."

I sob. And sob. And sob.

I don’t know what to do. I cannot bear Abram’s hatred, even though I know I deserve it. Even if this is my punishment, my path to redemption.

I just can’t bear that look in his eyes.

I can’t bear to see him with another woman.

It hurts. It rips through me, shreds my soul into pieces.

I am guilty of many things.

But one thing I will never regret—never— is marrying Abram.

I will never regret marrying the love of my life.

Even if it makes me a villain. Even if the world calls me selfish, cruel, a bitch.

I wipe my tears, my decision firm.

I will never let my heart live again.

I will not yearn for his forgiveness.

I have his hatred.

And that is the only way I can pay for what I did.

The only way I can redeem myself for killing my sister.

***
Love Pia.