He felt an odd feeling in his heart. Everything was perfect. He had a beautiful wife. He basked in all the love she showered on him. He loved her too. And told her that often. More to convince himself than her. He earned well enough to take care of all her needs. Yet, his eyes always scanned the crowds. He knew he should not be doing that while his wife held his hands. So lovingly and looked at him with so much warmth.
Yet, he feels guilty of thinking back often. Thinking of what might have been, if he had not let her go. Guilt sliced him every time he thought of her.
Why did he long to spot her in the crowds? What would he do if he ever saw her again? Smile? Walk towards her? Walk away from her? Talk to her? Introduce her to his wife? Cry? Would he look into her eyes? Would he avert it?
It was all so confusing. If that was love, then what was that he felt for his wife? If that was love, what is this? Care? Friendship? Companionship? A need to love and be loved? Desperation?
He shook his head, as if clearing all those thoughts. This is love. He said to himself sternly. Only this. That was not. He had to let go.
There was just a small problem. He did not know how.