Fifty Shades of Commitment

18- not edited

My blue eyes travel to his green ones, both of us lost in our desire and lust, as our irises grow darker and darker by the second. Luke- or Mike, or even Justin, I can't even remember with all the alcohol- wraps my legs around his waist and yanks me to him, taking me by surprise, to which I part my lips open, an opportunity he takes to smash his lips against mine, the feeling conjuring with the sensation of the tilt of my pelvis against his erection running wild in the insides of his Ralph Lauren white boxers. He joins our foreheads together as he increases the intensity of our kiss, while shivers slither down my body like runaway snakes.

You see, Christian and I, we both tried. For months, we tried so hard to be away from each other, to move on, to forget.

But you can't forget the unforgettable.

And I gave in.

And he gave in too.

And then, like all at once, we both gave in to our own desires for 1 month, and just like that, a love we once thought was over, dead, ended, reborn.

For once, in 7 months, everything felt right, everything felt in place.

But then his marriage got in the way, and for the first time I found myself thinking beyond my own selfish needs, and I realized that no amount of love and desire and need that held me to Christian, could surface the amount of pain we were causing.

To his marriage.

To his family.

To himself.

And to me too, but I couldn't care less about me.

And what broke us (or fixed us) was that I finally realised that it's pointless to hold on to something that you know will never happen.

So on that night, I packed my bags, put my house for sell online, got a random plane ticket, and left.

And God, I was a coward, I know that. I was selfish and egoistical and greedy and narcissist, but I knew that it was the right thing to do.

Because I knew that Paige was feeling the gnawing pain I once felt.

The pain of being cheated. The pain of being betrayed. The pain of realising you're not good enough to keep a husband without him getting bored. And that pain is the type I wish to nobody.

With that on my mind, the first thing I did when I settled down in New York was fill the divorce papers, without revealing my location to Christian.

For each letter that the ink spread above the thin black line, my heart broke a little. But it also slowly breathed a little more too. And when Anastasia Steele was finally penned on that paper, I realised that I was halfway through my path to freedom.

And for 2 months, he called everyday, sent emails everyday, God I'm not even surprised if he sent a lookout team for me, but for each ring that I never answered and each ping that I never read, I knew that I was doing the right thing.

So on the day that Christian stopped calling and sending emails, and when I got the notification from my divorce attorney that he had signed the papers, I exhaled a huge chunk of breath in relief, because right now, he had a new family, and as I once told him, I refused to be a home-wrecker.

So here we are.

As of today, I haven't seen him for three years.

And to celebrate my sacrifice, I'm lunging my head in the air with my eyes rolled to the back of it, as a complete stranger thrusts himself onto me and I can momentarily lose myself to all these sensations, as we collectively surrender to our moans and groans and sighs.

And once we are all done and everything is over with, and he collapses onto the empty side of my bed, sound asleep, I find myself in the kitchen with a familiar ache in my chest as the overwhelming sensations I was feeling just two minutes ago gradually disappear, leaving me with the demons of my decisions three years ago, drowning my sorrows in a transparent glass of bourbon with a single tear shedding down my face as I silently apologize to Christian for betraying him once again.