Warning:  Jumpy timeline and POV ahead!

BGM:  Little Do You Know – Alex & Sierra

Rain!

Definitely the rain!

That is what you remind me of.

Your presence as soothing as the summer rain.

Your voice  as calming as the sound of the rain hitting my window.

But your words.

Oh your words.

They are as cold as the rainy night during winter.

It’s my fault.  I know.

I was the one who robbed your blue sky, and I was also the one who turned it to rain.

I hurt you, and you changed.

‘I’m sorry.’

How I hate the fact that I have nothing else to say other than those three pathetic words.

How I wish I can say something more.

To correct the wrong.

To justify why I did what I did.

But nothing comes to mind.

Because what I did was wrong, and there’s nothing I say that can justify my mistake.

Oh! I do have more that I can say, but none of it would make me sound nor look less pathetic than I already am.

‘It’s my fault.’

‘I was wrong.’

‘I don’t know.’

“I should’ve known.”

“I ed up.”

Honestly, there is more that I can say.  But it will always ended with the same, “I’m sorry.”

I wish you can hurt me more than you already are.

Punish me more than you already are.

It hurts, to always be reminded of my mistake and the consequences.

Gone was the shine in your eyes.

How I miss your mischievous glint when you are planning of ways to prank me in your head.

Or when you are waiting for the right time to deliver your jokes.

All these warning signs, and you still wonder how I know that you are up to something.

How I miss the smell of your hair as you lay your head on my chest.

Do you know I would sneakily smell your pillow every morning while you are in the shower

Because now you slept so far away from me, as if I am carrying contagious diseases with me.

But do I blame you?

No I don’t.  I too would be disgusted with myself if I were you.

Heck!  Even now, I am disgusted with myself.

I see your tired lifeless steps.  As if you are carrying the whole world on your shoulders.

And I blame myself, again!

I can’t imagine the shame you have to bear when my affair was disclosed.

It was my mistake.

My .

Yet you are forcefully dragged into this finger-pointing game.

You used to love going out and socialize, but now you locked yourself inside our house.

For the fear of their harsh whispers.

Scared over their finger pointing.

Lopsided lips.

Hard eyes.

Judging you  as if  you are guilty of murder.

When the truth is, I am the murderer.

I murdered you happiness.

I murdered you soul.

I murdered your trust..

I did!

But why am I not given the same judging eyes?

Why am I not the victim of those harsh whispers?

Why am I not the target of those fingers, pointing, looking for the one to be blamed?

Why?

I was the one who cheats and lies!

I was the one who spends the night, oops! Sorry, not night.

But nights!

I spent nights, sometimes even days, in someone else’s arms, feeding you lies after lies.

While you were just at home, innocently waiting for my return.

And I returned.

And you were happy.

Until the truth reached you.

Until I slipped and ed everything up!

There was lipstick stain on my white shirt.

And hotel card in the pocket of my blazer.

Notification of the new set of lingerie being delivered to unfamiliar address popped up on my phone.

!

Double !

Triple !

I remember the way you looked at me then.

No question in you