Forevermore

Growing up, my Father always pestered us on the reality of Karma. Many nights were spent next to my quiet brother, sitting cross-legged on the ornate maroon carpet, fireplace blazing to battle the raging storms outside, and maids wordlessly judging our every move as we tried desperately to not fall asleep at another hour-long speech.

“Try as we might, the consequence of our every action follows us until our last day. Every word, every thought will come back to bite you my children, just as it has for me. Swear that you will never end up like this, suffering the corollary of your own thoughtless practices and wishing you had done things differently.”

Well, I never listened. And here we are, chancing longing glances across the room to one another while our loveless marriages loom over our heads like storm clouds, darkening our very existence. Just like my father said, my own recklessness and abandon now haunts me, and I cannot seem to shake the idea it always will. My husband is a very successful socialite. I go to parties like this almost every other week, dressed in compromising gowns and restricting corsets as I make meaningless small talk with other equally bored wives, all arguing how their husband is the richest, the smartest, strongest one in the room. Then he takes my gloved hand onto the dance floor, spinning me around not as an act of appreciation, but instead to gloat on the prize he won. Me.

In a moment of pause, I take the opportunity to slip away from the crowded ballroom, walking into a room that is not mine, but I know all too well. He is already there. The man that haunts my dreams, thoughts, and very being, deep blue eyes staring into mine in a teasing manner.

“You seemed tortured out there” The man says with an all-knowing smirk.

“Because I was. Henry and his friends refused to stop talking about their previous hunting trip. They think they can get more deer next time.”

He laughs, in that deep, rich voice that could make even the most stubborn bird sing. It makes my heart skip a beat, then makes my stomach turn at how stupid I am to fall into this scene.

“Yes, that definitely seems like something they would think. I rarely got the appeal of those trips though. So much... mud.”

We sit in silence for a few seconds, both debating how to bring up the situation we have found ourselves in. Eventually, he is the one to pierce it.

“Darling, you and I both know what we have done. What this has done. You have possessed my mind, and I surmise you feel the same way. Soon he will know. He will notice all the times you have come home with a blush on your cheeks or chosen to wear his least favourite colour to a public event. He will realise how things have not only changed between you two, but us also. And if it continues down this road, it is only a matter of time till-”

“No. I am not risking everything that I created for myself to our fleeting romance. This was a dumb decision, that is all. You have a wife too, and her life will be ruined if we desert our current lives. And then what? We find some old cottage in the woods, live without any human contact until we go insane in each other's skin? I never learned to cook; I have chefs for that. And you yourself said you hate to hunt. So, let’s just leave this ordeal behind, and forget we ever even crossed paths.”

Without giving him a moment to respond, I walk out of the room, and back into the hall to find my husband, who most likely failed to even notice my absence.

But the nights that followed, he never left me behind. Not physically of course, but instead spiritually, a piece of his aura clinging to my clothes as I tried tirelessly to forget all those nights together. In my food I remembered the meals we shared, in my clothes I remembered the pieces he loved and even in my husband I saw the effort he made that Henry never did. I awoke in the night reaching for him, instead finding my husband's cold arm and loud snore. But I would see him in the sunlight, shimmers of warmth mirroring his own and glimmers of brightness like the ones I would find in his eyes, disappearing just as they did because of my own actions. Idiotic, some would say.

And sometimes, we would cross paths again. In those familiar yet frigid rooms, eyes meeting for only a second but lasting in my mind for a lifetime.

The years went by, and I never really knew how to shake it. Especially when I soon gave birth to a young boy, sporting his same deep blue eyes. My husband thought they were his own, but I knew a kindness in them that was unfamiliar to Henry. And as he grew, so did my longing for those nights we spent long ago. He developed a love for animals, howling like a banshee whenever his father tried to take him on hunting trips. Instead, the two of us would spend our days out in the garden, frolicking in fields and chasing butterflies of all varieties.

There came a day when my son came home, a woman on his arm with the grace of a swan.

“Mother, I am to be wedded to this woman next month. I hope you will be there for us on this journey.”

The wedding was pleasant, if not subtle; hedges lining the altar and umbrellas covering family and friends from the heat. I cried for my son, not because of sadness, but because of the hope I withheld for him. That was until his bride walked down the aisle, a familiar man, handing her off to my successor.

All that I have done to separate myself from him, and now we are tied together on a family tree forevermore. I suppose karma really does follow us until our very last day.