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You’re not the one.
Those words drifted through his mind. It had been months since the first time he heard them and even now they cut just as deep as the first time, ripping apart everything inside of him. The other woman was in another room, he could hear her there rummaging through the cabinets or who knows what. It didn’t matter to him. None of it did. She could have been stealing him blind for all he cared, none of it made him want to run from the covers of his bed. He knew she would be back before long. At least that much he was sure of.
“Hey babe, you want a drink?”
“Sure,” was all he could say, it would numb the thoughts. The storm of words and emotions brewing in his head that came to him in isolation. This felt wrong, all of it, from the first touch he always thought about another and not the one he was with. But then she had admitted much the same. That she was in love with someone else. Someone who she could not be with for whatever the reasons he never asked. It was the one thing, the only thing he understood now. How much he went through to numb the pain, the absence knowing a piece of his heart was gone forever. But he understood, at least in this moment someone else knew his pain. His frustration, of not being the one.