So she wakes up to a call which announces to her that his mistress is off to Singapore to be with him. She was not much surprised to hear it. She has seen it come eventually, but did not think it would happen so soon when she was about to have the baby. People ask her who got the woman the ticket, and she says she has no clue. She does not lie, she had no clue. It was just peaceful slumber which had been broken over a useless man and useless woman. It was just like lot of other things that she had no clue of. For more elaboration, she has no clue of the fact that he was working as a research assistant, and that he was making money, and that he was going around calling her a bitchy, bossy, boisterous person and etc etc etc. So yes, she could be wrapped up in 3 Bs, and trapped be he, who had married him. At least that is what he had been telling whoever would believe him. And with help from his whore. She and he in a combined effort had gone around telling that she trapped him into a marriage. That her poor kid sealed the deal and that she used him to keep him trapped to her. She only knew the story of her home, and her child, and her marriage. And she realised she alone would really know it.

She tells the people who speak to her, and want to know whether she knows of this trip, “ I am sure I come off the bitch then”. And the poor dumb struck man who had believed for a long time that her husband’s screw was his woman, adds, “yes that is what she told me. That you are a bitchy person who is harassing your husband.” She could not help but laugh. Harassing her husband was a new thing, and the latest was that she called him a homosexual. It was funny that he was using things he had been feeding her to be the case, as things she had made up and put out to the world.

She was relieved, that he had proved that he was lying the whole time when he said there was nothing between the woman and him. She was glad that she could get out of all this messes, with her sanity in place, and without giving a shit about what his colleagues were told of her. She was glad that two people who were equally messed up had found each other, a man who screwed a woman who gave not two hoots of her kid, even as his child was being born, and was churning and kicking in his wife’s womb. She was glad. She was glad that her life had direction for a change, without hoping for things to become better when they would not, without waiting for him to stop screwing around when he wouldn’t and without waiting for a happy family reunion to happen, which he wanted not.

She was proud of herself. She had not shed silly tears of pity , anger or frustration. She has smiled on hearing all the stories, had answered all questions with sanity and a smile: even laughed at some moments when the fucked up behaviour of the two of them was beyond belief but nevertheless too hilarious to ignore. One leaves her 6 year old child to screw around while the other cuts ties with his 8 month old kid within his wife’s womb. His colleague asks her, why she married him, while adding that he feels sad for her. She tells him that she married him because she loved him and because she believed his word when he said he would not screw around and that he would be around and be a good dad. Bad move on her part, but then what could one say, she had made a mistake, and she would climb out from that pit.

She gets a call from her friend, a friend she used to like having around, most probably should have dated and just did not, but who had been a good friend nevertheless. She just listened to that familiar voice, of the person who always connected dots, and who saw logic and was a planner who would have made her life easier had she picked otherwise. But she was happy with that familiarity, it gave her hope that things will be for the best, that she was over a man who had hurt her and hurt her child in ways ever possible, with abortion options, depressive feelings and suicidal moments. She had been around him, slept in the same bed when he would not touch her, while screwing the other. He would hug him from behind and ask him to be kissed, and his lips would brush against her in obligation without passion or desire. She had lived it, started to endure it, and then come to terms with it. She remembered waiting at the gate watching him leave, till he turned at the bend, and wondered if he would ever look back and wave at her. He did not. But she anyways continued doing it. And he continued not turning back. Life was such, and she had shed her emotions out in tears, wasted and learnt to outgrown it. She had grown old in 8 months than in her last 8 years. Till she found her peace in a little corner of her mind, in finding solace in that solitude which gave her hope to heal, to be able to love someone, to appreciate another man, and a man who will be around for her this time. She was sure she would find a man who would love her for who she was, not for the music she should have liked, or the hair she should have cut, or the tattoo she should have got. She was sure she would find a man to love her, and her son as his own, so that her son would not need to deal with a dad who screwed around, and came when he pleases and as he pleases. She was stronger and happier, and definitely saner.

In to the bathroom goes to pick that pink tooth brush, and to put it out, out of her house, and out of her life. His time in that bathroom. A small step of many more steps to be kept, but would go along way, till she erased all memory of him off her mind, her life, and her unborn son’s life.