REGRET - Allan Deya (good story books to read .txt) 📗

did not start up this company with the policy that once in management you can slack off.” “Neither did you start up the company with people who were unable to be delegated to.”
She knew she had him when he took a deep breath and said ‘shit’. So she started towards the car. “Did you just curse at me?” “No of course not. But I still have to go…” He began. “No you don’t. Have Anna mail them over, being the efficient PA that she is I am sure she will not leave the office until she sees you get back. “They are hard copies.” He said. “I brought home my old fax machine today, so she can fax them over.” There was a brief pause, “There was never any chance of me winning this argument, was there?” “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” She affirmed. “Now open this door.” “Why? I am coming out. ” Knowing the reaction it would have on Daniella, she turned around and said it so that she could hear. “Why do I need you to open the door for me? Because I want to make out with my husband before we go in for dinner.” Danni made a gagging noise and ran into the house shrieking “The horror! The horror!” shouting after their fleeing daughter she added. “Preferably in a conducive environment.”
Vincent stepped out of the car first, his laptop bag bulging with paperwork, his coat draped over his arm and his daughters school bag slung over his shoulder. He came around the car and opened the door for a visibly flushed Martha and offered his arm. “Well,” she said, patting her hair back in place and fanning herself. “I would like very much to continue this conversation at a later date in a more appropriate venue.” “You wish my dear.” He said giving a mock bow and waiting until she started carping, “Oh so now because I made you not go back to the office you are going to get me all flushed and then do nothing abo…” before he continued- “And I facilitate that very wish.” “Well.” She said again before she took o a new hue of blush. “You know I love you.” She said as they reached the door, “And I you.” He replied as he shut it. “
Pamela lost all sense of reality when she saw him. She had fretted while waiting in the car; would he be the same? Would 5 years have changed him? Was he happy? Would he ever forgive her? Was there any chance of them getting back together? That little episode that had just played out in front of her though left her with no uncertainty whatsoever. The answers to her questions were written on the wall with bold gold letters and they were: No; he was much more handsome than she remembered, Yes; he had so much more vitality now, Yes; he seemed ecstatic, No; he would probably still hate her while she was burning in hell, No; she had more of a chance getting Mandela to turn white.
Knowing this, she should have backed away from the curb and driven back to her lack luster existence with a man who constantly demeaned her, often cheated on her and would never care about her. She should have swallowed the pie she had baked herself and gone on to become one of those typical rich men’s wives. The type who had too much money and not enough affection; the type who lived an empty shell of a life occasioned by lavish parties, worldwide shopping sprees and friends who didn’t really give a damn about you. But no, she stayed parked out there. She knew it was a long shot. But she felt that if only he could forgive her, if maybe he could tell her that they were okay, then she could move on. But she knew that was a lie. How could she ever go back to pretending that her existence had any real substance when the life she had departed had so much meaning?
The man she had turned her back on had his own company, and by the looks of things- read luxury European car and palatial suburban home, was in the league of the rich and famous. His celebrity look alike wife was not only fabulous to look at, it seemed that she could give him and her daughter everything that Pamela never could or rather chose not to. Tears of loss, tears of longing, tears of regret all flowed freely down from hr aching head to pool at her wounded heart. Skies which had erstwhile been clear and sunny turned dark and gray, almost as though to mirror her mood and when the rain started to fall, she couldn’t help thinking that this was fate’s way of rubbing it in. She had loved; she had lost and now had to content herself with fantasies of what might have been.
A ringing phone jolted her out of her self pity. She composed her mind, drained the tears from her voice and took 3 deep breaths before answering. Her husband might have been a shameless philanderer but he did not brook her as much as flirting with any other man and a broken girl on the other end of the line would constitute more than just harmless flirting. “Hallo?” she said. “Are you going to sit in the car even in this pouring rain, or would you like to come in for a hot cup of cocoa.” Vincent asked. She looked up and saw him standing at the foot of the open door with an umbrella in hand. His wife looked on from behind him, her arm territorially encircling his waist while Daniella hugged her around the hips. That was a family; and she had long since burnt any bridge that would have offered her a place there. She opened the door and stepped out in the downpour hoping that the rain would mask the fresh batch of tears. Vincent reached her in a few quick strides. She took a quick glance at the two ladies by the door, waiting for their man of the house, and resignation sunk in, completely swathing the regret. He needed to make this right by her, probably as much as she needed closure.
This would be the final chapter in the book of her life. She had lived hard, she had loved deeply and then she had lost greatly. Now all that was left was REGRET.

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Publication Date: 01-11-2010

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