To Be His Lover

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a woman who is obsessed with love

Submitted: October 31, 2011

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Submitted: October 31, 2011

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TO BE HIS LOVER By Bissme S
 

It was said that we can never be lovers. But I was determined to change this. I was obsessed to be his lover. I really believed I was destined to love him and no one else.I have tried to love other men, but all the relationships failed to work out. The more I dissected my failed relationships, the clearer the picture became - at any circumstances and at any price, I had to be his lover. There was no two ways about it.
As long as I was not his lover, I would never find any peace. Sadness will always hang over my life like dark clouds. I am tired of dark clouds. I yearn for a rainbow. Only he can give me the rainbow that I want so desperately.There are many nights when I cry myself to sleep, knowing the fact that we can never share a bed together. I am tired of crying. I want so badly to be happy. Only he can give me the happiness I search for.
Interestingly, I barely recall our first meeting. But as I got older, I developed an insane fascination for him. At first, I thought it was just a crush. With time, I thought it will melt away and I will find someone nearer to my age.But I never got over him. As the years passed by, the fascination for him just grew. He had loved me. That I cannot deny. But he never loved me like a lover... like Romeo would love his Juliet.
I wanted him to love me as passionately and intensely as he had loved his dead wife. I wanted him to take me in his arms and utter sweet loving words into my ears.
I never met his wife. I had only seen at her photos. She died when I was born. At certain angles, I do resemble her. But still he didn't love me the way he had loved her.
Sometimes I can't help feeling jealous of his late wife. Her fingers had gone through all his intimate places. She had felt his warmth, tasted his lust and carried his child. I wanted badly to be in her shoes.But then, if his wife were alive, most likely, there would be some detachment between him and me. Perhaps I would not feel for him the way I do now. I believe I would have been more concerned about her feelings.
With my old face and given name, there is no way he would take me as his lover. So I changed everything about me; my face, my name and myself. I adopted a total different identity.I still remember what the plastic surgeon told me when I wanted him to alter every single feature on my face.
"I never had a beautiful woman walk into my office and ask me to change her entire face," said the surgeon.
The surgeon did a perfect job. I barely recognized myself when I looked into the mirror. I felt like a stranger was staring back.Prior to my surgery, I staged my own death. To the world, I died when my car skidded and plunged into the river. My body was never found.
A year after my "presumed" funeral, I returned to my hometown with a new name and a new face. From Phallavi, I became Pooja. No one recognized me, not even him.They all believed me when I said I was a copywriter attached to a well-known advertising agency, who was tired of the city and looking for a quiet life, far from the madding crowd.
I expressed a keen interest to learn piano. Naturally I was introduced to him. He was a well- known pianist.I pretended to know nothing about an instrument that I had played since I was five years old. Ironically, he was my piano tutor then. The piano lessons were just a charade to be reintroduced to him and slowly win his heart. I knew him so well; the right subjects to be bring up during our conversation. 
We got along famously. We laughed a lot. I knew exactly the right things to say to make him laugh.Soon enough, love was blossoming between us. A dream came true for me. For once, I had his love the way I dreamt of.
Initially he was not comfortable with the difference in our age. I was 25 while he was 50. It took sometime to convince him that love breaks through barriers of race, religion and age.
In less than two years since we met, he proposed and I accepted with joy. Finally I was becoming more than his lover. I was becoming his wife.

******
This year marks four years we have been together as husband and wife. Truly, it had been the happiest years of my life. Finally happiness has entered my life and sadness has disappeared into the thin air.
He is still in the dark about my true identity. He has no clue that we have met long before our first piano lessons. He really believes that fate had brought us together. 
But in reality, I had manipulated my way into his heart. It was a manipulation at the highest degree.I hope he never finds out the truth. He will have a hard time digesting the facts. He will have regrets over what transpired between us. 
Like many, he would regard what we had done was not right. As for me, I am not bothered about what is right and what is wrong. I have no regrets at all. I was tired of living a life of misery. I was tired at not getting what my heart desired. I was tired of living by the law that was written centuries ago.
So I did what my heart craved for without bothering about the consequences. When the time comes, I will be ready to face God's wrath, his punishment and his hell.Looking back now, I feel it was not entirely my fault. I never asked to be born as his daughter. More than his daughter, I wanted to be his lover.

 

The End 

 

Footnote: To read more of short stories please go to bissme.blogspot.com 


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