The Verisimilitude of Witheld Hurt

The Verisimilitude of Witheld Hurt

The story is about the painful break up of a lady with her fiance of several years, and her later regret of the refusal to get over the hurt early enough.

 

You’d cackled so hard your throat hurt that afternoon he broke to you the news that your relationship with him was over.

You were seated facing each other in his office on the third floor of the building where you both worked that fateful day. It was lunch time. And being the only chance you got these days to see him, which you felt quite dissatisfied with, you’d wanted to use it that day to speak with him about what was withering your blossomed relationship of five years. The most vivid memory you still had of that doleful day was its awing dazzle. The way the sun reflected blindingly on the window panes in his office that you had to squint to keep your gaze on him. The day had held so much brightness, that there had actually been nothing to give you any inkling about what dread it held in store for you.

“Tade…erm, I don’t think I want us to continue to see each other,” his words had hit you like stray bullets from outside a shatterproof confinement. Those words had spilled out prosaically, in the firmest voice you’d ever heard him speak, after your prolonged prodding to make him tell you what the matter was. The brusqueness of the news, and its suddenness, had been what led to your cackle. But you later got to find out that it had been the most appropriate attitude to put up at that time. That it was what had actually kept you strong and sane the whole while the message had taken to sink in. And would do in the future, whenever you remembered the incident.

“What’s funny about that?” he’d asked you in a pissed manner, and complemented it with a loud hiss amidst your cackle. At that instant, you’d felt your head deflate as charges fizzled out of your brain. That could have been the most appropriate time for you to vent whatever emotions it was that was building up in you on him. Most probably, pick up whatever object you could lay hands on and smash his head with it. But you hadn’t felt like hurting him. The hiss had been for effect, you knew. It had been just for him to appear bold before you. Because even as he did that, just as when he broke the debilitating news of the break-up to you, his chest heaved tediously, and he completely avoided your gaze.

The fact that it was barely a month since he started work, and his engagement to you was just three weeks old, made the situation even more difficult to grasp. You found it impossible to admit that the job he just got was actually the cause of the crumbling of your relationship, because all the while he wasn’t with any, it had been smooth. For two years after he graduated from school, he was without a job. It was in his third year of idleness that you’d encouraged him to go for his masters’ program which you sponsored. And then after the program, you’d fixed him up in the oil company where you worked. Just as you’d wanted it, his qualification had earned him an enviable position there. One even higher than yours. And you’d been really proud of it. Before this devastating situation came up all of a sudden.

Before getting up to leave, you let your eyes rove about his tastefully furnished office. The office you’d spent the past three years of your life working relentlessly to make sure that he got. And as you did, you thought of the time in the past you’d flirted with almost all the managers in the company just to get him the job. You knew it would be vague to deny to yourself that you even lay with one of them. The Human Resource own. And now, this was your deserving reward for your effort.

You noticed that everything in there was still the way they used be, except your picture, which had been removed from the plastic picture stand positioned next to the glass ash-tray right in front of you on the table. As you took one last look at his fine face before making for the door, that master art piece you’d hoped would remain with you till in death, you found out you were still numb. You couldn’t feel any anger for him. Not even the flimsiest bit. And even the urge to beg him and ask him questions hadn’t come. You weren’t that kind of girl anyway. But in such a worrisome situation, these were natural instincts. However, they hadn’t felt necessary to occur to you and you’d accepted your condition that way.

You knew he hadn’t seen the tears that rolled from your eyes as you left, but were sure his eyes had trailed after you till you shut his door behind you. And that was how you’d bid goodbye to your love of five solid years.

The first thing you’d done when you found out the cause of your break-up, which had been that he was dating the general manager’s daughter, was to terminate your then five weeks old pregnancy. Then to preserve your sanity, you’d left the company for another one. The news that he was getting married to her had been what eventually reared up the devil in you. From that moment, you took up a lifestyle you never imagined you could live. You gave access to every rod that prodded you. In as much as you had immense pleasure, your condition continued to deteriorate. You kept loosing shards and shards of your precious life. You started to smoke when they eventually got married. But stopped it as quickly as you started for the sake of your already damaged heart.

Then you began to live your life based on a decision you made never to get married. The close friendships you kept with the males were primarily for your gain. You kept intimacy with them far, and broke up with any that showed sign of wanting to go into such relationship with you. Most of your life, you spent it building your career strongly, just to see it that you had those woes called men gripped between your legs. Then, you spent another large part of it stalking on your estranged fiancé, Timi, and hoping earnestly that someday, karma would pay him a horrible visit and his life would crumble.

Initially, you cared less about what anyone thought of you. For you, life couldn’t be more compensating. You turned out a highly successful woman, and wielded so much charm and strength that made grown men become dummies before you. With the way things turned out for you, you couldn’t have asked for more. But gradually, as time passed, when the shady envy you used to notice in people’s glance at you turned to glaring pity, you grew out of the comfort of living an independent, powerful, grudge-filled life. You began to crave for a change. You became in need of a companion. But unfortunately, now, age was far ahead of you, and you no longer got that sort attention to easily earn you one. You’d spent the better part of your life nursing Timi’s hurt while he lived happily on. The time that your wish of karma paying him a horrible visit nearly came to pass had been when he lost his first child. But the next birth his wife had after his first son’s death had been a set of twins.

Thirty years gone by. The last you heard of him was that he just left the country with his wife for the US to join their last child there. It was then it became clear to you that Timi had lived his life fully without you. You’d only suffered yourself for nothing.

Now you’re on Life’s street, your pain long waned, hoping that it gives you just one more chance to live it right this time.



39 thoughts on “The Verisimilitude of Witheld Hurt” by Eletrika (@babyada)

  1. Well done @babyada I really appreciate the third person narrative.

    1. It’s called the 2nd person narrative. Third person narrative is also called the omniscient point of consciousness where the writer is able to narrate all the intentions of all the characters.

        1. @kaycee, nobody knows it all. Why the sarcasm?

  2. One word; beautiful!

    1. Coming from you, yaaaaay!

      Thanks for stopping by, dear.

  3. @femtrols, thanks. It’s my first time of writing from it though.

    Thanks for stopping by.

  4. @topazo thanks for stopping by.

  5. hmm, my honest opinion – it seems as if the 2nd person narrative used kind of sapped the right emotions from this story. There is something so personal about heartbreaks that comes out so intensely in first person narratives.
    Also, in your diction you kept dipping from standard to local lingual usage in several places – e.g. “You’d only suffered *yourself for nothing.” (pidgin undertone?)

    The title – “The Verisimilitude of *Witheld Hurt” (That should be Withheld).
    Good story, though it could have been better written.
    Well done

    1. Pentunia007, thanks for stopping by to drop your honest comment. It’s exactly why we’re here; to learn.

      As for the POV, well, considering the theme of the story, I wouldn’t have used it if it didn’t work for me.

      Thanks all the same.

      1. @petunia007: You have a mention here…did you see it?

  6. You did good @eletrika

    1. Thank you much for the compliment @drzhivago, and for stopping by.

  7. @babyada, I felt pity for the possibility of such wanton waste of one’s own life. You have a storytelling gift, but you need to harness and exploit your talent in a more wholesome way. Study more to avoid such grammatical infelicities as pointed out by @petunia007. Also, shards of life? Doesn’t quite jell. Maybe u can say ‘you lost your life in shards’, but not ‘you kept losing shards and shards of your life’. There is a difference. Just such little bits that can mar an otherwise laudable work. Remember that what stands a writer out isn’t necessarily the story told, but how it is told. Weldone.

    Pls go thru mine. I value your input. http://www.naijastories.com/2012/12/okula-a-daughters-vengeance/

    1. @omojola, thanks for stopping by to drop your criticism. I’ve checked your story. It’s quite good.

  8. It is a great story.Best of luck.

    1. @Khadijah, thanks for the compliment. And also thanks for stopping by.

  9. You would be a great story teller.

    1. @kaycee, amen o. From your mouth to God’s ear.

      Thanks for stopping by.

  10. What a poignant tale. I liked it. Sad too, because it’s another example of someone bent on living their life to spite or get at someone else. At the end, I noticed that the narrator finally succumbed to reality and let go. It was subtle. If you could find a way to make it more vivid it could lend more power to the piece.

    As for the typos: I’m sure that you can fix that on rewrite. Goodluck.

    1. @howyoudey, your words are taken. Thanks for stopping by.

  11. Good story. Good writing. Well done. :)

    1. @IdiAce, thanks for the compliment, and for stopping by, too.

  12. This is good. 2nd POV is cool for such stories. I think though that it can be more vivid.

    Well done Eletrika.

    1. Instruction taken. Thanks.

  13. elektrica
    you can tell story.
    Well done!

    1. @Nonso-Uzozie, thanks for the compliment, and also for stopping by.

  14. Eletrika, first I asked you for a link to your tale and you refused… Hmm. Okay o… Shei I found it finally… :)

    Touching story. I felt for the main character.
    Most of it has been said earlier on in terms of the way I think that certain structures should have played out. The plot is nice and the theme great. I get the picture and yes, it brings the whole learning part to literature to bare.
    My major issue is I think that the story could have been more vivid…somehow. How? Who knows… :)
    Well done on this piece. I think we need to get a lot of ladies to read this. It carries the exploration of that saying on forgiveness to a whole new level: To forgive is to set a prisoner free and realise the prisoner was you.
    Well done.

    1. @sueddie, abeg no vex. I couldn’t post the link then because I was making use of my phone.

      Thanks for reading and for the instruction. On my own, I’ll try to see how to make it more vivid.

      Thanks again.

      1. ‘Instruction’? Hee hee hee :)
        Weya o! Every apology accepted. We good. Cheers!

  15. @elovepoetry, just the same way it’s sweetness. Life’s like that.

    1. @aniefiokitong yeah. Sad. At times, life’s like that.

  16. I like. Feels so sad and so real…

  17. @babyada
    a beautiful piece
    love the word verisimilitude………..

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