The One

He knew from the moment they met that she was his, would always be his. It was the way she said he was "the one", the one she was waiting for her entire life and had almost given up on ever finding. He told her that she was also "the one" and that in fact he had given up on finding that special person. The last bit, at least was true, for he didn't believe in "the one" any more. Not after multiple "ones" had passed through his life. So it was with that small lie that his guilt rested. He knew he wasn't being completely honest with her about the basis of their relationship --- the "big love" as they called it --- but he felt he was being as honest as he could be. After all, if not a great love, she was good enough. A good apple compared to the rest. He recognized he had won in this relationship, she would follow him anywhere, do anything, compromise her virtue and dignity for him. He was careful never to abuse this power, be he knew he had it and from time to time indulged. As time passed, his self awareness of this power receded and it just became the status quo. He wanted to move to the city, so they moved, to a nice two bedroom flat near the wharf. He poured his energy into his career, his travels, his flirtations. She took a job that allowed her to be available for him. To make dinner on the nights he came home, to watch the movies he liked, to give him space when he needed a boys night out. She cut her hair short short, when he was into that, then long long when he liked to pull. She would match her outfits to his, telling herself that he just didn't have a sense of style. He would travel a lot, staying away on weekends in order to visit friends in remote cities, leaving her with the kids and the TV. She did a good job taking care of the house and making sure the kids were raised the right way. He did a good job at taking care of himself. One day his boss asked him fly somewhere unexpectedly, so he stopped home to pick up his overnight bag, which she always maintained for him. There was no one home when he got there, a bit unexpected since it was the Oprah hour and his wife did like that show. He grabbed his bag and rushed to the street to call a cab. He then saw his wife, sitting in a café, having coffee with a mutual friend. She looked really happy and relaxed. He didn't think much of it, and went on his way. When he returned home the next day, he asked her how long she's been having lunch with the friend. Her face went from relaxed to tense, her mind racing, trying to decide what lie to tell. She decided not to hide, that they've been having lunch "for a while" and are "really good friends". The husband found this surprising; it wasn't like her to hide anything from him. He joked with her, "really good friends, eh" with the innuendo just hanging there. They often played the innuendo game when she said "well, more than friends" he was totally, completely, 100% caught off guard. He sat down. She told him the whole truth, as much as he could bear hearing anyway. When she was done, he was left staring blankly forward, too much in shock to even cry. But what about "the big love" he said, that he was "the one". What happened? She told him that when they met, she was obsessed with him, couldn't get enough of him. That she mistook that for love and once she realized it, it was too late. She was addicted to the obsession and would, and did, everything for him. More than anything she wanted the obsession to stop, so that she could stop. Then one day, almost magically, she realized this obsession was gone, that she got herself back. She learned to indulge herself and take care of herself. The marriage, to her, was now one of convenience, something to provide the kids with a stable family, enable her to only have to work part time, provide her with a nice retirement and medical benefits. "So you love this guy", the husband asked. She said no, that he's just a guy, they have fun together in ways he wouldn't understand. She wasn't bored with him yet, but was getting there and then it would be time to make a new friend.