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We were in love. But we weren’t the only ones. Everyone was in love with the idea of us too. We kept getting advice on ‘How to make it work?’ He loathed advice; such advice ticked him off further. So he resisted listening. He asked me to dismiss it too. But I told him that it wasn’t so easy. We weren’t the only ones in it. He glared at me and marched out of rooms. The audacity that I include others in our somewhat private, somewhat public love affair! But it was the filthy truth. They, men, women and children, were involved. Not just without our consent but without our knowledge. They judged when we fought; they argued on why we fought. They watched our love grow, too. They gossiped about the bedroom secrets. So when our love affair ended abruptly, like mine so often do, they continued to be a part of it. As unwelcome, unwanted guests.

It wasn’t just our relationship. What happened in that relationship wasn’t even the same for both of us. The others drew their conclusions, made their assumptions and retained their side of the story. A story that wasn’t enriched with what happened behind closed doors and within our minds. It was a popular tale that they wished to spread from willing ear to unwilling ear.

So, I wasn’t wrong when I had included them in it. For their version would be the one remembered despite his resistance and my submission.