A Triangle has three Angles

Zaara

A gaze was all it was ever meant to be and desire ignited flames which would burn woods which housed many animals which weren’t due to die as yet. As I climbed into a more comfortable position between his arm and chest I smelled his hair and the guilt hit in. I felt nauseous for a brief moment, in my stomach like an invisible ball filled with sickly puss which settled along the lining of my stomach.

He looked at me, with warm eyes, eyes that cared, and I slid in deeper in that embrace, that forbidden embrace.

My phone rang and I let it ring the Beyonce tune, voice mail could take that, Saturdays one should not be disturbed even if it is your husband.

Shibeer and I have known each other four months, we met per accident at a work conference, he was at the Johannesburg branch , I was at the Cape Town branch. At the time I was a well still newly wed, blushing and glowing and blissfully happy.

My husband Sameer was everything husbands should be, epiphany of perfection, kind, sweet and trusting, the sort that cooks supper without being told and gives u unannounced massages without complaining.

I loved Sameer.

Shibeer and I happened by accident, a perpetual accident and like magnets were attracted t each other with a force a force that transcended logical judge ment and moral distinctions.

The first time we slept together, I just lay there, no one made me feel so good. Not that Sameer and I lacked in any way, it was just different, forbidden and something that never could happen again. But everytime I flew down, I gravitated to his bachelor pad and we made the same mistake over and over again until the guilt almost became comfortable.

I was two months pregnant, I always wanted children so it hardly came as a shock in the eighth moth of our marriage. Our parents were ecstatic, Sameers mother literally glowed that she was finally going to become a grandmother.

I looked forward to four months of maternity leave, my mum would help out with the baby and I had my full families supprt. Maybe this would even change me, change my behavior and feelings towards Shibeer

Sameer

He met her per accident really. She was standing in front of him at Seattle Coffee shop and was reading the Business papers. Her hair slightly curled at her forehead and her lips were a sft pinky red, her skin lterally glowed, she was cute, curvy, maybe a bit plump but in a cute way that made him want to cuddle her. But her eyes were deep, pretty, no beautiful and like in those corny romance novels it was love at first sight.

So he nearly stalked here until he realized that she would be at this coffee shop every Saturday morning at exactly 8.30 and even though he wasn’t a morning person, he made sure he could get a glimpse of her for 8 Saturdays thereafter, until one day she actually spoke to him, it really started as her asking to read the paper.

She was funny if not a tad bit shy, her fingers were chubby, and she was not wearing the most flattering t shirt, it looked like she had woken up and jumped into a track top, but it didn’t really matter.

He adored her and would always adore her.

Her kisses were soft and enduring, she had infectious laughter at the arbest thins, a tad bit ditzy, smart in that quirky way. She loved him, he could feel it, and she professed it in letters she wrote on pink Garfield paper, maybe it wasn’t as mch as he loved her but it was enogh and that was all that mattered. Love really wasn’t an equation that had to balance out.

Shibeer

It always hurts, but the pain was unbearale at times, so much so that a few times he would literally stalk her. He flowered her to the coffee shop they used to go to and there she sat, with him, him holding a new guys hands, kissing another mans lips and it burnt him, his wound was infected with hurt and hate.

He was not possessive, he was actually qute a gentlemen, kind and sweet, funny and loving.

He had invested a year in her, he bought her flowers and a gold bracelet for her birthday. They even walked past jewelry stores looking at engagement rings, he envisioned it all with her, a home, a wife, a mother, every single thing. She was part of him, such a big integral part, the heart, the main valve, and she had just messed it all up.

He didn’t understand the excuse, it really wasn’t even one, it was a pathetic excuse, it made him feel weak and frustrated, how could she do this to him. Three months he mourned, silently moaned, to his friends and family he pretended to be happy and okay, inside he was decaying.

It was at a work function where he nearly cracked, when he saw her with the new man, at his work function. She was in the same industry as him, but surely she new that his friends and colleagues would be there, did she have no dignity? No respect for him? He rushed out to get a breath of air on an empty terrace and there she stood, her name was Zaara, and she was spewing her ghuts out.

Zaara

She was happy to be going to Joburg, she needed to be away from a perfect ness which was nearly choking. Sameer and her had been married for four moths and she was having second thoughts, serious second thoughts.

He was getting to her. The clinginess, the doing everything togetherness, maybe she really wasn’t the marrying material. Wasn’t that what Adam had told her. Adam was her first boyfriend the one who broke her heart, the one who told her, she just wasn’t the sort of girl you married, the one who messed her up so bad it took a long time to get strong and regain her self respect again.

Adam was in the papers again, some big deal, some millions he brought into Alaan Gray.

Sameer was perfect too perfect and it was bugging her. She took into consideration her period was due, due ay moment now and that usually made her a tad bit irrational, and emotional.

Four days later, it was very over due and in her stay in Joburg she needed to take a pregnancy test after a very embarrassing encounter of spewing her guts out on a balcony at a la did a work event with a man who was kind enough to get her a tissue.