Ten years made of a year of solid friendship, two years of courtship and seven years of marriage. That’s what it came down to, as we stood before a room full of strange people dressed in black and white, for whom we were reduced to just another case of “Divorce By Mutual Consent”. Ironically, that is what the past two years had become, black and white, with no shades of grey, in any sense of the now uber-popular phrase.

Looking back, the last seven years have been a turmoil; we both ended up being people we never were, possibly a sign that we both refused to see from the start, that we were never meant to be anything to each other but close and caring friends. However, it would’ve been wrong to say our relationship was platonic; the courtship had moments that I continue to cherish, but that is a story that will stay between him and me forever.

Although I married a not-even-close-to-perfect man that I truly believe I needed and had in my life, he was my first many things. And even though there will be people better than him, he will continue to be my first everything as a young adult, and for that I choose to remain eternally grateful to him.

With all of that behind me now, and after feeling everything from affection, to respect, to utter annoyance, disgust, and even hatred, I have come to terms with the episode that I endured, the longest and possibly the bitterest of my life. The journey of healing has been difficult; the social setup we live in make it very suffocating to be ourselves at times like this. I fell, I stumbled, I limped back on my feet, but most importantly, I learnt how to take care of my dignity. And I learnt how to ensure that the relationship I was in was never maligned; it may have ended, but it left me a much mature, grown up and better person. I still may not know what I am looking for, but after him, I know what I categorically don’t want.

Being married to a rather possessive person, it meant for 10 years, friendships became warzone in the relationship, and such relationships were being practised as secret cult meetings. Despite it all, and although they are not physically around, I had my “guys” whenever I needed them. When I chose to feel loved, it rained affection.

And I am glad, despite all that happened, he and I still have the maturity and blessings to continue being each others 2 AM friends, a promise I made with no malice, guilt, or regret. I’m happy for him too, being the person who broke him down, and made him cry (Yes, I do feel the pain despite being wronged through it all), I’m glad I can still wipe away his tears and be there for him. After all, weren’t we supposed to stay like that anyway?