The Funeral

   I stood beside the open coffin, looking at the face of the man I had been married to. Our marriage had taken place months ago in this same church and now I was back here, this time with him lying stiff and cold.

But, I wasn't the young widow you would expect. In fact, I was very far from it. I watched the coffin with a raised brow and clear eyes, with no traces of tears in my eyes.

It had been an arranged marriage back then. None of us liked each other, or even wanted to give each other a chance. We ignore each other at home, and when I mistakenly crossed his path, he made sure I never did it again.

I remembered the first time we went out together before the marriage, and we ordered food at a French restaurant. I was eating, since none of us felt like saying anything to the other, we had completely given our food all the attention. Until he suddenly stood and asked for the bill.

The waiter came with the bill and he paid it, then looked up at me. 

"Finish your meal and go back home." He said and started to walk away. 

He didn't go too far when I suddenly blurted out, "I like science," I said.

 It was true. The entire concept intrigued me, and even though I hated this just as much as he did, I wanted to at least not be stuck with an enemy for the rest of my life.

I thought it would be nice. His late father was a renowned scientist who I never met since he apparently died before the arrangement, and I thought it would feel nice to know his wife to be was interested in it too.

"That just makes you even worse," He answered to my surprise. By the time I turned, he had already made it out the door.

That was when I knew that it was all hopeless.  Trying to get close to him was hopeless. The very thing I didn't want to be bound to was what he wanted to bind me to and I had no objections.

Now he was dead from an accident on a rainy night. I had been surprised that my young, merely 25 years old, healthy husband was suddenly dead, but the sadness was the part that I failed in. I just couldn't muster any of it, it was almost like hearing that a complete stranger was dead. Except the complete stranger this time was my husband.

After the wake, I left the church, my fatigue getting the best of me. I walked away, knowing that the house would be empty. Almost the same way it had been even while he was around. Empty. loveless. Dark. It wouldn't be too hard to handle.

I got home and changed fron the black attire to a light night gown, and lay in bed, my palm supporting my head. The lustre of the mansion did nothing to make it habitable, and it was when I lay in bed that night, that the tears fell down in torrents.