This is a work of fiction.
She was pregnant.
Three years into her marriage and expecting baby number one, she should have been happy. She was happy. Kind of. She had married Andy, an amazing man who loved her a lot…she had a good job…something she liked doing and the baby was doing well as per the last visit to the doctor.
But behind that smile she hid a sadness that no one knew of apart from her. You know, there are some secrets that you just take to your grave. This was one of them.
‘Congrats. Mary told me.I’m so happy for you.’
She read the text again, a tear rolling down her cheek. A text that wasn’t from Andy.
‘Thanks. How are you?’
She bit her lip. He wouldn’t reply back. He never did.
A day later, she got a mail from him while she was at work. It had a link to a simple guitar solo by an unknown artist. She walked into an empty conference room and clicked on play…wondering what it was all about.
Musical notes flowed into the room, rendering her speechless…the guitarist seemed to be in deep turmoil…for she could feel the pain behind the music. She closed her eyes, living each moment as if it was being played live for her. In a way…it was.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she wept quietly.
He didn’t need to reply to her…she already knew how he felt…for he was the guitarist, the love that was lost was in the melody and she was his muse.
She wiped her cheeks and walked out of the the room, wondering how long she could pretend to be happy.