If you truly love me Ch. 01: David

Knowing this was to be the last time I'd see this particular view from this particular window, I remembered the first time I laid eyes on the panorama spread out before me. I'd been with Holly. We'd stood, side by side, holding hands, our excitement palpable. It was our first night in our new home. Our dream home. The one I'd designed and Holly had decorated. Our baby daughter soundly asleep down the hall.

So many happy memories of how we'd scrimped and saved to make it a reality. Memories of picnics on the lawn while Caitlyn crawled at our feet. Memories of planting flower beds and painting walls. Memories of laughter. Of loving.

The problem was I couldn't help questioning every memory. What had been real? What had been playacting? It was like I'd spent years with my eye pressed to the lens of a kaleidoscope seeing stars and flowers only to have it ripped it from my hands to reveal I was actually standing alone in a war-bombed city.

A sliver of sun was cresting the horizon, and I knew the lights on the bridge would soon be extinguished. To my tired eyes the sun didn't appear to be eager to begin its daily journey across the sky. Instead, it seemed to hover. Perhaps, like Holly, it wasn't a morning person.

Its hesitance paralleled my feelings.

Like the star-filled night, my marriage was over. And like the reluctant sun, I, too, was unenthusiastic about starting the next part of my journey, one I would be making alone.

I lowered my gaze, not wanting more reminders of the slow disintegration of my marriage. I stared at my hands, surprised to see how tightly I gripped the sill. My wedding ring caught my eye, the white-gold glinting silver in the light of the dawn.

I raised my hand, eyeing the ring ambivalently. It was time to remove it. It no longer symbolised a love with no beginning or end. It didn't represent promises made and kept. I slid it off of my finger and held it up, focusing my gaze through its centre. One by one, I framed the orbs of the streetlamps that traversed the bridge. With each one I said a silent goodbye to my old life before drawing my arm back, intending to throw the band out the window.

Straight at the faux Parisienne bridge.

It would have been apt. A ring given in false promises thrown at a false bridge.

I could picture it rolling through the air, giving me brief flashes of silver, before it disappeared from sight. But the reality was it would never reach the bridge. It would never even reach the street let alone the river bank. Holly would probably find it in the garden at some point in the future and knowing Holly, at least the Holly of old, she'd read some kind of hope in having found it.

Thoughtfully, I turned away from the window and surveyed the room one last time. I had a better plan for the ring.

I went into the ensuite and dropped the ring in the toilet bowl. The water muted its shine. Appropriate. On the spur of the moment I decided to take a leak. Even more appropriate.

The ring proved as persistent as Holly and her calls. It took a couple of goes and a bit of help from the toilet brush to finally flushed it away.

I washed my hands, smiling all the while. It was the happiest I'd felt in weeks.

Now, that was apt, David. Holly crapped all over the marriage and now you've pissed on the symbol of that marriage that she gave you.

Two small suitcases rested on the end of the bed. Taking a deep breath, I crossed the expanse, grasped my bags, and left. My new life awaited me.