

He saw her standing beside her partner and even he couldn't miss how every touch sparked between them. Not in any visual sense, but rather every touch meant something. There was no fumbling or awkwardness with them, they were so comfortable that they moved and touched in tandem. Always in rhythm, always aware of the other, but never moving too far as to break some invisible tether between them. It had been years since he had seen her, but he could tell that she was happy. He wished his wife was as fluid as the woman before him is. He wondered how he never saw her shine before, how he had let her slip away for this life he had made for himself. No. She does not shine. She is light itself. She attracts it, wears in threaded into her clothes, lighting up a figure that a Goddess would pray to. He remembered the day he broke her. Calling her months after he did because he missed her. The countless times he caught himself on her social media just so he could see her smile again and pretend that it was for him. She remade herself since then, he thought. It suits her.