Mr. Stud has been trying to sleep for hours. The flickering light on his bedside table seemed to harmonise with his incessant breathing. He tossed and turned a few times and pressed his head against the soft pillow resting on top of him, closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything else. He failed.
Confusion kept him awake. It was two o’clock in the morning. The night was cold and quiet but his heart kept thumping like a beating drum – loud, plangent. He was scared—no, he was unsure.
Today is his wedding day. The unplanned union to make things right, an agreement he has to sign to avoid judgment and mockery, to save what’s not meant to be destroyed. But he was not thinking about his future wife, no; he was thinking about someone else, someone from his past. A girl he once loved.
A few days ago, he sent her a message about the wedding. He had hoped that she would ask him to stop and come back to her instead, that they could leave everything and everyone behind without feeling guilty about it. He was willing to take that risk, only if she’d let him. But the sun will rise soon and still she didn’t answer.
“Please, please.” He muttered to himself sighing deeply as he moved from side to side, his breath jagged in every turn. He kept staring at his phone, patiently waiting for an answer that could change his life.
The memories of his past love flooded his mind. The empty promises he made danced like haunting figures on the ceiling of his room. A life with regrets is probably isn’t a life at all and what’s worse is that it’s too late. He could cry a thousand tears and wish for another chance to set things right but nothing would matter now.
He waited long enough. A few more hours passed and the morning sun started setting over the horizon. Mr. Stud kept his eyes closed but the ray of the sun permeating through the window’s aperture interrupted his thoughts. He argued forcefully to the idea of getting up and buried his face in the comfort of his pillow.
Mr. Stud remained in that position for a good 30 minutes before deciding to get out of his bed. He fixed his unkempt hair, folded the bed sheets neatly and stood up. He gave a final look at his phone and smiled bitterly. “I guess it’s never meant to be.”
That day, Mr. Stud waited for his bride at the altar with a stipulated smile on his face. He could feel the bitter taste of remorse in his mouth. Maybe this is his punishment, or a chance for retribution. He did the right thing and he’ll keep telling that to himself for the rest of his life.
— — — — — — — — — —
“Doing the right thing broke his heart. This is his atonement”