Second Chance

There was nothing unusual about the traffic that day. In fact, there was nothing unusual about anything. He must have travelled that road innumerable times, yet the distance today seemed so long. The nasty snarls of the vehicles passing by pierced his ears like sharp arrows. His grip on the wheel was getting painfully tight, as if he feared something would slip out of his hands. His face muscles would tighten too, with every passing thought. The thought of the terrible last night he spent. There have been a lot of such nights in the recent past. Each night made him detest the very thought of existing on this earth. Why on earth is he living? What for, and for whom? He was crying, deep inside, for he knew his world was crumbling, like a pack of cards. The world he built, so passionately. The world he built, with his love. Love, his love; whom he held so close to his heart. It hasn’t been like this a few months ago. Everything was fine. They lived so happily in the new home they had bought. He was so thankful to god for giving him his love. He was married to the girl he loved. And she too loved him, yes, he knew it, he believed it. He remembered the romantic evenings he spent with his wife, sometime in a restaurant, but most of the times at home. She would keep everything ready even before he returned. His favorite food, his wine, she knew how to seduce him. Oh god! Everything was so fantastic. He thought he was the most blessed. And today, he thought he was better dead.  And today, the love between them was lost. He clinched his fists and pressed his jaws, “NO, I don’t want to lose her, oh! God help me…”
He suddenly heard a whistle. Oh god! He is already in the basement of his office. He had no idea how he reached. He got out of his car and pushed the door as if he is never going to use it again. He walked meekly towards his cabin. Any greetings he got on his way were not answered. He slumped in his chair and closed his  eyes. The storm of thoughts in his mind made him shiver. “Honey, did you go shopping today?” he asked. “Have I ever gone shopping without you?”, came the answer in the form of a question from the kitchen, while he was still gazing at a set of ear-rings in her closet. They looked costly, and they knew nobody who could gift them. “Oh, I am sorry!! I just saw these ear-rings in your closet, so I asked”, he expected clarification. “Aren’t they pretty, honey? They belong to Cathy. I borrowed them for a day.” What a idiot I am, doubting my wife. He shrugged the thought which only intensified when, next day, in the jogging park, Cathy said “What ear-rings? May be you should ask Freddie.”
“You ok? What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you been watching those reality shows on the TV all night.” His friend shook him up. “And what seems to be the problem buddy? Come on!  tell me, something wrong between you and Nancy?” Hey, dude! Let it out. May be I can help…”
It wasn’t easy. He hadn’t shared this with anyone. He sat up in his chair and looked straight in his friend’s eyes.
“Ed, how long you been married?” he asked.
“Why, it’s been 7 years I guess. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You ever felt your wife was cheating on you?
“Gosh!!! So, this is what’s eating your mind..I know…happens in everyone’s life. “
“It happens to everyone. So it’s happening to me. You are saying nothing wrong”, he asked in disbelief.
“ Yes,  it has happened to me too. May be coz somewhere inside we all are possessive. “
“Possessive? You mean I am just being possessive? What about all those things I saw. The calls, the texts, the gifts, god knows what else?”
“You ever sat across your dining table and spoke to your wife about it? I guess not. Possessive people don’t do that. They just assume their spouse is cheating on them. You know what? Every time I doubted my wife, I was wrong. I regretted it a lot later. Give life a second chance, buddy. You only live once.”
His friend left his cabin, leaving him all alone there and wondering if what he was doing was insane. He felt like in the middle of a vast ocean, in a boat left at the mercy of winds. Is he possessive, just possessive? Is he just seeing things that don’t exist? What rubbish?
His reflection in the glass pane was mocking at him, as though the question now in his mind was “how could you do this?” Has he been the cause of all the despair? He kept thinking about it all day. Should he give life a second chance? Should he just forget everything that happened and start loving his wife all over again? A desire to rekindle his love and rejuvenate his life was replacing the pain in his heart. He told himself “Everything is going to be alright. We can shift to another city and start it all over again.”
The clock stuck six in the evening. He couldn’t wait to get back home. He wanted to hug her and say sorry. Take her in his arms and tell her how stupid he had been. His heart was overwhelmed by love as though it was the first time he was going to meet her. Oh God! This damn traffic, why is it so busier this evening? It’s going to be dark before he reaches home. He also wanted to buy a bouquet for his wife. She loved flowers, and he knew a bouquet of red roses would melt down all the differences between them. He pulled his car round the corner and virtually jumped out of it. He ran to the florist and picked the best bouquet available there. It was a little over eight, and the remaining distance to his home was already starting to bear a deserted look. He rushed to his car which seemed to be the only vehicle parked in the lot. As he approached, he saw a figure emerging before his eyes. He saw him standing with his rested on his car. Who’s this stranger? What does he want? The man was well dressed and had a smile on his face.
“Hello, do I know you?”
“No, you don’t. I am Freddie,” replied the stranger.
The sparkling sharp blade of the knife in Freddie’s hand caught his eyes, and the next moment the excruciating pain in his stomach made him feel weak in his knees. He was stabbed. He was dying. His world was crumbling. He fell on the ground and his eyes started closing automatically. He could rather feel all his senses snapping like weak cables in the air. Perhaps, his hearing ability was the last to leave him, for he could hear a voice saying “Is he dead?” The same voice which soothe him all his life. How could he not recognize it! “Nancy, did you do this?”