A journey towards Independent

Jashmin Lee had sat in a chair in an empty office of a lawyer with rapid heartbeat, different to the beat of the clock above the table. She stood in the middle of a white room with white walls closing in on her, the absence of warmth and friendliness seemed to mock her weak condition. Holding the pen tightly her hand shook and the ink that was spilling was as restless as the emotions she felt inside her. “Are you okay?” the lawyer asked, and Jashmin shook her head barely moving. She could not care for words but clarity seemed to be a memory of laughter she barely remembered a dream that had faded gradually. She drew a breath into her lungs and recalling the times when it did not have to be a burden when she woke up overwhelmed with the warmth of affection. At first, John was everything. He showered her with compliments and love telling her that he would marry her, he took her flowers and wrote sweet things on pieces of paper. Jashmin could still recall their first date it was on a night that she had first known the full weight of love surrounding in her heart. The memory unfolded brightly; the sky was blue, the air was fresh and the passion that was waiting for them behind the veil of the night was waiting for them like a promise of a disarry. A picnic had been constructed that had felt so ideal then, joyous, hopeful and full of the rosy love. He was a kind man with a warm smile on his lips that, if found the shadows in her heart would chase her away. They had constructed their love on extended talks on ridiculous discussions about seasons. But it was that night under the starry night that the rose of their relationship had bloom. “Jashmin,” John had twinkle eye that contained an offer for the much-needed and highly-sought after adventure. “Close your eyes.” She had always been the tricked type willing to follow him wherever his imagination took them. When she finally opened, the scene took hee breath away on a slope of a hill and wrapped fruits that she had personally selected for him. The dim light from candles reflected on them while up in the sky the stars shined like grains of sugar on a black sugar loaf. She said, it’s just a picnic,’ he had smiled, sitting next to her, ‘But I felt it needed magic.’ It was night that they discussed almost everything they wanted to do in the future, as their dreams. John recited poetry that he had memorized word by heart and with passion that seemed to pour out like seeds of sunflowers when someone accidentally drops the flowers. Always a little shy, he would look into her eyes, his own deep-set stare reflecting an affection that felt like summer itself: comfortable, sheltered and eternal. “What did you thik about ‘The Road of Life’?” he explored moving closer to whisper. She said, ‘I suppose as to choices, which shape us,’ “You know, every road splits, it’s a kind of a fork in the road and you never know where it will take you.” He laughed, and the sound fell on the night as gently as leaves falling in the wind. “Ah, but isn’t it the unknown path which we never follow that makes life interesting?” He had his head thrown back and was smiling as bright as the stars in the sky. She heard their laughter mix with the faint sound of the leaves before the darkness of the night swallowed them whole putting them in a world made specifically for two people. When the moon grew higher John began to express his soul by telling stories of love and emotion that she could not believe that there are stories made from anything of a wand. The hours passed and they remained locked into each other’s eyes with laughter and words exchanged through looks which indeed are worth a thousand words. She recollected how under that starry night John had come closer and whispered nice things that cased her heart. “jashmine,” he softly breathed into her ear which made her knees weaken. He said, “I can see the whole world in your eyes like an unbounded beautiful moment." However, that warmth did not last long and then it was replaced by something else. For every second that passed, John’s affection turned into a nail, love now became obsession and she could hardly breathe. Every word could be considered as quite harmless tightened around her like a deprived her of her freedom. And when they got to the wedding; they had exchanged the blooming love which had turned to anxiety. Memories of their wedding day clouded her vision, she could see the pressure that was placed on her. It had been such a beautiful day, she had been dressed in white tulle and lace and surrounded by everyone she loved. However, happiness of marriage did not last long. The first fight began when she said something as simple as giving her space. “Space?” John had echoed, his skin pale. “We’re supposed to be a team. Don’t you want to stay with me?” His voice became louder, and she stopped talking. There was only one thing that she was able to understand that she could feel the tears thick at the back of her eyelids but she could not allow them to fall. “Where are you going?” he often asked when she wanted to attend her friends. Every question was laced with implications suggesting that she was a traitor for wanting to be sociable. Those moments that were turned into battles where she was forced to become a prize that he had to fend off all others for. At times she was able to gather fragments of love in what felt like a dense fog. He used to make her a surprise by bringing her favorite chocolates after from work but those memories started to become painful; it felt like hooks that were piercing her heart and making her realize that the feeling of love couldn’t justify the torture of being emotionally played for several weeks. As determination emerged inside her, she tried to find that final ray of light which had led her here. A holiday where he became gentle and serious for sweet, precious hours the laughter that rang out near the water seemed to be snatched from a life. However, the events turned toxic as he questioned her while having a lot up drinks. At that time, he returned in the cruel form, the past offenses were voiced in the shadows between them. Most times especially in the night he was the man she knew, the husband she married and not the man she knew who had a tongue laden with venom. ‘You will never get someone to love you like me,’ he used to tell her those cold nights. Jashmin breathed out very slowly, her hands trembling, looking at the piece of paper in front of her. This is when she realized it was coming, she could almost taste it like the electricity before a storm preparing to burst through the calm. In the same and final sweep of a gavel across the bench she penned her name, the black ink writing a script from suffering to freedom. It was a relief as if she had taken a shower hearing each letter as the confirmation of her existence. The said ‘I understand, I care and there is hope’. Jashmin raised her eyes through the window and for the first time in quite a long time, she experienced the feeling of confidence that surrounded her like a warm shawl. She was no longer the wife of John; she was Jashmin a woman who had demanded her liberation, a woman who had found her power. She moved from the office to follow her own course, to find the real life. The storm of uncertainty was still pending and she still had not got a clear idea about it, but it seemed like a new beginning. She stepped on; her resolves set; and she had taken steps for her independence.