Your Love is a Lie

Running her hands through her messy hair, Melanie slowly walked down the stairs in the house she’d lived in for over two years, the place she’d begun to call her own. Glancing over at the pictures lining the stairwell, she refused to start crying as her eyes landed on the last picture in the line, taken only a few months earlier, on a beach in Florida.

Shaking her head as a disbelieving smile graced her lips, she skipped down the rest of the stairs and walked straight into the kitchen, not even bothering to care about the shoes that were lying haphazardly laying in the middle of the hallway. Seeing the notes lying on the counter, she did no movement to pick them up; she already knew what was written on them; phone numbers and raunchy messages. For her fiancé.

Preparing her own breakfast, she knew what she had to do. In all honestly, she’d known if for months, since she first started to feel the need to wait up till the early hours of the morning because he never called and canceled his plans any more, he just didn’t show.

Asking him about it didn’t help, he just claimed to have been caught up with training or a friend called and he had to go. So she didn’t bother anymore. Even if he tried to cover it up, she knew. She always knew. He could fool everyone else, but from the moment they met she’d been able to read him like a book. According to himself, his mother couldn’t even read him like she could. Every time he lied, she knew. She told him it was in his eyes, but that was only half the truth. It was in his voice, his low, accented tone that made her weak in the knees from the second she’d heard it. His guilt, whether or not he knew about it or, always shone through.

Walking back into the bedroom where he was still passed out on his side of the bed, still in the clothes from the previous night she shook her head slightly, she loved him, she really did. But there was a line every woman reached and when she reached it, enough was enough.

Pulling out the bags she’d packed the previous afternoon, she slowly walked over to her bedside table and carefully pulled out a letter from the drawer. Looking at the plain white envelope with his name scrawled across the front, she sighed softly before standing up and placing it on top of the dresser in the room. Looking down at her hand, a tear escaped her eye as she gently slid off the simple, yet gorgeous single diamond engagement ring he’d given her nine months earlier, when he asked her to marry him. Right after they’d secured their place as Champions. He said it was the best night of his life, his career was sparkling more than ever and he had his perfect woman by his side.

Apparently she was easier to replace than she’d realized.

Placing a soft kiss on the stone, she placed the ring on top of the envelope and walked over to the bed, placing a soft kiss on his forehead and gently ran her fingers through his hair that was softer than most people realized. “I love you,” she whispered softly before standing up and grabbing her bags, knowing that even if her heart was breaking now, this would be for the best.

Moments later she was sitting in the car that had been a birthday gift from him, driving down the freeway and heading south from the city, knowing that she would have at least a few hours of a head start before he would realize she wasn’t there. There like she used to be every time he went out. He was never drunk, but he still managed to behave like he got a hang over. Once she’d thought it was cute, lately it was just annoying.

But it wasn’t, she loved him. He could still be the most annoying jerk on the planet and she would still find it adorable. But like she said, enough was enough.

Walking up, he groaned slightly as he rolled onto his back, wondering why the hell no body was answering the phone. “Mel!” he yelled through the house, hoping she would make the ringing stop.

But as the ringing continued, he cursed under his breath before dragging himself out of the bed and towards the phone that, as usual, was resting on the dresser.

“Hello?” he barked as he picked it up, only to be greeted by a dial tone. The bastard on the other end had hung up. About to go back to bed, he noticed something sparkling next to him. Picking it up, he frowned slightly; it was the engagement ring he’d given Mel when he asked her to marry him.

She never took it off, so why was it on the dresser. Seeing the envelop with his name on it, written in her distinct scrawl a smile played on his lips as he picked it up before walking out of the room, deciding he might as well get something to eat if he was up.

Passing through the house that they’d decorated together, he found that something was off, the thing that sealed the hunch was the fact that he actually tripped on his own shoes. Something he hadn’t done for years, long before Melanie walked into his life and turned his world upside down with just one look.

Continuing into the kitchen, he thought back to the day they’d met. He was at Old Trafford for an emergency interview after a bad tackle in the game the day before, one that got him sent off. And she’d been there for the regular arena tours. He’d made the mistake of not waiting for the security guard to follow him back down to his car and managed to run straight into the group as they were entering the press-room.

As soon as they noticed who he was, it was a free for all, people of all ages flocking around him, mostly to see if it was actually him. But not her. He thought it was because she didn’t care, but she later told him it was because she was shy and actually was scared of approaching him. But it made her stand out and he looked over at her, their eyes locking for what seemed like an eternity, before she smiled slightly and a bright blush flushed her cheeks and she quickly turned away from him.

He thought he would never see her again, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, so he cornered the organizer of the tours and sweet talked her into telling him who the mysterious girl had been, and if he could get a hold of her. He found that she wasn’t from around Manchester, but was on a vacation, but they had her email.

A few white lies and she were back at The Theater of Dreams and he was waiting, the rest is as they say history. He took her out on a date and even though she thought the whole thing was a ploy, he persisted and soon she was living with him. Many thought that she only wanted his money and the fame that came with dating a footballer, but he knew better, she hated the public part of him, the part that was in the papers. But she loved him, really loved him, loved him like he’d never thought anyone could or would love him.

Glancing around the kitchen, a chill went down his spine as he noticed how cold everything seemed all of a sudden. Trying to shake the feeling, he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, smiling slightly as he saw her familiar scrawl on it too. A smile that fell as he began reading...

“One night I fall asleep in the couch as I'm waiting for you, the next, I fall asleep in the entertainment room as I wait for your call and the third, I don’t even care.

I’ve realized something, whilst I love you, you don’t seem to love me anywhere near as much. I’ve done everything under the sun to please you, even though I always promised myself that I would never settle. A strange word to use when it comes to you, millions would kill to be where I am. To be the person you come home to.

But for me that isn’t enough. I can’t have you half the night, because I know that I deserve to be with someone who wants to be with me the entire night.

If I ask you where you’ve been, you're evasive and just don’t bother to answer me. I pick up your jacket and notes fall out on the floor. Sometimes you don’t even bother hiding them. I know who you are, and I know that despite the fact that you're going to marry me, girls still want to be in your ‘Little Black Book’. It’s a fact that has never bothered me, because I had the knowledge before I even met you.

You kiss me and it just doesn’t feel like it did only a few months ago. I can feel that you're not with me anymore.

Sometimes you tell me stories so elaborate that I can’t help but think that they must be the truth, even though I know they’re not. When you use your teammates as you alibi, make sure that they know it, so that they don’t come around asking if I know where you are.

You once told me that I was even better than your mum at seeing when you were lying. That I could read you like an open book. That’s not how I know; it’s your voice that gives you away. Every time you lie, there’s a tint of guilt in it, only ever when you do it to me, I don’t even think you know. I’ve heard you lie many times, but the guilt only seeps in when you're lying to me. At first I didn’t notice it, then you did something and I can’t even remember what it was, but you’d lied to me about something and after that I caught you every time.

So don’t bother to deny it, because I will never believe you.

I just have one question, how do you feel when you kiss someone else? Knowing that I trust you and I'm waiting at home for you? Do you even think about me when you fuck the latest of your conquests?

The woman always knows... You didn’t do it at first; you only started a few months ago. At first I thought it was a slip up, that you’d tell me about it and we’d work through it. I thought our love would take it. Then the lies became frequent and I stopped asking. I was stupid enough to think that you loved me, loved me enough to tell me if something was wrong. I guess I was the one who was wrong.

You can save your breath, you don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t a mistake, once is a mistake. Months of cheating is just... it’s just cheating, and in your case a lot of lies. Don’t bother trying to say sorry or try to make it right.

Because it’s just too late. Too little, too late.

When you came home tonight, you said that you loved me, but you don’t, not really. Because you don’t intentionally hurt the people you love. And you can tell me it ‘just happened’ but I know. You weren’t satisfied with something, and you only deserve the best, because that’s who you are. So you went looking for something else, hurting me in the process. It was probably never your intention, and if it was, you're not the person I thought you were.

You say you love me, but your love is just a lie. It’s nothing but a lie.

I say I love you, and it’s the truth, I love you. I’ll probably always love you, not that it matters, because when you're reading this, I'm not going to be there anymore. And I'm not going to be in neither Manchester nor England anymore. Tomorrow, you’ll probably get a call saying that your BMW is parked in the garage at Heathrow Airport in London and someone needs to get it or they’re going to tow it.

I'm not doing this to spite you, because I love you. I'm doing this because even though I love you, I have to think about myself first. And in doing that, I can’t live with you or marry you, not when you obviously don’t love me enough to not cheat on me.

So this is goodbye.

I love you, Cristiano

xxx Melanie”

Finishing the letter, Cristiano noticed that he was crying. His love wasn’t a lie, he did love her, he loved her so much it hurt sometimes. He could be staying up during the night, just watching her sleep. She looked like she was an angel when she slept, her blond hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head like a glory.

And yet, she was right, he had been cheating on her for months. He didn’t even know why.

Or, that was a lie, he did know. Because even though he was who he was, he still never felt like he was worthy of her. She was the type of woman your mother wanted you to meet, to have her grandkids with. The type of woman who deserved everything. And whilst he had the money for close to everything, he never felt like he could be everything.

So his love wasn’t a lie, but he was. Because he lied and cheated on the only woman who’d ever wanted him for him, and not for what he could give her. She loved the boy inside, the boy who still just like to play with a ball in the backyard, doing tricks and step-over’s. She never enjoyed the public side of his life; in difference to all the other women he’d dated. The once who enjoyed that side the most and hated the part of him that just wanted to stay home and play FIFA08 on Xbox. The boy that Melanie loved.

And he cheated on her, because he thought that she deserved better.