Romantic Love Stories

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Until Max Came Along

by

M.D Zigo

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romantic love stories

Grand Dad's best quote was one by Gosiah G Holland. It read:

''The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world is a woman's heart.''

I never really understood him until I met Bettina. When I met her I knew about this precious possession.

When I met her, I knew I had a precious possession. I had Bettina- her heart. I had it until Max came along. And when he did, I understood what our earth can become, when that precious possession no longer belongs to us.

I lost it. And have been looking forward to have it again. That's why I came to this busy restaurant in the heart of Stockholm, on a very cold, cold night.

Bettina was at the restaurant. With her friend Chimney. Chimney! I didn't really like Chimney. I had never liked her. Every time I thought of her, only two words- a phrase, actually, came to my mind:

''Bad Influence''

Chimney was not her name. It was a nickname one of my friends had given her because of her smoking habit. If you wanted to see what smoke looked like, you didn't have to look further away from her head!

She had a big mouth. Not big as in ''BIG'' and there was always a cigarette in that mouth. I didn't like her hanging out with my wife. Alas, how was I going to stop my wife when she'd already left me?

I watched them as they girlishly chatted and giggled. Why did Bettina have to look so great - so happy, while I looked so sad and sick of love - my love for her -my inability to win back her heart? Why did she look so happy when our wonderful marriage had been flushed down the drain?

Almost six months had gone by since Bett and I separated. All efforts to get her back had gone in vain. But I didn't give up trying. There's a saying that ''never say never.'' I knew how much I loved her and I was never going to stop persuing her.

As I sat there, as I prepared to approach her another time, I had a flash back of the events that resulted to our present predicament.

Our problems started on a Saturday afternoon, in the month of July, right in the heart of summer. We'd spent an entire day criss-crossing the beautiful city of Stockholm, and were about to return home when our son, Arvid asked a surprising question:

''Dad, Dad, someone's kissing mum! Who's he?''

I turned around and saw a man I didn't know kissing my wife Bett, in an intimate way.

At first I decided to match to the scene, and pull them apart in the most ungentleman-like mannner. I was about to embark on this when the kissing stop and they started to beam at each other in a way that made me most uncomfortable.

Disappointed and jealoused, my next action was to match there and do something nasty- like punch the guy on the face (the last time I did that I broke a guy's jaw bone and invited the Swedish Police and even threatened to break down my marriage).

Again, I was almost about to do this when common sense prevailed. I turned towards Arvid.

''Arvid, look after your kid brother, please.''

Arvid nodded. I composed myself and walked over to the scene of the incident.


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