El Misterio de la Felicidad
“There’s the one who loves and the one to be loved,” said Laura who knows that her husband will never come back. She just needs to know why he left so she can move on. Meanwhile, Santiago seeks answers why his best friend, Laura’s husband, left while they’re at the apex (or so he thinks) of their lives–a booming business, a laidback lifestyle, and a happy friendship. Both just need reaffirmation that Eugenio is safe and happy even without them beside him. That Laura and Santiago are complete even without Eugenio. That by leaving, all of them can be whole again. If only that’s easy–to let go a part of you so you can be whole.
Mariana and Martin, stuck in the grayscale paradise that is the city, find the sense of living, and themselves, while recovering from their past relationships. In the urban canvas of Buenos Aires, it’s hard to find the space where you belong, how much more yourself? So the two just blend with the iridiscent landscape of the city while waiting for something magical, perhaps love–always love–to change their dull lives. They met each other, of course, but it took them years of self-doubt and loathing that they, as those who were left behind, deserve their suffering but not any answers. It is really hard to fit in when you’re not complete.
The one left behind bothers him/herself with explanations that, in the first place, s/he deserves. Why is the burden of truth should be carried by those who stayed? When someone leaves you without even hums and haws, the questions you ask are actually the answers themselves. So you just stay silent and disturbed. You let the pain find the answers within you. The search is so long that you become the pain.
Leaving someone is uneasy, a decision so big it makes one’s world small. Such event, as seen through the eyes of those left behind, is a blinding moment of betrayal. That by staying where s/he left you, you can find some answers. Yet when you sift through the border of your relationship, you see all things past and future, nothing present. Really, when you’re the one left behind, it’s not the incompleteness that pains you. It is the silence of the end.