There’s always this special ingredient about comfortable silence. It isn’t an exact aspect you can place your finger on, and yet, it is the one thing which makes you want to come back for more.
Come back more for what?
Happiness? Satisfaction? [*Insert any other happy-feels emotion*]
I don’t know.
What I do know is, it’s rare to find someone who knows what you’re thinking without you having to utter those feelings. That connection is either there, or it’s not… It cannot be forced nor can it be created. Its nature of existing naturally is what sets it apart from the other sentiments.
And I let go of it.
As I go through our old pictures, I mentally kick myself a million times (and more) for taking a decision which is probably going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Unless, she would agree to be a part of it, which I’m sure she wouldn’t. She had loved me fiercely, in a gentle manner… like no other; what do I do? I break her.
She stood by me through everything. Whenever I needed someone, she was there. Her dainty hands would clasp mine, and I swear to God, I miss that. To know that someone could love so selflessly, it used to make me live through the bad phases.
And now, although everything seems to be fine, it isn’t.
I don’t know if …. Oh wait, my phone just buzzed. It’s her.
“How’re you?” reads her text.
How am I? Pathetic. Sad. Lonely – and that’s all because I’m here, without you.
I know that she cares about me. If I reply, she might begin to … think.
Do I want that to happen? I wouldn’t want to hurt her ever again, so should I keep my distance? Or, should I go with what my heart really wants to do – take her in my arms and not let her go?
I read somewhere, that those who broke you will never be the ones to fix you. But, what if both the parties involved were broken, only to emerge into an even stronger unit? What if I never meant to break her in the first place; what if I never wanted to leave; what if …?
“What if”. This very question drives me up the wall, and on that note, I make my decision.
“Hi, I’m good. What about you?”
As I wait for her reply, I can literally hear my heart thumping like a Bongo being beaten really hard.
I hear a ping.
“Dear MTNL customer, bla bla.” Damn.
“I’m getting married.”
We’re not even 25. Why so early? Why do I feel my heart sinking like stuck inside a huge patch of quicksand? Why is she getting married? Who is this lucky chap and what is stopping me from killing him?
I feel betrayed for some twisted reason, and at the same time, I am suddenly filled with an adrenaline rush, which dries up soon enough. Maybe I should just resign to my fate and bear the brunt of my major folly. Or, I should walk into its face and win back the angel who I cannot live without.
“Congratulations” is what I send as a reply.
“Come outside.” Her reply is almost instantaneous. I get up and walk through the door, and there she is.
She was wearing white today. My angel. Her eyes are … red and puffy?
She sees the change in my expression. Sobbing, she reaches out for me and I engulf her, as if it is the most natural thing to do. I look at her; she looks so cute even while crying. Her eyes look so damn sensuous. Her eyes also remind to murder whoever put her in this state.
“Why” is the only thing she says; it isn’t a question.
That is when I stumble upon the realisation that she is still in love with that bugger, that ass who doesn’t deserve to be loved by a gem like her. Before I can tell her about how she is what my life revolves around, she says, “Not if you’re not ready to hold me forever, this time. Prove it to me.”
I am no longer surprised at the way she can read my mind. I have more important things at hand now.
How do I prove it to her?
I smile to myself, and gently shut the diary. It’s been 5 years now, and here I am, sitting in the same bar. This time, nothingness is being drowned in oodles of alcohol and yummy food, and as I begin to stir my drink, I look up, and there she is.
It’s her. She sways towards me, takes the seat opposite mine and looks at me with a mysterious expression.
“Hi”, she says. “What’s your story?”
“Hi. I’m just another guy in a bar.”
“Should I reply exactly how Meredith Grey did, in Grey’s anatomy?”
“Oh shit, I was hoping you wouldn’t get the reference.”
“Go home or else your family will worry”, she said, childishly
“I’ll be there. Today is my anniversary, my beautiful wife must be waiting for me.” I said, grinning.
“I’m sure.. anyway, I’m exhausted, I’ll leave. Bye!”
And she leaves.
I reach home and see that our living room is decorated with colourful balloons and glittering streamers. There’s a gigantic cake on the table, but she is nowhere to be seen.
She’s a sleepy little thing. Maybe she has slept off, and when I enter, I am proven right. I laugh inwardly, change into my night suit, and remove an incomplete card from her hands, the one which probably put her to sleep. I turn around to look at my wife, the mother of my twin girls. She is fast asleep. I run my fingers through her silken hair which drapes her angelic face oh so beautifully. Gently moving the tendrils off her lips, I wonder how I would’ve kept my sanity if not for her.
I did manage to prove it to her, and thank god for that! The diary entry stops there because this lady left no time for me to do anything else except for wooing her, and rightly so. From solving crosswords together, reading books out loud (it’s pure torture, I tell you) to convincing her parents that I wasn’t the same man who broke their daughter’s heart – I did it, and I know that I deserved to go through that grind. I will not go into details; what matters is that it ended well, and began amazingly.
But, it was worth it.
It will always be worth it. I smile to myself, and start to turn around to not disturb her slumber, when I feel her dainty fingers reaching for me. She snuggles into me.
“I left in a hurry because I had to decorate everything. There’s a big cake. Happy Anniversary, baby.” she mumbles.
“Happy Anniversary, my universe.” I whisper, my heart bubbling with happiness. And in that moment, I swear I was complete.
Photography By: Kanika Narang