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A Final Embrace
Today finally came. It had been months since she had last seen him. Text messages, emails and the occasional phone call weren’t enough; she wanted to just lie in his arms with nothing disturbing the moment. Although they lived in the same district, finding time that would work wasn’t easy as neither of their families knew because they would have disapproved of a relationship. Countless nights she had dreamt about this day: the bliss, the relief and that little bit of awkwardness that would disappear within the first few moments. She was dizzy with excitement and had needed a sleeping pill last night to actually sleep. They were to meet at the hotel by seven and have a nice dinner before they had to separate once again.
At half past six he was still in his usual cargo pants and button down cotton shirt. He had been in the jewelry shop as early as three in the afternoon not wanting to be late; he had wanted it to be perfect. But three hours had passed and he was still waiting for someone to bring that little velvet box that changed everything for him. He stood, paced, sat back down, and picked up the magazine from the table next to him. The Bollywood actress on the front was caked with makeup and even after editing there was no comparison between the actress and his girl. His girl; hopefully today that would really come true. He smiled at his memory of her and the receptionist stared quizzically at him. He tried to compose himself but found that it just made him grin more. Five minutes later he was walking out the door, his hand clutching the tiny box containing his future.
She didn’t want to be early; she was generally late for everything, but with nothing to do but wait with anticipation clutching at her throat, she had been at the hotel fifteen minutes before she was due to be there. She waited in the lobby like she planned, but she was so nervous she had gone to the ladies room twice, to splash some water on her face so that she would stop sweating like she had just come after shopping in Bombay instead of from the comfort of the place she called home. While waiting for him she had bitten off four of her carefully painted nails which she had asked her little sister to paint in fear of it not being just quite right. She checked her digital watch she always wore on her wrist; the time said it was 6:59 with just 27 seconds left for seven. She looked up and saw him walking through the revolving door scanning the crowd for her.
He looked to the left, then right before looking straight, into her eyes of melting chocolate. She was as he remembered her: her petite build making her look ever so slightly vulnerable, her round, hazelnut eyes giving her an innocent look, her hair tumbling down past her shoulders nearly reaching her elbows and finally her lips, full and peachy, which brought a series of memories with them, making him grin from one ear to the other. He was in shock from the fact that she was actually here, within fifteen meters from him; so close but so unbelievably far at the same time.
Saying he had changed was an understatement. She really had to look twice to see if it was really him. When they’d met he’d been a skinny fourteen year old and she a shy and slightly giddy thirteen year old. Now however, she saw a man who wore a look of confidence only people who were really confident could carry off. He had a sort of determination in his dark eyes that wasn’t there before. All six feet of him were suddenly there. Not something he’d talk about achieving when she was still growing and he was yet to start getting taller. He must have gained several Kilos of muscle as well because without needing to run her arms along them she could see the faint outline of his biceps through the shirt she had given him for his birthday two years ago. He looked at her and grinned as if remembering something. Seeing him grinning like that she couldn’t help but grin too.
Then the bomb went off.
They were thrown to either side of the lobby, as if there was some force that wouldn’t let them come together. Her body slumped against the back wall, blood gushing from two gashes on her head and on her leg. Her eyes were glassy- almost dead looking. He got thrown back, close to the shards of glass from the revolving doors that several people had landed in, glass sticking out of every inch of them. He had been thrown legs first towards the concierge desk and his knee downwards was pointing in the wrong direction. His head was in a pool of his own blood and there was a vile taste in his mouth after looking at his leg.
He craned his neck to look for her. The throbbing in his head increased and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him before his eyes focused and he saw her.
She saw him upside down; a disoriented look in his previously determined eyes. She used all her strength and pushed herself up with her arms, as her left leg was throbbing, and hurt when she put weight on it. After clawing her way through the obstacle course of people and rubble she reached him and lay down next to him as close as she dared.
He saw her crying on her way to him. He saw her stop several times to wipe her nose on her shalwar kameez before continuing towards him.
When she reached him she wrapped her arms tightly around him. Using his final bit of strength he pulled the box from his pocket and into her hands. She clung at him harder the open box lying between them, a reminder of what would have been if they hadn’t drifted off into an everlasting sleep.
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This article has 8 comments.
instead of the comfort of the place she called home? Other than that, it really reads nicely and I really appreciated you did not call the ring by its name, and only refered to it as “the future” Keep writing,
Monika