a luka couffaine love story || completed ✓
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"Music is often simpler than words", he spoke in a soothing tone as he brushed his hair aside.
"But sometimes words are what makes a song complete", I said and smiled at him.
He tilted...
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27th August 2017
P R E E T I
The morning fog was thicker than usual and I was unable to swallow the lump in my throat as I sat on the floor of my room which was devoid of any furniture and most importantly, happiness. It looked dull or maybe it was just a reflection of my sadness. I heard my mom call me from downstairs, "Preeti! The Uber will arrive in 5 minutes! Get ready!". "Okay mum", I replied but my answer was barely audible, even to my own ears. I sluggishly walked towards the door of my room and looking at it, one last time, closed the door. I slowly walked across the hallway and closed all the doors one by one. Memories flashed before my eyes-the jokes I cracked with mom and dad, how we played games together and the countless sleepovers with my friends. Friends. The people I'll miss the most, especially Aisha and Abhinav. God, I feel like wailing like a baby and insisting on staying here rather than going somewhere else.
It was so peaceful in Kolkata aside from the songs being played on loudspeakers on festive occasions or the arguments of our neighbours. In Paris, I already knew I would be plunged into the world of the paparazzi following my every move as I happen to be the daughter of one of the famous designers in France. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for everyone's eyes turning in my direction whenever I walked into a public place, whether it was for getting some fresh air or spending time with friends. But I never got the chance to voice my thoughts at the dinner table just because nobody asked my opinion on this matter. How I wish my parents would have asked me before making all the arrangements but who was I to judge them. Maybe they thought it would be a nice change of environment. Yes, I would be able to spend more family time with both my parents but I just wished that I was brought up in Paris itself if Dad couldn't shift to Kolkata.
The sound of the cab arriving brought me out of my thoughts and, I rushed downstairs, dragged my suitcase behind me and left the entrance door open for mom to lock. Our gardener was here who had promised to look after the plants in our small little garden, out of his affection for nature. Abhi stood near the cab. He looked like he was about to cry for the first time in years. I immediately gave him a bear hug as both our tears betrayed us and spilt over our cheeks. I turned around to see Aisha standing with her head resting against the wall, a common habit whenever she was anxious or angry or was on the verge of crying. Utkarsh tapped her shoulder, signalling that I had arrived and she turned around to show her face- a pink nose, puffy red eyes and tinted cheeks. Without uttering any words, we both wrapped our hands around each other and sobbed on each other's shoulders. I knew she was keeping it all in till this very day. Aisha tried to show that she was okay and cool about me moving to Paris but, I've been her best friend ever since kindergarten so, I knew it was all a façade. We finally looked each other, eye to eye and, she was the first one to speak, "P-Promise me you'll text me every day a-and video chat with me on Saturdays or Sundays." I simply nodded and rubbed my nose on the sleeve of my dress.
"Also, I better be the first one to know who you became friends with and if you finally started crushing on a guy or a girl, not that I will judge or if you finally have a b-boyfriend or girlfriend. O-Okay?", Aisha said in between sniffles.
