His Scandalous Bride

8: Now

Saddiq was staring long and hard at his rather unexpected reality lying quite comfortably on his legs. He was trying hard to decipher what he felt and what he had expected to feel on such intrusion. Nothing was coming to mind despite the million questions and feelings he wanted unraveled. They seemed futile at that very moment. Later, he would ask why he was chosen and she would tell him there was nothing special about her reason. He wouldn't believe, at least not entirely, but he wouldn't question her reason. It was enough that she was by his side. It was enough that she chose him. However, tonight he was staring;

And wondering what was it about her which was making him lose sight of himself.

His conclusion was obvious. He couldn't be sane. What sane person would risk losing everything for a stranger merely a week old in their life? A stranger who might never hold onto him when push turns to shove. A stranger who could disappear this very instant and he wouldn't even know where to start looking. A stranger wrapped in an ocean of deception he could drown. Yet he was staring. . .and wondering,

And then he thought about cigarettes.

It's strange. He doesn't even smoke; maybe once or twice when he'd rebelled at sixteen—more for its famed aphrodisiac than it was for its toxic wrist, but not anymore. Perhaps it has something to do with the packs of cigarettes always within his reach—he might not like to smoke but he has always loved the smell of unlit cigarette; it helps him think best when he has one trapped within his lips. Or perhaps it was a memory.

The twins enjoyed smoking. Marijuana. It was the only vice they had all shared; Saddiq lived in utter fascination of technological strides, Sameer was more into books and movies focused on dying and death, and Sayeed was more into daredevilry and mischief. It was a rather unique experience.

They would meet once a month and for an hour; no more, no less, to smoke. The date and location was chosen randomly; Sunset on a beach,  sunrise on a road in the middle of nowhere, on a safari—each different, each exotic. And on such days, Sayeed smoked like a sailor curses; arrogantly, persistently, in careless abandonment while Sameer smoked romantically —slowly, gently, in rapturous infatuation. He would stand in the middle like an island with his hands wrapped around each their necks and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips feeling like the luckiest person on earth.

They called it, 'sexy dalliance with death', this once a month ritual in indulgence.

He had never quite grasp the madness behind this obvious ruse. Why chase something which would eventually catch up with you? It was insanity. However, it hadn't mattered much those easy days when the sun would rise and set on his acres of scars yet leave him intact; on those endless night where he'd escaped unscathed on yarns of nightmares knitted by hands he loved. As Sayeed would laugh whenever he raises his doubt about the edges they dallied;

"Killing yourself despite knowing you're doomed is sexy, Saddiq. I mean how else would you really know life?"

Was he right? Saddiq never agreed. Life is life. Death is death. He doesn't think extreme sports is sexy nor does it makes any profound statement about life (or death). There is nothing to understand either. But he loves them and he indulged them as much as he can; watching movies he doesn't quite get when he'd rather play games with Sameer or provides moral support whenever Sayeed thinks of more sexier ways of living life. And yet now, he wonders if perhaps he could have done more even if deep down he know he'd done his very best.

Looking back, it was quite obvious the twins had a rather morbid obsession with the boundaries that marks life and death. It's a shame they hadn't lived long. He wonders if they might have, perhaps, gotten the answers they had desperately seek by now if they had. Would it have made them happier? Saddiq would never know. But they had been happy. He would know. He was there.