Coffee Time Slurps

#An Option

I turned around on the bed, the pale sun rays blocked by the curtains rests upon my face. I look at her figure. The blanket stretched up, covering her face. Ever so slowly, I pull the blanket down.

The hem of the blanket slid down her face, like fingers brushing over cheeks. And, like every morning, the realization hits me with a blob of sadness and guilt.

This woman… I have spent so many nights with her, making love or talking about the certainty of a lovely morning. But she is the lady I do not love. And I suppose I never can. I stood up and pulled the curtains aside, welcoming the rays to cover the smell of yearning and lust with its warmth and hope.

She muttered something silly. I smiled a smile of sorrow and looked outside the window. The sun was climbing up to its zenith.

Beyond the horizon was where Arfa and I had dreamt of building a home. A far away land where sight was going to be serene and laughter would have been drunk with happiness.

I still remember that 2am. The time where I supposed I had found a lifetime. But she was a moment, as fleeting as time. She stepped into my life, right after her first love left her. I was the one to stay, listening to her sorrows and putting her to sleep.

I was a diary to her, except I could talk and respond, although I am not a Hour crux. Every time we talked, it felt like we were on the wheels of a hamster, running and grasping for something… until she ran out of the sorrows.

After every sprint, she would grasp for breath, break her lips into a laughter, her hands pulling her hair behind. Between my breaths, I would whisper to her:

“You are worth every mile of hope.”

And there was hope. She ignited that hope, scratching the words together until the flames of emotion ignited over my bones. She would tell me lovely things.

Things like:

“You make me feel like home”,“Talking to you heals me”, and “Love is sincere this time”.

The heart is like a pendulum, and it oscillates between wants and needs. But this time, both pointed at her. She was the one. Everything about her was beautiful.

We were together for four months now. We were riding towards a lifetime. And then one morning, she held the steering wheels, stomped her feet on the accelerator of questions and threw us off the road, drowning all the dreams.

She wanted to break-up.

I asked her: “Why?’

“It is the crossfire between my bitter heart and senile mind.”

I gazed at her, puzzled. And she explained: “To avoid the yearning and pain, I attempted to find love in someone else. You. It felt good to be around you. I supposed I would feel the same way with you, the way I had felt with him. I am sorry.”

She was sorry. Just sorry. And to her, I was not a home or a heartbeat. But a fun distraction—someone that would ease her pain. I was a rebound.

I looked at her with understanding, my eyes scampering for a sign that it was a lie… that she dearly loves me.

“Tell me, you love me and not him,” I pleaded.

“I love you, but I loved him once and I loved him more.” Her eyes felt sorry for me.

“All you said to me were words. Devoid of love."

“I don’t know.”

My hands had started to shake and I clasped them, tying the fingers into a knot, trying to hold myself, because she won’t.

“I was an option,” I whispered, looking up at her.

I was on a boat, rowing away from the waterfall of pain. She decided to let go of me.

“Morning,” said the lady on the bed.

I turned around and smiled faintly. She stopped rubbing her face and sat on her knees, the blanket draped around her body.

“Thinking about her?” She sounded worried.

I met her gaze, and somewhere tried hunting down the old stare i used to adore, those dilated pupils, and those smiling eyelashes secretly adding some more mystery to the eyes.

The eyes with millions of unspoken word, repeating very known story of love, our love. I couldn't find those in her gaze, as my eyelids shut-opens another time.

“Looking back… I feel funny about it. Our relationship was never a digit, you know? ¾ tops. I am here with you, and I am thinking about you.” She giggled.

I like her little laughs. They are hopeful like there is still a chance at love. After all, there is always a way to find love.

Sometimes, we distract ourselves and make new memories with someone else. Even when we know, it will break them.

“I love you,” the lady said.

“I love you, too.” I hope I fall in love soon.

Inspiration : An excerpt of Omair Tarique's scribble

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Votes and comments please :)

Quote: Never break someone because you were once broken, its life not payback.