It was 10 of September. I was hesitant but anyhow expressed
my desire to her to accompany her in her shopping trek. She knew she needed help
and gladly validated my proffer. Out of a thanksgiving or a formality or just
out of happiness, I don’t know but she hugged me, a hug that departed me to an
abstract world of reveries of freaking but delightful feelings, a hug that
appeased my wailing heart. My heart, which I knew had dried up of all hope and
happiness, was suddenly recuperated and it thumped harder than drums as if
wanting to jump out and dance like a lunatic.
We set out together. My heart wanted to roam with hers on my
bike and just when I was directed by my stupid brain to take out the car, came
from her a voice , “ we are going on bike, right ? “ and I just managed to say,
yes. So, two hearts rolled on two wheels inside bustling markets, through jammed
roads and over abrupt speed breakers. I kept a track of every expression of hers,
everyone one of them caressing my heart more and I felt more and more happy
about her. We barged in many shops and hurried out of many and I kept wondering
if any attire could embellish her flaring beauty anymore. Finally, we grounded
ourselves to a showroom of some acquaintance of hers. She faked many dresses on
herself, discarded many more. I was mum all the time dwindling up every emotion
of mine but when that orange attire decorated her, I blabbered out. “This one
is for you”. She didn’t muse over much and ordered the orange one and hugged me
again. I was stoic this time. Well protected in a rectangular box with the
tagline, “dressing up two hearts “, came her wedding dress. I was satisfied
albeit my heart withered.
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