I waited. Counting each second, feeling each breath, listening every sound, and watching every thought. The stomach twisting with hunger, tears dripping with memories, and body shrinking with cold. The hope and anticipation running through every vein. Every heartbeat telling me, she will come. We were meeting after a decade. All the chaos, all the anxiety, all the turbulence, and all the thoughts, about just one thing. When will she come?
But she must had been there. An hour passed since the time we decided to meet. How could not she come on time? Wasn’t she excited to see me?
The impatience growing inside me, those memories replaying in my head, and the recollection of suffering I endured were making me restless. I thought she must have been stuck somewhere. So I started the bike and traced along the path from where she was supposed to come. My eyes craved for a glance of her and she kept them craving.
I returned to the place. I sat there for one more hour. At last, I realized, I accepted, she is not coming. I swirled the chocolate on the road, threw the gift in dustbin, and rushed to restroom to wipe away tears. I looked into the mirror. I could literally tell the difference between my tears and water splashed on my face. I had to wash four to five times. They were tears of unfairness. First, I had to endure the suffering of separation. And now, I had to endure the emptiness. Still, tears didn’t stop. How could they? The crazy fact is, I had been taken for granted. Once again.