Missing you

Rohan and Alya have been in love for more years than he cares to remember, but then suddenly she stops calling him. The last call from her had ended in her shrieking desperately for him.

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2. The first time

 

My bed, my room and my whole life was like a souvenir from her. Even before she was my girlfriend she was my best friend. We were what one would call childhood sweethearts. A relationship that started being as simple as a friendship and blossomed into love.

I had met her in 10th grade when I shifted school. She was one of the popular girls in class. Looking at her one could easily assume her to be the usual rich, haughty girl with an unbelievable attitude.

But it was her attitude that attracts most people. So it did for me too. She was a like an open book. ‘Say what think and do what you say’ was her way of life. We were perfect opposites one could say for I was a sucker for diplomacy.

But it wasn’t under happy circumstances that we met. I was in the cafeteria buying lunch when she lunged at me, accusing me me of stealing her wallet.  My seat was next to hers and we had only finished a heated debate in our English class. She simply assumed that it could only be me. After all no one really knew much about me yet. I wasn’t much sociable back then (not that I’m much better now).

Later she had learnt that her wallet had actually fallen off her table during the debate and her friend had taken it for safekeeping. I had thought that she’d let that matter drop after that, maybe mumble a few incoherent words resembling an apology. But she didn’t. She walked up to me and apologized in front of the whole class. Her eyes shone brightly as tears filled them. She was visibly upset for her unjust accusation, offered to make up for it by buying me lunch the next day and I couldn’t help but be impressed.

Since that fateful day our friendship grew. Soon we became as inseparable as North and South.  Opposites we might be but where one of us is the other too has to be.

It was in my last few days of school, when talks of everyone going separate had started, had I realized how much I needed her. How much empty my life would be because of her! She too must have felt the same thing, because she readily accepted when I asked her to be with me forever. We didn’t have any romantic speeches as you find in books and movies. None of those flowery poetic words could ever come out of me. Sure, I think about such stuff before meeting her but always end up spoiling all preparation when I look at her face. Still, there was always soft flirtatious touch to many of our late night texts. When I think about what all we spoke, a dull ache fills my chest.

We were not one of those eternally fighting couples. We’d accepted our differences as part of each other, which is why I can’t understand why she hasn’t picked up any of my calls for the past two weeks.

Enrique’s voice singing ‘Maybe I'm addicted, I'm out of control, but you're the drug that keeps me from dying. ’ keeps mocking me. It seems to fit me like no other song. She had indeed become the drug that I survived on.

Another voice that keeps torturing me, specially in the few hours I manage to doze off are hers. Her shrill voice, screaming her head off exactly in the way the last time she had phoned me, till I wake up inevitably covered in sweat.

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