[Sequel of Warm Love, hence can't be read as a standalone.]
In the first phase, Reyansh concealed a web of mysteries, but as they stand face to face once more, it's Kiraz who holds the tantalizing secrets waiting to be unveiled. These hidden truths...
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Five Summers. Five winters pass.
In a blink, days and night just proceeded to mark one more year. I trailed, walked, to only get it as a kickstart and run. The most interesting out of it all was running. The four years, all I did was run. This times not from circumstances my life shoved me to face, but for myself.
I had to. I didn't have any support, anyone to hold hand and stop in its shelter for a shade.
This fact didn't worrymy heartbreak, my pained feelings, and my brutally murdered trust. I got used to it, if anything it ignited a fire in me, to keep running with all my things.
24th December, Christmas Eve.
Six days to be precise to mark another year to keep myself remembering, I have come far. Now, it doesn't bother me anymore.
I let go of the hands, which had once held Samira. I let go of Amaira, the hope carrying the corpse of my dead friendship, that the corpse will one day get a life. No, I know it, it'll never and I am proud that I made peace with the bitter truth. It took me years, but I guess healing has its own pace and time.
Eventually, the love for Reyansh, well I don't know? I keep guessing what it has developed into. For sure it has into deep bond. But I just have no name to give it. Maybe, since I daily see a new of him in someone else, who is a part of him.
Above all, I want to scream out to the heaven, to all the Almighty it homed in the sky, why the hell it's so warm when it must be cold as in winters.
Instead of a white cloudy sky, the new sun of the day, peep above the sky-line, for a tease hiding behind clouds. For God's love it's December, but the air didn't carry the shiver rattling cold. Rather the air, caused a sheen layer of sweat to coat my forehead. I dab my wrist on my forehead, remove the trace of oily moisture. Tucking my wayward red brown dyed hair, behind my ears. I regret leaving them open.
Welcome to Goa, is all I can hear God whispering.
My shoes hit the cobbled path, the warm breeze flares my mid skirt. The rays kissed my head. Slipping out my hat from my purse, I tuck it on my red head. How the crown which was earlier showered with kisses. Now, none to trail their hands, or pat my head. Leave alone, lips. If the lips I desired are not the one who kisses my head, I don't want anyone else to do it.
