She lit the cigarette…her fourth in about two hours. She only smoked because she knew it hurt him, basically, it was the only thing he seemed to react to. A tear traced its journey from the end of her eye as she took a deep puff inside; she’d grown immune to the taste, bitter as it was, yet she relished it, for she knew the smell made him take notice of her.
‘Notice of me’; she shook her head. What was it she wanted from a relationship? Were the movies reflecting there charismatic sets in her desires? Is it so bad to ask for love? Another puff. Her relationships have always gone haywire,
what is it that she’s looking for? She expected words of love, yes she did; she also wanted some time alone with him, she wanted him to tell her how he felt about her, all those things that she’d read and seen and heard. Was it too much to ask for? As she burst crying, she took a deep puff, letting the smoke in the air accompanied with bouts of cough. Why do people do not feel the need to tell each other that they cared and loved after a while? And when does everything and everyone becomes taken for granted? Was she trying too hard, or was he finding a
way out?
Way out? The words echoed in her mind, being louder than her cough bouts. What did they say about committing oneself to love and all that concerned with it? What a fool she has been, she cursed herself aloud…No , these stupid commitments are not forever, they are used only as an additional measure to make one loose stupid minds to their hearts, and everything starts looking different. Or maybe it simply puts to rest all mushy mushy things, signaling that we are on a serious tread, we will be together all our lives, we share a house and a bed, and that’s all. Who has the time to make you feel loved everyday? You are loved, once said, must last a life time. Then why can’t she be like him? Why is she restless? Why does she kiss him every morning she wakes up, while he seems to dwell away in his sleep? Why does she unfailingly wait for him in the bedroom so that he would make her sleep in his arms, when she knows his preference is the television? Why does a feeling of hurt crosses her mind when she sees a couple hand in hand on the streets, when she couldn’t remember when did they last walked a few miles purposelessly? Why did her friends open love notes for each other fill her mind with exasperation?
NO, he doesn’t need a wayout, SHE DID.
She pressed the cigarette butt on the ash tray, wiped her tears and dashed towards the mirror. The kajal seemed to be everywhere except her eyes, her face looked red and bleak, her eyes radiated loneliness and she was clearly a failed example. No, this can’t be, she thought to herself, I love him the way I do, and am not dependent on his love, but on mine. They are gonna be together, only that she wouldn’t be pressing him notice, she would herself make her unnoticeable to him, for she’d immerse in world that she will create for himself, where he needn’t be there in person, but only as her thoughts. She’d still kiss him mornings, yet not expect to be kissed back. She’d do everything for him that she will feel right, yet never blink an eye when he’d suggest otherwise.
A nice hot shower released her body from the pain. She’d not cried anymore. She threw the pack of cigarettes in the dustbin, and simply got on with her official assignment.
****
After dinner, she wished him good night and went to bed. He probably expected her to call upon, she didn’t. She finished her read, and slept peacefully, knowing he will be by her side when she wakes up the next morning. ****
She’d released herself in letting him go.
She’d freed herself from the expectations she had from him
.
It wasn’t easy, she still gets desperate sometimes, but then she hasn’t lost her love, it keeps her going – with or without him.
I became Strong, when you set me Free.
And I became even Stronger;
When I LET you GO.
