What If I Tell You...

                 Photo by Sam Hull {Unsplash}

I love this time we often spend together. Sometimes, just soaking the coolness of sunset quietly. Sometimes talking mindlessly about anything. Same time. Same place, sitting on the same rocks, watching the waves making countless trips.


And you! The way you smile while walking towards me. Or the way you narrow your eyes and I know you don't agree. The way you frown when you sense I am not okay. The way you clench, unclench your fist or rake your fingers, repeatedly, through your hair, and I know you are upset about something.


It just started after we met twice, just by chance. And then I found myself waiting for our meetings. I know you also look forward to it, for you never miss our meeting. Yes, you are always late. You are a busy man after all, and I am a nobody.


You know, I skip a beat whenever you look at me? I think something changed that day when you teased me about something and I got irritated. I got up to leave, and you gripped my hand, like a reflex action and said, 'Please don't go.'


I glanced at our entwined hands; yours strong, warm and a little darker, mine petite. And then you immediately left my hand and whispered a sorry. I said it was okay, while my heart thundered. I perched on the rock next to you, not bothering about the time anymore. You dropped me that day, waiting till I got inside the gate of my building.


Sometimes, I feel I can say anything to you and you would understand. But it's complicated, my feelings. Oh how I wish I could tell you everything I feel for you. But what if a sense of discomfort creeps in, if I do? I fear it might change something between us___ this comfort, this understanding, this unspoken promise of togetherness?

I think I've spilled some of my emotions and murmured something unintentionally because you ask, 'What?' Your face so calm, eyes enchanting, fixed on mine.


These overwhelming, stupid emotions!


'What?' I say, trying hard to be nonchalant.


'I thought you said something.'


'No, nothing,' I say, as I tuck my curls behind my ears.


Then we go back to admiring the crimson sun that looks like it's going to kiss the vast, restless ocean. Its reflection glistening over the waves. I love how the pinkish hue of sunset settles on your face so comfortably.
What if I graze your stubbled cheek? How would you react? Would you close your eyes, absorbing the warmth of my touch? Or pull yourself back and look at me, startled?

And I often wonder what you think when you look at me. Do you ever think of me when I'm not around? Do you feel the ache in your heart when we couldn't meet for four-five days, like I do? Do you also feel the same for me and struggle to share your feelings, like I do?


You sigh and look at me. I smile. It's time to call it a day.



Please read Forty Days and tell me if it can be a sequel to this story.