A numbing cold wind raced through her overdrawn coat, as she clutched on to her bag and hurried down the lane. She didn’t look at the clouds beginning to envelop the dim sky, somewhere in the bleak corner of the narrow path, tramps had begun to huddle themselves around a freshly awakened bonfire. The sun started its journey down the horizon, she stole a quick glance at the drowning red sphere and quickened her steps.
A letter had arrived three days back. There was no stamp on it. Apparently tattered and timeworn, it had been a gust of fresh wind from the past. She had held it in her hands tenderly, with effort as if it weighed her down. It was from him. ‘Him’. She couldn’t even bring herself to say his name. They had met by chance, bonded over their love for literature, she fell for his crazy imaginations about the world. He adored her strength and laughter alike. Together they lived Shakespearean love, and basked under its mysticism. They made each other promises, which felt real at that time. But Romeo and Juliet never had it easy for them either. She was in love but didn’t want to be. She was unconventionally scared of being vulnerable. She was scared to be shattered to the ground and be trampled upon. It had all seemed unreal to her. So, she had made it real.
Now standing at the doorway, in front of a beautiful English house with big maple trees ornamenting it, she struggled with her decision. She imagined his face. A gentle uncertain smile, intensely dark eyes staring right into her soul, he was not handsome but he captivated her with his unbounded love. Love? Yes, it used to exist. She rang the doorbell. And waited.
It had been a sunny day, all clouds seem to have vanished under the brightness of his smiles. They had held hands for hours. There had been a weak moment, where she felt she had everything. She felt that her life was worth living. She felt alive. It terrified her. One person could hold so much power over her. She had wanted to take her hands away, but it seemed that her soul had jammed on to his. She was brave, that is why she had ended it. Or was she a coward? She had thought about everything that made them different probably forgetting about one major thing that unified them. She had thought about countless people that are going to raise eyebrows, but not about the one whose eyes are always searching out for her. Yes, she had said, ‘It is over. I don’t love you.’ She had believed that, until now.
She could feel the letter tightly clasped in her fingers. It was dated twenty years back, the same day when she had broken up with him. With the letter, there was an address. It also contained an oddly shaped ring made from the thin copper wires used in mechanical workshops. The ring wasn’t heavy, but the words were,
‘You were everything I loved. Physics, my work, nothing seems complete without you. So here it is, a part of my heart, a reminder, a souvenir from the time when I had loved everything, because I had you. It can’t be undone. I will wait. Probably forever. Goodbye.’
She didn’t know how the letter found its way to her doorsteps. Even all the logic in the world, couldn’t stop her from taking the next flight to Paris. They had always wanted to live in this city. Now sweating with anxiety, she stood there. The door opened and a gentle looking 40 year old man stood facing her. She recognised him immediately, he still hadn’t gotten rid of that French style moustache she hated. A musical silence wrapped around them, bridging the years together, as his eyes twinkled with the remembrance. They did not say much, and just collapsed into each other’s arms. Perhaps the silence of twenty years had deafened them beyond speech.
‘I was expecting you.’
‘But you didn’t know whether I will come back.’
‘Your mother told me that she had finally given you that letter.’
The twenty years had finally spoken up. The words hung in the air, trying to fit into places. Oblivious to all this, she became vulnerable again.
-Nida Gul Niazi