Fiction or.....?

The first time she fell in love, she thought she would die of a heart attack because of the number of times her heart skipped a beat on seeing him.

She could tell him anything. She wanted to. She wanted to do everything possible to make him feel special. And why not? He was indeed very special. He loved her, but conditionally. There were times when he would realise that there are better things to do than to just fall and remain in love. She failed to understand. It was against her principles. Against her nature. Against the picture that she had of love in her mind. Damn Bollywood!

She took it as a passing phase taking each one as an obstacle to a higher level of togetherness. Before she knew, he confessed that he no longer loved her. Left heartbroken, she couldn’t come to terms with the fact that there could be anything wrong with her. What could possibly be wrong? Didn’t she love him truthfully? Didn’t she put her self-respect aside to boost his? What did she not do? What went wrong that he didn’t love her anymore? Half a year and 50 sad songs hence, she returned to her original, rational self. Life seemed simpler now. The clouds of hope and despair had cleared out from in front of her eyes.

She realised that he hadn’t stopped loving her. One needs to be in love in order to get out of it. Something was definitely wrong with men.

However, love didn’t seem to leave her path. It came again. Several times. But she didn’t get herself involved. She thought the best way to be in a relationship was to not be in love. Ironic and silly as it sounded, although she didn’t believe in it herself, she thought it would be a successful formula. Can’t blame her - she was living on survival instincts now.

Then came another beautiful rainy evening. Once again, she would blame the Rain-Gods for the increase in the testosterone level in man and woman. Her boss, whom she secretly adored, offered to give her a lift home. Was it the first step towards a relationship, she thought. A shy grin and she got into the car with him. Traffic jams, honking cars, water splashing, street fights – nothing bothered her. Her trip home, which usually lasts for ages, seemed so pathetically short that day. For she was having a wonderful time chatting with her love (apparently she was too mature to have a crush). They spoke and laughed and exchanged their views. He loved the fact that she thought the same way as he did. She loved the fact that he loved something about her.

She couldn’t wait to reach home and tell her best friend how her dreams were taking shape. The next day in office would be so awkward for her boss and her to meet eyes. Blushing at the thoughts, she stupidly gazed into nothing. When it was time to get off from the car, she thought of wishing him good night in the sweetest of tones and what not.

Pop!

What was that?

Did a balloon burst? Oh no, it was her dream bubble. Because he asked, “By the way, what’s your name again?” She never knew that such an innocent question would ever make her want to scream out loud and tear her hair.

Damn the male species!

Distancing herself from men, from love, from relationships – she found solace in friendships and non-committal relationships. It was better that way, she realised. Earlier, she needed convincing but now she was herself okay with the concept of non-commitment.

Life was easier. Relationships lasted longer. Sometimes forever. Lesser fights. More love (not that kind). She started enjoying the different forms of love that can exist between two people in general and man and woman in particular.

She started seeing more clearly how fragile men are, how inconstant, insecure, indecisive and surprising they are. It took her time to get over the shock but now she knew that’s just how men are. It’s not their fault. It’s their quality. That’s what differentiates man from a woman.

Love (or the lack of it) was turning her into a philosopher.
Well, at least love was doing something good to her.

Then he came. The love of her life. Whom she loved since the time when she didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Her first crush. The crush that lasted for 6 years. The crush that she had sidelined after growing up. The crush that had envisaged all her senses. No arousal. No lust. No dreams. Just plain want. She just wanted him for he was the idea of the perfect man.

Tall and adorable. Handsome. Eyes that made her fall in love. Hair that made her want to caress him. Lips that made her forget her next sentence. Voice that made her want to shut up for the rest of her life.

This was not infatuation. This was no crush. These things last for maximum a year, so her friends had said. Then, was this the dreaded feeling? No. She turned her back.
Or did she?

Why did he have to come back? Life was good when she knew that she was surely not going to get him. Why did he have to come and complicate things by presenting a possibility?

Everything told her that she was about to make the wrong decision but what did the world expect of her? Did it not want her to take any risks? To say ‘no’ and deny the one single opportunity that could go right?
She said yes.

Once again, she welcomed love with open arms. Once again, she surrendered herself to this one man who was the owner and occupant of her dreams. Now she was handing him the ownership to reality too.

Keeping passion at bay or surrendering blindly to it – which of these two attitudes is the least destructive?
She didn’t know.

Big risk. Her soul shrieked out to her. Her heart couldn’t take another bruise. But she was not to listen....

She let herself go with the flow convincing herself that even if it doesn’t work out, she will not break her heart. She will take the outcome in the most detached manner. But why was she thinking all the negative stuff? Did she know what was impending?

Mornings started with each other. They went out for dates together. Meet after meet, they opened up their book of life to each other. There was no need to keep any secrets whatsoever. They were each other’s now. They loved each other’s company. Joked. Laughed. Talked forever. He said things that told her that this was it. Whenever she would see him, hold his hand, rest in his broad arms, feel safe in his hug, find heaven in touch, melt in his kiss, she would let out a silent prayer to the Lord.

Things weren’t the way she had imagined all these years. They were better.

Howmuchever she wanted to believe him and his love, there was something that always bothered her.

Why did he come back to her? When one is as handsome as he was, there wasn’t a chance that he would have no girlfriend. Why would he come back to a girl who was foolishly in love with him 6 years back? Why would he settle for less when he can settle for the best? Not that she underestimated herself, but she was another pretty face in the crowd. Why her? Why now?

If she continued at this rate, she would surely die of a heart attack.

Girls! Even if things work well, they manage to find something fishy in it.

Was she wrong this time?
Or was he wrong?