She woke up. Her head was dizzy, her eyes hurt. She couldn't remember anything. She tried to focus on the white light, she tried to even her breath. After a while, when her chest and head felt a little clearer, she buzzed for the nurse.
The next morning she woke up again. It all came rushing back to her,and she held her breath. The accident. The night. Kabir, her Kabir. She started to sob, she ached to see him. It has been long, but how long?
She wiped her tears and looked around. A bunch of flowers were kept in the vase on the little counter beside her, and with that a stack of letters. She slowly reached out and pulled the last one, she opened it. She gasped, it was her husband's untidy handwriting. She smiled to herself, her eyes leaked of happiness. She began to read.
Letter 365.
Deepika, my love,
Tonight marks the anniversary of the night when you chose to fall asleep, unperturbed. And tonight, I want to talk about us, just us. You and me, together.
You. Me. Together.
I would give away my heart to make it happen, one last time.
Everything is great when you meet someone exactly like you, the person who has the same interests, same thoughts, same problems. Sometimes you can't explain what you see in a person. I realized this, and that I was not happy until you came into my life. Well, technically you bumped into me, remember? You had left me alone in our honeymoon suite, in the houseboat floating in the backwaters of Kerala. And, I had set out to search for you, and I found you dipping your feet into the water. So, I leaned against the door as I watched you. I didn't want to pry, you looked content. Then you looked up and saw me staring, I had cleared my throat announcing breakfast. You had hastened to get up and tripped on the nail that was sticking out from the wooden floor board, and you tumbled towards me, into my arms and simultaneously into my heart, my very being.
We were still strangers then, and had to agree to the marriage, because our parents had demanded so. We fulfilled their dreams. I still regret that I couldn't fulfil yours, that you left it unfulfilled and incomplete. Once you wake up, I promise, I will take it upon myself and I will build you the flower shop that you want. You can live among the roses, dahlias, lilies, orchids, bluebells, and forget-me-nots. But, you have to promise that you will come back for dinner and tell me about your day. I would love to listen to the flowers you helped delivered, the couples you helped to unite and reunite. I will empty my old bottle of Jack for you to keep the dried rose petals their. Your fetish for dead flowers has always surprised me. I do not see the beauty you find in them. You say, that they start to die once they are pluck, and they selflessly serve, thus you want to preserve their deaths, render their service immortal. I am sorry that I threw your jars of brittle petals away. I admit, I had no right. I am so sorry, baby. I am so sorry, my love. I miss you.
Won't you come back to me? I am waiting. And, I will continue. I will wait, I will be patient, I will continue to love you.
All my love,
Yours truly,
Ranbir.
Letter 292.
My love,
I never told you how beautiful you looked, the day I first saw you. And, how beautiful you look especially in that blue sari, and in your white cotton kurtis, and in your floral cooking apron, in my Hendrix T-shirt. You look beautiful, every day. When you smudge your kohl rimmed eyes, and frown so deep that your dimples take up your whole face, even then you look painfully beautiful. 9 years of marriage, and you still manage to excite me and make me feel restless like a 16 year old kid. I get giddy when you smile at me, your eyes twinkle knowingly, as if you know all my secrets, as if you can see right through the composed façade I put up, praying you wouldn't notice my bloodstream rushing.
I have to write these letters in the dead of the night. If Kabir finds out that I can be so helplessly romantic, he won't let me hear the end of it. I reprimanded him for playing too much video games, and he apologized, for the first time. He came and hugged me. We played FIFA together, and he reminded me to bring the roses today. I brought the yellow ones, to start a new journey. You know, when I write to you I feel as if I am baring my soul to my best friend. I never admitted this, but you are my best friend. You will never judge me, and you'll be patient with me. Thank you for being so considerate and for putting in so much effort and gifting me not a marriage, but the best friendship of my life. Kabir wants to visit you tomorrow, he says he has been secretly missing you all this while. I believe he has inherited this penchant for drama, from you. I can picture you glaring at me and then fuming, thus firmly proving my point. God, I miss us. I miss you. I miss your anger. My life is so bland without your spite and arrogance. Maybe, I should confess that I have not been mowing the lawn, or tending to the garden? Would you then open your eyes and glare at me darkly, through those dark velvet eyelids? Will you perhaps then, get up to blame my carelessness?
