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“You’re always this quiet…” she said, brushing her hand gently across his face.

Four years. one thousand four hundred and sixty evenings spent together. Not one filled with a significant , meaningful word.

“I sort of…love the silence, i can sit in this silence with you forever love”, he said  with great difficulty, leaning in to kiss her.

She sighed in between her never ending smiles. She was growing tired of this. In an odd way she was scared of scarring him with her affection for he didn’t quite understand the affectionate kisses or the loving touches, almost  feared them.
Over and over again , it was a struggle to put his impatient mind to rest. To try and make him love her. He was constantly running from an invisible warrior armed with hurt. She kept leaping between them, trying to solve a problem that was no one’s but his.

And so, none of this was about her. It never had been. He was leaning on her through the good and bad, while she stood tall like a skyscraper, her feelings living upon the rooftop, permanently surrounded by the clouds. The desire to let them jump off this high building, on their way to the light, unsafe but free, creepy across her skin, leaving tiny goosebumps. She had forgotten about herself.

Would he ever do the same for me?
Does he ever wonder about how I feel?

A nagging feeling nibbled on the thumping muscle inside her chest, begging to be recognized.

He had become her heart’s substitute.

This has to stop . She thought. Almost saying it aloud. Her fingers running absently through his hair.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered.

“What for?” Her voice sounded weak, even distant.

“For not being there man you want me to be”, he must have read her mind, picked up her inaudible roars.

If only he realized how beautiful he was; how unbelievably perfect he was.

“No”, she bit her lips. “I’m sorry for trying to turn you into someone you’re not.”
He locked his fingers with hers as he shook his head. “This is not about you, baby.”

On the very contrary, it was all about her. She had known what she was getting into all along.She didn’t leave when she had the chance to. Now there was no point turning back. She had tried to make him believe he was free, when all she had done was taken away his freedom by pushing him in the wrong direction.

Her direction.

Perhaps, it was her who needed him more than he needed her. She had bribed him with her understanding. Perhaps, he had nothing to give her.

This hunger for someone who would choose to be by her side couldn’t be stilled by trying to be someone’s saving grace. If someone would truly ever look for who she really was, would she never be found? Had she lost herself?

“No, up till now it was about you. But I want it to be about us”, she stood up, turning away from the man she adored.

“I don’t understand”, he suddenly looked very alive to her for the first time in forever.

“That’s the whole point baby”, she said. “We don’t understand each other because we don’t know each other. You say you love the silence, I detest it. I want to share my passions and dreams with you, but you would rather turn away. There is no us . Not even after all this time. It is still just you and me.

He looked up at her, thinking of the right thing to say. He was so strikingly handsome it crushed her heart to put her feelings into words. She wanted to go up to him and sit next to him in his beloved silence forever,not facing reality, not facing each other. Just erase and forget.
But no, she couldn’t , not this time. For the first time in four years of spending every evening in complete silence, she would speak her mind. She would tell him.

“Not once did you ask me how I feel. Not once.” Her voice , only a whisper now “I might know you, but you don’t know me . At all.”

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Azmaan Khan

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