26.
I thought that
by now
I would have been
sipping wine in my own balcony.
writing things that people want to read.
living life to the fullest.
But here I am
lying in bed wondering where did all that lost time go.
constantly reminding myself that life is still worth the living.
.
.
.
Maybe I’ll get there
by the time I am
36.
Theirs was not an earth-shattering kind of love.
They would probably not have given each other a second glance if not for...
Two broken souls, buddies, two pints of beer.
She was a train wreck, and he never let anyone in.
But he picked her up at her weakest, and she became his strength.
It's not like they filled each other's empty spaces.
They were broken people, in ways that could probably never be fixed.
But in each other, they found a home for their wandering hearts;
A place to stand naked, and be embraced for the wounds and the cuts.
With each other, they experienced in its entirety the other faces of love - jealousy, obsession, insecurity, and lust.
But in spite of that, they tried their best to remember that love is patient, kind, not easily angered, and keeps no records of wrong, so that they could be together for a very, very long time.
And that is how the not so earth-shattering kind of love became one that made two broken people find the courage to love again. To find that passion that once burned so brightly within them and defined them - as a woman full of faith and a man of big dreams.
Just that this time, it burned for each other. And this time, they won't let go.
It has been a long time since he saw his mates. I must put on my best suit, he thought.
The dinner was perfect, as always. Charles always chose the best wine and no matter how long it has been, the boys always caught on like a house on fire whenever they met.
"How's Gwen?" Charles' wife asked.
"She's great! She just published her third book. I'm so proud of her," he replied.
"Why don't you ask her to come over and say hi?"
"You know how she is, she's really introverted. She'll come over when she wants to." I wish she was a little more sociable, he thought.
He was exhausted after a long night of conversations. As much as he enjoyed catching up with his mates, he appreciated the long and quiet drives home with his wife. They would listen to whatever tunes were on the radio, and admire the night lights as they drove through the city.
When they got home, he took a nice and warm shower, and crawled into bed beside her. He took out his phone and scrolled his newsfeed. That was his way of winding down for the day.
Before drifting off to sleep, he remembered how beautiful she looked in her satin dress. Far more beautiful and elegant than the girls in crop tops and miniskirts these days. He had the urge to hold her in his arms and close the gap between them. But he saw that she had turned to her side and gone to sleep.
Maybe tomorrow, he thought. I'll tell her how beautiful she looked tomorrow.
Click here for pt 1: her pov.
She glanced across the room and saw him at the other end with a glass of red wine in his hand, chatting and laughing away with his old friends.
He still got it in him, she thought. Her mind drifted back to the days when he pursued her like nothing else in the world mattered. She didn't quite know who he was back then. He was one among the many suitors that she had. But in his relentless pursuit of her, she started to see his charm. He knew exactly what he wanted in life and would stop at nothing to achieve them. He had a way with words, and never failed to catch the attention of his audience with his fascinating anecdotes and effortless choice of words. In no time, he became the anchor that she needed, in that carefree and directionless life of hers.
Their journey back home was like any other. He put the radio on. She hummed to her favourite tunes when they were on air. Except that this time, she tried to strike a meaningful conversation.
"How's the gang? You guys seemed to be having a really good time," she started.
"Same old," he replied.
"I remember how you guys were back in the days..." It was a cue for him to continue with the reminiscence.
Silence. He must be tired.
"The boys orchestrating the whole wedding proposal... It was really something."
"Yeah it was huh." The rest of the ride was silent, except for the songs that were playing on the radio.
Back at home and tucked in bed, he was scrolling through his newsfeed like he did every other night. Occasionally, he would show her something interesting that he came across. She appreciated it. It made her feel that she was somehow still his closest confidant. She read her book, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver, until they were both tired and he went to turn the lights off.
She longed for his touch that night, more than any other night. He had looked ravishing in that navy suit of his. She reached out for his waist but drew it back before her hand touched his skin.
She turned to her side, shut her eyes, and for a long time, wondered if things with between Charles (her husband's best man) and his wife were the same before finally falling asleep.
Click here for pt 2: his pov.