"Let's get divorced".
Three words have never wielded more power. The force of his anger caused a mid-sized sedan to brake hard in the middle of a busy road. She sat in the shotgun trembling. He'd never looked this determined and conviction always scared her. This man had made up his mind. Nothing, nobody would convince him otherwise. He didn't wait for answer, unlocked the car door and walked into the oncoming traffic.
"Rishabh please come back. It's dangerous".
He wasn't in the right state of mind but she couldn't say that out loud. Knowing him for two decades she had that much down. She ran after him begging in a pitiful voice and pleading hands that clasped around his fingertips for hope.
"Please, let's head back to safety", she said.
"I don't love you. Anymore", he answered.
Her words were stuck in her throat because god knew she loved this man very much. More today than yesterday. More. With every passing minute. Sometimes all she could think of was him. Sometimes all she wanted was him. But other times she didn't. Must passion be so self-consuming that it isn't true unless she is lost in its pursuit?
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked attempting to lead him to the sidewalk, knowing his answer would not be pleasing.
"Many things. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. We were good when we were together but now we are miles apart".
"MILES APART", the words rung in her ear like action replay. Again, then again, until her voice was muddled somewhere in the labyrinth. "I love you", she said in the last ditch effort to save this marriage.
To save his life from the reckless war against the speeding urban traffic, she was willing to pull any lie or deceit she could. But it was the most sincere she'd ever felt. She forced opened her balled up fists, pressed her palms against his back and shoved him off to a far corner of the pavement as she prepared her body to take the hit of a head on collision with a two ton truck. The driver had slowed down quite a bit but Madhubala still shot up in the air like a projectile landing spat on the asphalt upon impact. Her skull had cracked open, several rib fractures were announced when he brought her to the emergency unconscious. She was kept under induced comatose for ten days. He didn't visit her until she was well enough to talk. Truthfully, he felt guilty. He could never have comprehended the consequence of his actions until it was too late. He didn't feel any less angry today than he did a fortnight ago. Nor did he suddenly decide to love her again. Only, he was forced to rethink his impulsive outburst. Was he really tearing their love apart on his own? Did he really drive her to the brink of her death?
"Hello", she greeted him as he took shy steps to her hospital ward.
"Should I get you a private room?"
"No, I am okay".
The room fell into silence again.
"Did you eat?" she asked.
"No".
"Do you want my apple sauce and pudding?"
"No"
"Why? It's delicious".
"No Madhu". His discomfort was palpable.
"Did you file the papers?"
"Not yet", he assumed she was referring to the divorce.
"Good. Because I did. I don't want to be the woman who guilt trips you into keeping her. If you no longer want me then that is exactly what you will get".
She pointed to the legal paper sitting on the night stand with her signature in black ink. He ruffled through the notes for pure ceremony. She was a reasonable woman, she wouldn't screw him up. But he didn't know what to say to her either. Better avoid eye contact which way he knew.
"I have always loved you. Probably always will, even moving forward. It's going to take me a long time to forget you so forgive me if I do something foolish in the meantime. I was happy. No, there wasn't I time when I wasn't happy with you. Great! Now the tears start rolling down", she pointed to her miserable state. "Thank you for being in my life. I was honoured to be a part of yours".
She barely kept herself together as he signed on the dotted line with pen she gifted on his 40th birthday.
"Thank you", he waved the papers in the air, turned around and walked away.
Behind the protection of a metal door with a glass hole for viewing, he watched her slowly dissolve into a ball of sobs and tears. He only left the building when her cries lulled into a deep whimpering noise that resonated like a sad song rhyme in his head.
Her scent was still fresh in his arms. Those crystal clear eyes staring at him with endearment, her face carved like a sculpture snuggling close to his heart. But all he could focus on were the wrinkles. Thought not deep enough to be termed aged, but her first fine lines betrayed her years. He could tell in instant this woman had lived and he didn't...he couldn't get rid of that thought. What he would give to have her young again. But two decades had passed and she was no longer the naive country girl, nor energetic all the same. If only he could get that thought out of his head. That damned thought that was messing with his brain, taking over his days and nights, he would turn back time. He would save her, save himself perhaps. He didn't like what he had become. But he didn't like her either.
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