{AsYa| OS: The Street Light}

There she was. I had found her.

She looked so lost, the black circles under her eyes suggesting her lack of sleep. And her lack of interest. In her life.

I hated how life could be so cruel to someone. But I wanted to know how her life had made her like this. Or was it me? Her messed up hair, no kohl in her eyes.

I saw how the light from the street light dropped on her face, catching her attention. She smiled.

It was like I didn't even know her. Gone was the girl who dressed to kill. Who walked in the bar like she owned the place. The way she swayed her hips to the rythm of the music and let her head swing with the melody.

I remember how she would go to the bar tender every once in a while and ask him for a drink.

'A diet coke please', she would say.

And everyone would just smile at her innocence. I remember the way she smiled to everyone who walked in, her dimples showing. She had no idea what that smile did to the men there. It killed them. The killer smile.

My eyes turned moist as I took in her careless form now. Dressed in a lose baggy shirt, her shorts on. Her hair though still the same black with the same shine, were no longer straightened, no longer brushed. And that smile she had on her face. It killed.

But this time, literally.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. She sat there on the foot path outside the bar, staring at a street light. Probably the effect of whiskey she had had. She never drank. But she did now.

I felt myself taking small steps towards her. I wanted to talk to her. Just like before. Just like the first time we had talked.

'Hi', I had said.

'Hello', she had replied.

The night had gone by them dancing to some song he had paid no attention to. All I had noticed was her petite form dancing closely to my body, sending an electric wave through my veins.

'What's your name?', she had asked showing off her dimpled smile.

'Asad', I had replied.

'Zoya. Call me Zoe', she had merrily said.

I saw how the street light began flickering and Zoya's smile fading. As the light went on and off, Zoya's smile kept fading. Her body turned stiffer.

Did she know I was here? Or was that street light making her like this?

'Please don't go', I heard her whisper. 'Please stay'.

She had seen me? And she wanted me to stay? Was she alright? I remember the last time she had said those words. Did she remember it too?

'My head's all dizzy', she had said to herself on another night at the bar.

'Zoe? You okay?', I had asked, as I found himself concerned. Deeply concerned.

'You', she had said pointing at me, smiling weakly.

'Did you drink?', I had inquired.

'I never drink', was her reply. 'I think its time'.

'What time?', I had asked confused.

'Take me home, please'.

I had been shocked. Was she suggesting me to what I think she was? I was not that sort of a guy. But she didn't seem like such a girl either, my mind had said.

'Please. Take me home'.

I didn't know what else to do. So I threw my around her shoulder, and made my way towards the exit. She guided me to her house.

'Thank you', she had said, the spark in her eyes missing.

'You okay?'

'Come inside'.

'No. I think I should go. But will you be okay?'

'Please', she had said.

And for the second time that night, I had found himself completely blank and just chose to follow what she said. I didn't know what else to do.

She opened the door urgently and walked in. As soon as we were in, I saw her run upstairs. What was she doing? Should I follow? What was I supposed to do?

I had just stood there in the lounge, waiting for her. To tell me what to do now. My eyes fell on two photographs hanging in the lounge. One of a pretty, mid-aged woman smiling with a little girl in her hands. Probably her mother and her, I had thought smiling. And another one with a mid-aged man and a teenage girl. For sure her.

I saw her coming down, her steps much slower, her body much relaxed.

'Coffee?', she had asked.

I just shrugged smiling and the next thing I knew, I was looking at her make coffee for me.

'Your mother is really pretty', I had found myself saying, still looking at the photo.

'Yeah', she had said, looking up at me to smile.

That dimple. It did weird things to my heart and my body.

'Your father looks like an influential man too'.

She looked up, and smiled once again. There was something strange about her. She danced every day at the bar and at home, yet here, she was so quiet and so...different.

'So you live away from home?', I asked trying to make small talk.

'This is home', she had replied handing me my coffee and seating herself on the couch next to me. She was so close to me, and I was having a hard time controlling my racing heart.

'And your parents?'

'Dead'.

Her curt, emotionless reply had made me almost choke on my coffee. What? The girl who smiled and danced all the day, had so much sadness in her life? I felt my heart swelling up with myriad of emotions.

'I'm sorry'.

'Everyone is'.

Ouch. That hurt. Was she like this only? Then what about the girl at the bar?

'Are you okay now? You seemed unwell at the bar', I said sipping my coffee.

She looked down at her lap, and then up to see my face, the sadness visible. Her slumped shoulders did very little to hide her sadness.

I kept my coffee on the table in front and turned myself to face her. I was concerned.

'Are you okay, Zoya?', I had asked.

She had just crashed against my chest, crying. She cried her heart out and I sat there not knowing what to do. I just placed my arm around her back and started rubbing it. I was panicking.

'I'll die too', she said between her tears.

Her words pierced my heart like a dagger would. It cut through it. Why would she say that? Is she sad about her parents? I wanted to bang my head on the wall for asking her about her parents.

I just sat there, hugging her back. And while she was there in my arms, I realised something. I was in love. I was in love with the girl from the bar, the girl in my arms, her hair, her smile, her full lips. Everything. I knew it.

I had bid farewell to her for the day. A week later, we met in the bar, and it was like the whole thing never happened. We danced together, sang together. We even kissed. A gentle, slow kiss which I had initiated when I saw a drop of coke resting on the side of her lips. I couldn't resist.

I saw her standing up. Why was she standing up?

'You're my only hope. Please don't go', I heard say.

There was no one else on the street, it was midnight. And if she was talking to me, why was she not facing me? Why was she facing the street light?

Wait. What? She couldn't possibly be talking to the street light, could she?

I found myself walking faster towards her. But then I stopped. Would she want to see me? She hadn't since the past month. She had stopped coming to the bar, but would often be seen sitting outside it on the footpath when it closed.

She had refused to open the door when I went to check up on her. We had exchanged numbers, but she neither answered my calls, nor replied to my texts. Maybe she wasn't liking the equation between us. Maybe she didn't love me the way I loved her. Maybe my confession had hurt her.

I found myself going back to the last day she was seen inside the club.

'Zoya', I had whispered in her ear as my hands held her waist and we danced.

'Hmm?', he had replied, her head resting at the crook of my neck. I loved the feeling of her body pressed to mine. Her perfume creating a havoc on my senses. A typical man in love, I had thought chuckling.

'Why you laughing?', she had cutely asked, drawing her head away to face me.

'I need to tell you something', I had said.

It was strange how we could hear each other talking even when the music blared every so loudly in the club.

'What?', she had asked, her nose scrunching, her lips forming a pout.

I wanted to kiss her. But I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell her what I felt. My heart's story.

I held her hands gently in mine. They seemed like a perfect fit. I spinned her on the dance floor, pulling her flush against my chest.

'I love you', I whispered in her ear, smiling.

I waited for her smile. I waited for her confession.

It never came. Instead came a tear drop rolling down her face. I was shocked seeing how her body which had been so relaxed and calmed against mine, now stiffened. Then came what I never thought would come. She pushed me away from my chest, and ran outside crying.

No one had noticed it seemed. But I didn't care about that. I ran after her but she had taken a cab. I drove to her house and banged on the door. She never opened.

Then followed two weeks of my trying to reach her in every way possible, and her avoiding me every way possible. I gave up.

I was heartbroken. But every day I came to this very spot, to see her sitting outside the club, smiling at the street light. I knew this would be my only dose of seeing her. After two hours of looking at her from behind the tree, I would go back home.

But that day, for the first time I heard her talk. She was begging the flickering street light to not go. Why would it go? And more importantly, why was she doing this?

I was now a inches away from her, behind her. She was constantly begging the street light.

'Zoya', I said in a softy.

She stopped her begging. She slowly turned around. Her tear-stricken face killed me. Even though her sad smile killed him, he wished he could see that again instead of this.

'Asad', she whispered softly. 'Please tell her not to go'.

I went forward and hugged her. She cried, just like that day but this time, kept requesting me to stop 'her' from going.

'I'll die, Asad', she said holding my shirt from near the chest, facing me. 'If she goes, I'll die'.

I gently stroked her back and asked her what I wanted to since I came here today.

'Who, Zoya?'.

She pointed to the street light. The flickering street light. So I was right. It was that street light.

'You know why I have been avoiding the world and specially you, Asad?', she said softly facing the street light, her body shaking.

My chest constricted.

'Why?', I asked.

I badly wanted to know.

'Because I'll leave and you'll be hurt'.

'What?', I asked her confused.

She turned around, facing me once again, pointing at the street light.

'What will happen if that street light goes off?'

'It would be dark', I said not understanding.

'Exactly', she said cupping my face. 'It would be dark when I will go, Asad. Your life will be dark. Don't love me. You should not love me'.

What was she saying? Where was she going? A lump in my throat was disturbing me, and my vision blurred with tears. Her eyes were already forming tears and they cascaded down her face uncontrollably already.

'Fourth stage', she whispered.

'What?', I asked confused.

'I have cancer. Fourth stage', she revealed.

The ground beneath my feet shook violently. The sky above my head started falling and I could feel myself crushing between the two. Cancer? She couldn't have cancer. She can't.

'That's a lie', I said stupidly.

'Doctors say I'll die anytime these days', she said rubbing her thumbs on my face, trying to console me.

'That's a lie!', I screamed at her pushing her away.

I turned to face the bar. It was where they had met.

'I love you, Asad', I heard her whisper behind me.

'Thats a lie too', I said as my shoulders shook and I cried.

I know I was being selfish. Extremely selfish. But I couldn't help it. She can't have cancer. She couldn't.

'I love you too much', I heard her whisper. 'Never forget'.

'Stop it', I said in a voice so low I was sure she couldn't hear. It was hurting me. Her every word hit me like I was being shot at continuously. I couldn't let her go. I wiped my tears and I turned around.

And that was the moment my life ended and turned me into a living corpse.

There she lay on the road, her face calm as never before. I would have noticed a peaceful smile on her face had it not been so dark.

It was off, i noticed. The street light was off.

And so was my life.

It was now just the dark.

Forever.

And now as I lay on my deathbed, I am happy for the first time in thirty years. I'm sad I'll be leaving my children and my wife. But they all know I'm happy.

I'll be with her again. With my love. I too was diagnosed with cancer a year back.

And ever since then, I get dreams of her standing in a white gown, her arms wide open, inviting me to embrace her. The street light next to her, shining brightly. Ever so brightly.

Zoya, my love. I shall join you very soon. And this time, nothing can tear us apart. Not even death.

A/N:

Feedbacks please. 😳 🤗