Last Date

In lonely, dark and melancholic nights like this; my heart wanders on every single thought blacklisted as not-worth-remembering by my brain. Things like childhood dreams, lost opportunities, failures; but most importantly ex-lovers come to my mind. And even in these long interminable list of ex-es; one name, one face and that one damn voice keep lingering in my mind as if it has a soul of its own.

He was my first love. The first person to whom I professed my infinite love and forevers. The first person to whom I uttered those three magical words,'I love you', and the only man to whom I actually meant it. Like two sides of a coin, obviously, he was also the first man in this world of 7 billion people, to break my heart. I wasn't his first love, but also, most sorrowfully I'll never be his last.

Even though now he is married and has two children, one of them having my name, one last wish gnaws in my heart in nights like this. I know it's probably a sin according to my Christian beliefs but my heart refuses to feel ashamed or guilty. It hopes against hope that someday, some night, at least for a few hours, we could go on one last date. 

Before his marriage, to be precise, three days before he officially became somebody else's, we were supposed to meet in our once-favourite cafe for one last time. My sister had begged him for his time and made all the arrangements. And I... I got all excited and nervous as if it was our very first date together and got dolled up like a fool. I wore that sleek, long, black dress I had kept reserved for some special occasion and even took an advance marriage gift in hand to avoid suspicion. But he never came. He broke his promise like always.

And I waited, expectantly, turning and looking through the glass window in the cafe, at the slowly emptying street below the dark sky; at the sound of a car braking or at the sight of every man who came around the bend of the road; I looked eagerly to find some tiny little trace of him. But he didn't come. 

Even when I paid the bill for the cold sandwich I ordered but never ate; even when every customer in the cafe looked pitiably at me; I kept wishing against wish, he would turn up at the last minute with a lame excuse to at least have dinner with me for one last time. But he didn't.

While I walked through the street, stopping and looking back at the cafe every now and then, to check if he had come; the neon lights fading; praying he had some valid reason for being late, hoping he would jump at me from some secret corner of the street shouting 'surprise'... But he didn't. He never came. And I… I never stopped looking back for him...