The Unsaid

The furious ocean was raging relentlessly at our feet. His tees lay in a drenched heap, next to my hands that were resting upon the jagged ends of the rock. The sun had already disappeared below the horizon. A giant wake struck, sending a shower of salty water atop us. He lifted his face to the vivid sky before shifting his gaze towards me. The voice of the waves drowned out for a while as the last rays of the sun touched his bare chest and soaked face. I moved closer to him, still holding the gaze. My heart raced as I saw his lips materialising those words. I sensed the soft breeze stroke my wet skin and damp hair. Soon his eyes drifted to the horizon as a flight of seagulls dotted the sky. He interlocked his fingers with mine and casually rested them on the jagged rock with his eyes still fixed on the darkening ocean.

The music had died out long back and the floor was littered with flowers, empty bottles and upturned shoes. The sofas were lined up with our friends who had passed out after the celebration. I realised that we were the only ones who were dancing. The fairy lights that lined the arch was flickering as we crossed them. With sly smiles, we reached out for the last beer on the rack and flipped it open. My gown had turned tawny and the withered flowers on my hair had dropped onto the shoulders. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long sip. I ridiculed his stained tuxedo, loosened necktie and unkempt hair while he pointed out my smudged eyes and broken heels. His fingers reached out to my hair and removed the withered flowers from the intricacies of the curls before dusting off the few on my shoulders. His hands rested on my neck for a while.

'Maybe now?', I thought to myself.

 He reached out to the bottle that was resting on his thigh and extended it towards me. I took a sip knowing that those words had again died out in his tongue.  

The air was humid inside the barely lit living room and each breath felt heavy. I rushed to the door upon hearing the knock and there he was. My eyes abruptly noticed the grazing mark of bullet on his arm, that was holding tightly onto the wrapped package. The sound of a blast interrupted us and he hastily pulled me by the arm inside, locking the door behind. I could heard his thumping heart as I rested my head against him. Our three year old throttled towards us and took the wrap from his arm. She unfurled it on the floor and bit into the roll of stuffed roti. We looked at her and I felt his arms tightening around me. I gazed into his eyes, which mirrored the fear and relief that I felt at that moment. This time too I knew that he wouldn't say those words that I have been longing to hear. Those three words were present in the clammy air around us, in the dew drops on our window and in every moment that we had shared.