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How Blue Is My Sapphire
How Blue Is My Sapphire
★★★★★

© Geetika Gupta

Drama Others Fantasy

12 Minutes   10.8K    311


Content Ranking

After 18 full months, we had planned our rendezvous. That longing to see each other and the serenity of being in each other’s arms, the happiness to see pure love in his eyes and the bliss of simply being myself was above everything. And despite having all the hurdles, our meeting was perfect.

I reached Connaught Place, Delhi way before his arrival time. The sun was at its best. The hot ultraviolet rays were kissing my face, giving me hot splashes; but the excitement to meet my lover was beyond everything. After travelling a couple of hours I look exhausted. I couldn’t meet him like that. Could I?

And so, carrying my entire luggage, I entered one of the fancy cafes in the circle. Basically I just wanted to use their powder room, but I had to order something, may be a virgin mojito, for the formality of course, but first I decided to freshen up. The moment the door attendant opened the door, a cool breeze wafted through the door and caressed my skin. It felt soothing.

After splattering some cold water, a bit of make-up and a nice perfume, and of course after doing my hair, I was all set to meet him. I started looking refreshing all again.

And here was his call, which to my surprise was a bit early.

“Hi! Your flight has landed?”

“Yes, sweetheart! Just have to collect my luggage.”

“Great. See you. Give me a call when you leave.”

Gosh! That meant I didn’t have much time to myself. Plus I wanted to buy something for him. And he’d already reached. Chuck the mojito. I had to leave asap!

Most of the staff who saw me entering with my luggage recognized me as the girl who came to use the washroom. Not that any of it matters to me.

Hot winds welcomed me again but as they say, love is above everything, isn’t it? It sure was giving me the strength to take the efforts that would bring a smile on my beloved’s face.

First, I entered United Colours of Benetton and I didn’t like anything but the air conditioned store was keeping me intact and wander inside for no reason. Soon, a corner grabbed my attention that displayed an array of fancy bottles. I loved it in one bit. My heart had already decided to pick one of them up. After scrutinising a couple of fragrances, my heart had selected the right one but my mind wasn’t done yet. It wanted to wander on the streets. It wanted me to roam on the streets to find the perfect gift.

I entered a couple of stores moving to and fro in the circle, seeking directions and earning yet another tag: the girl walking for no reason in this burning heat. I attended a few calls of his that made sure that he wasn’t going to be around anytime soon. I would have easily sat in that cafe and enjoyed my mojito without being tagged as the washroom girl or the wandering girl. But that was okay. Nothing is above love, right?

After strolling in the circles of CP, I was back at my first store, UCB and finally collected the gift my heart picked up first. Sometimes I wonder why I always end up becoming the victim of my heart and mind’s war.

The common social obligation is that that we shouldn’t gift perfumes to anyone, but we had crossed that stage. After all, it was a decade old relationship. We were kids when we started dating, and now we’ve kind of grown old together.

After assessing all the eating joints and looking down at my ever increasing waistline and knowing what the evening has in store  for me, I decided to settle at a place where something healthy was being served. Yes, for a change I was conscious, I was keeping an eye on my weight. Yes, I was trying to be on a diet, on a Saturday, with my boyfriend whom I was meeting after ages!! Yes, that’s me!

I obviously reached before and ordered my mojito. Aryan reached a couple of minutes later. It was soothing to see him after months. We hugged each other and decided to do our lunch fast so that we could do each other!

There are certain things which I end up forgetting when it comes to how one should behave when in a relationship. Holding hands, losing one in each others eyes is beyond my reach. But Aryan, he isn’t like that. He knows everything just right. He knows when am I worked up and how do I need be brought back, he knows how and when to touch me, how to spread his magic simply by drowning in my eyes and saying the right words every time, genuinely giving those perfect compliments that automatically charge me up. He knows me way too well I suppose.

After filling our bellies we were off to our hotel where we’d be spending the remaining day and night of course.

Finally, we were in our room, not to mention in each others’ arms. We kissed. And kissed and kissed. The locking and licking of lips, those tongues dancing the joy of love, fighting and loving with each other, was turning me on. 

He undressed me and loved me like never before. It felt heaven.

It was passionate love that we made. It was after ages that I felt loved. I felt like I belonged. I felt wanted. I felt alive. My soul that had been lying like a dead fish came to life the moment he touched me. It was a moment of complete tranquillity. And laying in his arms post the act, snuggling around, planting soft kisses and playing made it everlasting.

We spent the entire day beside each other and decided to go out for clubbing in the evening. It was for the first time we were going to a discotheque together. Yes, we never got the chance to explore it before with each other.

I wore my black sleeveless high-low dress with sequins on the neckline teamed up with black stilettos and he wore a nice crisp shirt with jeans. He looked handsome. ‘And I looked sexy,’ that’s what he said.

After hopping at a few lounges and witnessing the madness of the crowd on a Saturday night, we finally got two seats. The lounge wasn’t very happening. The crowd was dull, but like I said, we managed to get the seats. We had vodka and then decided to leave the place. I wanted to dance and this place wasn’t very apt for dancing and lurking.

We then reached another lounge. It seemed nice. The music was loud, the crowd looked enthusiastic, the bar looked amazing and I felt incredible. We called for two kamikaze shots. The waiter was taking ages to bring in the order but seeing the amount of crowd, it wasn’t his fault. They were a bit tangy, tasted more like lemonade. We didn’t get a feel of the alcohol, at all.

Then we called for two tequila shots. In between, we were catching up the sight around us. Things clearly had changed over a period of time in India, and public display of affection which is a taboo in the daylight becomes the most coveted act in these clubs and bars. Girls were all grooving on the tune of music, kissing and caressing their boyfriends in between, taking a sip from their drinks and then getting back on the floor to show their perfect moves with their perfect curves. I wish I had those perfect curves. Damn.

But my man loved me just the way I am and loved my body just the way it was.

After a tequila shot, one above and beyond and one hajmola shot, I wasn’t feeling high. Something was going wrong. Time had come to hit the dance floor.

And the music track was spreading its own magic. Baby, I’m worth it, give it to me I’m worth it, hips don’t lie, rolling in the deep, in the end, anaconda and on and on and on. I was dancing, mostly losing myself in the music and in Aryan, we were kissing each other and holding tight and shaking our booties and dancing, as if no one was watching, as if there was no tomorrow. But, I wasn’t high! And so we called for a large 500 ml Long Island Iced Tea. And the bartender made it just fine. Just the way I like it.

And then the night started to begin.

I started getting high; I wasn’t watching my moves but was displaying them without hesitation. I was happy high with my Aryan.

What if I was different? What if I was more of a simple girl with a simple life? My craving for independence, over-salaciousness and innate obsession with a materialistic lifestyle was a serious blow to my five-year-old marriage with Sudhir. My in-laws found me lying wounded in the bedroom. That night, within a short span of time, the banter turned into a heated argument, aggression, confrontation and then its manifestation. Sudhir shut me up with a vigorous jerk and beating and left the place in a fury.

It took a great deal of time for me to come out of that marriage but eventually, I did. How I wish I’d married Aryan in the first place. What if he was settled when my father was looking for the right guy? But he was only a student then! Everything would be so different altogether. I’d be a happier person, a secured person. I wouldn’t have wasted my 5 years on a futile marriage. But I’m so glad I didn’t cut my contact with Aryan after marriage. He has always been with me, through thick and thin. He never held my hand but he never let go of me.

Moments from that abusive relationship with Sudhir still haunts me and gives me sleepless nights. The beating, the blame game, the disrespect, the hatred he had towards me! Sometimes I wonder, why and how on earth was I bearing it all? Where was I getting the strength to stay in it? He detested me, he detested every single thing I did, and I still was living with it, putting a plastic smile on my face every morning for the world! I still get goosebumps when I think of those times!

Sometimes I wonder why was I doing all this? What was it giving me? Why was I risking my life for it?

My conscious reply to this is, “Whatever happens, happens for a reason. I would never value Aryan before as much as I’d value him now. Choice is mine, to accept all of it and move ahead or sulk about everything that happened in the past and sabotage my present.”

All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.

Just then, Aryan calls out my name and bring me back to the present happy endeavours. We went towards the bar and asked for a few pictures, and mind you those were few of the best pictures we’d taken together in ages! I couldn’t be any happier. I asked the bartender for another drink, another shot, that could take me to another level, without thinking about the consequences.

And there it was. My next drink. Absinthe! No, it wasn’t the first time I was going to try it and it wasn’t the first time I had mixed up the drinks. People always say one shouldn’t mix as it causes one to puke. But the mixing works just fine for me. I always get happy high. Touchwood to my system!

But the absinthe shot... that was the first time for me! And I had it. In one go! And I was fine. I complimented a girl that night and got a compliment back. Random compliments are always special, aren’t they?

Just a few minutes of endless laughter and the bartender called it a night. While getting down from the stairs, I had a fall and ended up hurting my knees. That was the first sign of me getting out of control. Aryan called for a cab and dragged me into it. The moment I sat in the cab, I puked. Outside the car of course, but I spoiled my dress and the car a bit. Our hotel was a 5-minute ride but I made it 30, stopping the cab every 2 minutes to puke! I was feeling disgusted. I was talking something in my head. And my head, it was spinning. It felt as if someone was hammering it, as if the world is going round and it was impossible to stop everything that was moving around.

The moment I stepped out of the car to get into the hotel, a dog came by and started barking at me. Did he know I was drunk? Do dogs have that power? And I was shouting at the top of my voice, trying to voice him down but it wasn’t helping him stay quiet and so I kicked him away. Not very harshly, but he did seem to vanish somewhere.

We reached our room and Aryan laid me in bed. As my clothes were ruined, he took them off. All this while, I was barely in my senses. He took off my dress and made me sleep.

And I didn’t feel like making love as well that night.

Next morning, I was lying naked beside him. Why don’t I remember anything from last night? And why am I lying naked? Chuck it! Sigh!

I cuddled up in his arms. I felt the hangover, but I felt much better in the morning. It was a nice cosy romantic time I’d spent in the morning after a long time.

I got up and saw my dress was a bit clean. Of course, Aryan cleaned it. I saw my shoes well placed, I saw my stuff in a tidy manner and it was all Aryan who did it. He took care of everything last night, including me, when I was sloshed and drowned in drinks; he was the one acting sober for me... for us. I sure am lucky to have him in my life.

Pondering over how my marriage was, I became even more firm about my relationship with Aryan. I chose my happiness above everything and accepted what had happened to me in the past. That whatever moments we get we should make the most of them. What happened is not important but what’s going to come is what means more.

Yes, I’ve become that person, who doesn’t let her past affect her future. And I feel happy to feel that way.

 

 

Love romance fiction fun passion

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