The Perfect Love

She was the Queen of her own terms. He aimed of being the Man who played by his own rules.

Although it seems like the plot of just another love flick, it is yet to be told….

—-

Tinkerbell Doll sat on her lush lavender cushion among the treasuries and trinkets which were kept carelessly in semi-opened boxes and baskets layered with laces and ribbons. The mirror with the antique touch reflected the bed of satin sheets and pillows among which she lay sleeping with her eyes open. Even the kohl stained teary cheeks and her unkempt hair couldn’t hide the pretty that defined the contours of her face.

The curtain drapes obeyed her wishes to an extent that the room hadn’t witnessed any direct ray of the sun for the last three days. She lay so still that no amount of contemplation could prove the thought that she was thinking and the life she was breathing. The mellow light that traveled through the curtains during the day met the feathers of the shredded cushions from the other what could have been her big night.

She was still in the pale blue dress she had picked out from the latest Haute Couture collection. The fabric defined her curves beautifully and even after three days of her being in it in her worst disheveled look, it didn’t make her look any less desirable for any man.

Her tears had dried up sooner than anybody who knew her womanly soul could have expected. The silence which she turned to, worried everyone but no one dared to voice her of their concern fearing the repercussion she might resort too. For all those who knew her, knew her well to know that only time and soundless sounds healed her wounds and any interference and consolations only angered her more.

Coming to terms with reality never seemed a like a difficult task for her. Her aura ruled the time, space and atmosphere that she was in. She may not have been the most beautiful face in every situation but her very presence demanded undisturbed attention from all those around her at any moment. She was at every moment, a Queen.

—-

Glints of the flames from the fire place reflected upon his glass of scotch on the rocks every time he turned it between his fingers. There was a slight curve on the left side of his lips and not a sign of remorse in those unblinking eyes. A happy state of blankness was relished with every sip of the drink he took.

He picked up the remote and touch upon ‘PLAY’ and Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” mellowly seeped into every every corner of the room just as the his thoughts started to fill in the blank. His love for the genre was evident with the two grand pianos in contrasting shades of Black & White that were placed in two corners of aesthetically interior-ed living room of his pent house on the 28th Floor.

Walking over to the window, he stared at the glimmering light of the city. His alcohol influenced state of mind made him imagine her on the other side of the glass. He smiled, turned away and walked towards his room. For the first time in a decade someone had made an impression on him and after months he chose just himself and his thoughts as company for the night. He forced his preferably weak memory to remember those perfectly shaped doe-eyes that tend to control his every move for the evening.

He walked into his room and turned to close the doors behind him and while he did that, his mind questioned him “Was it worth it?” and he smilingly whispered to himself “Totally.”

(to be continued…)

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