Happy Valentine’s Day, love!

"Prisha, you know, I keep dreaming about you," Sahil says. "You're out jogging around the park in the morning or reading some book or you're just laying in bed with a bad headaches." he stops rocking his chair.

"You are so gorgeous, with your hair fanned out on the pillow petals of a flower. That delicate curve on your wrist bones when you pressed your thumb and middle finger to your temples to stop the unbearable pain in your head. You'd not move, tangled in the white sheets, like a body at the morgue came back to life, unexpectedly", said Sahil rocking his chair backward.

"You laid there all day, always still; cradling your head in your hands, fingers crawling on your face like spiders to ease the throbbing. You'd barely eat anything but crackers but you'd still smile at me when I stood in the doorway watching you. Years spent like this, the occasional headaches that left you bed ridden", and Sahil rocks his chair forward.


"And one day you were not here, anymore. Your headaches were spent in the hospital, with those white collared depressive nurses and doctors and choking tubes and beeping screens. The white sheets weren't the same as the ones at our home. They were too starched and stiff. I remember, you said you missed our floral purple curtains, the green walls and the softness of the pillow.” Sahil kept rocking the chair, mindlessly.

”I went back home to get it for you and when I returned, you were not in that bed and that helpless look doctor’s face just said “I am sorry for your loss” and then I was asked to sign some papers and they put you in a box, into the dirt."

Sahil stops rocking his chair as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Happy valentine's day, honey."