In Vain

June 25, 2023. Now.

She waits. Her heart beats faster than the small hand on her clock but she remained sitting on that old bench. That one particular wooden bench that witnessed everything about them.

June 4, 2016.  Saturday.

8 years had passed since that serendipitous moment. Everything was picturesque, she was walking from the other end of the path walk, on the other side was a girl holding a cup of coffee, oblivious of the magic that was about to happen. He was sitting there, on that bench. Everything happened fast, one moment they were all just tiny puzzle pieces waiting to fit then suddenly, with a pair of feeble hands and a few perfectly placed stones, the girl’s coffee was all over the place. Her dress was stained; the book that he was reading was drenched and just like that, their lives were all tangled up. Again.

June 7, 2016. Tuesday.

They both discovered that they were in the same class. They smiled at each other and uttered there first hello. (Or so they thought.)

June 7, 2003. Monday.

That wasn’t there first hello. This was their first hello, under the class of Mrs. Zaragosa – their nursery teacher. She said hello, he offered her his friendship.

October 31, 2016. Monday.

He offered her his love. This was the first time that they held each other’s hands. (Or maybe not.)

July 5, 2003. Monday.

This was the first time that they held hands. The first time that he wiped her tears. The first time that he saved her from those stupid boys who ridiculed her braid. She gave him her clip. He smiled, she called him her best friend.

And for the first time, were not just two puzzle pieces, they were the picture. Playgrounds are now castles, lunch break are no longer just lunch breaks. But both remained clueless about their fate.

April 6, 2004. Wednesday.

The first time that he made her cry. This was the first time that he bid goodbye. She was furious that her best friend’s promise that he will never leave her side has been broken. And for the first time, they were both broken. Too young, too soon.

December 26, 2016. Monday.

She said yes.

And just like that they were not just two puzzle pieces, they were the picture. Days were spent happily, nights were treated magically. Both oblivious that they have met before, shared family picnics together. Both oblivious to the fact that her old best friend, confidante, and savior is the same man who looks at her lovingly before kissing her forehead. Both were clueless.

May 23, 2018. Wednesday.

He gave up; she gave him a reason to. She begged him to stay but it was impossible because he already left.

August 30, 2019. Friday.

He passed the board exam.  She is boarding a plane to London. Both were clueless.

September 19, 2021. Sunday.

They bump into each other in Paris. Someone was waiting for him, her boss was calling her. Ironic. They were in the most romantic city in the world and all they did was uttered their awkward hellos.

April 22, 2022. Friday.

A memorable event for the field of science, someone has found a cure for selective amnesia.

July 16, 2022. Sunday.

He found the clip.

September 15, 2022. Thursday.

She has recovered. Both were not as clueless as before.

February 10, 2023. Friday.

Facebook vanished. She was clueless on his whereabouts. He was oblivious about her plans. She was hopeless.

 

June 23,2015. Friday.

She was searching for him. He found her. She was hopeful. They uttered their hellos and catch up over some coffee at a local café. She was about to say it, but someone called him, says it was an emergency. She gave him her number, he promised to meet with her again. She readily agreed.

Serendipitous, isn’t it? Destiny really is tricky and twisted. She now believes that he is meant for her. That he is her happily ever after. Imagine all those tiny tiny details and little signs that are pointing to him. She believes that they belong together, that they were meant for each other.

 

 

June 25, 2023. Now.

She waits. Her heart beats faster than the small hand on her clock but she remained sitting on that old bench. That one particular wooden bench that witnessed everything about them. Everything was picturesque; he was walking from the other end of the path walk, she waived her hands, he smiled at her. ‘This is it.’ She thought.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Before she could say anything, he handed her a box.

“What is this?” she asked smiling wide, her eyes were hopeful.

“An invitation…” He said smiling, unmindful of the sound of her heart breaking into tiny pieces as she looked down at the box and started opening it. “… Remember that girl who spilled her coffee to us? Were getting married soon! It’s such a funny story, isn’t it?”

June 26, 2023. Monday.

It was not a funny story.

It wasn’t their story.

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