Vansh’s POV :
Trying to hold on the sunshine,in my hands,I was learning the somethings are not meant to be ..forever there.
So I just opened the old shelf,took out some books,that I remember,mom told is ancestral pride of our house,as they were given to my grandparents,from great authors or poets,or I dont know. I never thought to given evening,which was normally filled of rustle for me to finish the pending files ,today everything was silent.
Scrolling through the pages,when it was number 54,It reminded me of you. The way it was mentioned, Speech is not always needed to learn,the deepest of wounds,my love,it Is you.
And then you took no moment,in sliding the glass window panes,your luminescence, more than the dazzling sunshine of the evening sun,like that of sand grains twinkle,and the softest touch of yours,that reminded me of the fact they told,water,something that can be termed as the softest and hardest too.
Oh the warmth,the warmth of your palms,do you know it has started to mimic that of your heart? Your heart,more warmer than the mist of a dense forest in noon light,it forgave me everytime,everytime you needed me besides ,for me to know your pain,via your eyes,and I could never meet your …
And then the windy gush,the pages of books started to flutter,and I tried to hold on the page for long,But all in vain,you disappeared, and I was there with all the broken fragments,like that of the cracks which develop in nascent ice,all I can do is to wait for the moment,to once againmeet you my eyes,my eyes demanding apology for every hurting convo,I know,you will listen to all …and I just want to reside,to reside in the deepest emotional turmoil,where you and me,no more dreams or reality…and asking for last same love vibes…Riddhima,Can you hold for some more time?