~In Love.~

"Maybe, it's the way you say my name,

Maybe, it's the way you play your game.

But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you.

But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime,

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine."

************

The days were passing in a blur, just like life, fastly, unnoticeably, and unstoppably.

But, each day, each moment, contained memories to cherish or to despise forever.

"What is love?" Zaid asked. His expression was one of deep but thoughtless concentration, an expression that he had rarely, if ever seen on himself. "Does it hurt?"

"Love is the purest emotion," Annie answered, with a small smile of earnestness setting upon her mouth as she watched Zaid staring at her in pure wonder.

"Love can never hurt," she continued, her words ringing true and clear. "Not ever."

It was the weekly session of Zaid's talk therapy with Annie. As far as everything was concerned, the sessions were going quite smoothly. Although she still hadn't come face to face with any of the other personalities, Annie was still happy with the progress.

Zaid had begun to open up to her --- that's what she thinks, the statement was absolutely based on the point of her views.

Just like the others, she was unable to see beyond the point where he hasn't granted permission of revelation; he hadn't let any of his valuable secrets out, including the dangerous ones.

"What made you so sure about this?" He asked again. Her answer did not disappoint him, however. "What if love can hurt?"

"That's not possible." Annie smiled once more. She wasn't entirely sure why, but when the question hit her with a certain amount of conviction, it was easy for her to say the right thing, even without thinking twice.

"If in love, one begins to hurt his loved one then, it's not love anymore. It will be better to call it poison, calling those things as the way of loving will be an insult," she said, almost confident, and yet, somehow also uncertain. "Love doesn't work this way. Pain and love don't go together, just like moon and sun can't share the same sky."

"They can be together. . . ." Zaid muttered under his breath, not really looking towards her. His attention seemed concentrated elsewhere; somewhere far away. "In a selenelion, the sun and moon share the sky, together."

Heeding his words, Annie blinked a moment of qualm, a little unsure of what to say to the man before her.

"Sorry, my bad. I should have thought a bit more." She laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "But Zaid, what I'm trying to say is that in love you can't hurt your loved ones, if you did then it means you never loved them."

Love can't hurt. . . .

His gaze returned to her eyes once again, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

He looked almost lost.

"How. . . ." After a brief pause, his eyes turned to the window. She could hear the fear in his voice, the scepticism of something he dared not ask.

"How does it feels when one falls in love?" With this question, the look on his face was distant, similar to his unapproachable aura, beyond reach.

But there was a fresh look in his eyes, something akin to hope that, perhaps, he could believe it would turn out all right. "How do they feel? What does it feel like to be in love?"

"Euphoric," she spoke with no uncertainty, her mind recalling the time when she fell in love with someone, who is now her husband and the father of her child. "It's warm, sweet, and gentle. You just know it's there, and that nothing hurts, even if nothing ever seems to go well."

"It doesn't sound so bad," abruptly, Zaid mused, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he glanced at her with a subtle smile on his lips.

"Yup! It feels as if life just showed you its brightest and liveliest side, where there is nothing but happiness accompanying your sweetly annoying emotions." Annie laughed, feeling somewhat proud of herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sometimes, the more bitter it begins, the sweeter it ends."

Shravya's eyes swept over the book's page as she read out that poem, the silence in the room making enough space for her low voice to reach Zaid, who was sitting behind his working desk, busy on his laptop.

"Sometimes, the tidiest you want it to be, the messier it gets." She looked at him and saw that he had stopped his typing to look up at her, his gaze holding attentiveness.

"Sometimes, its ways seem fair but then, unfair."

The words rang through her mind like a song, and as if by magic, the memory returned to her like a dream, one moment vivid, the next fading as she continued.

"Sometimes, the harder it appears, the comfy it turns out to be."

It seemed to go on forever until she reached the last two lines.

"This is life, that's how it works," she finished, slowly closing the book with both hands. "Its taste is neither sweet nor bitter, it's bittersweet."

Her eyes moved to Zaid and then to the bookshelf, where her favourite reading material rested on top of several others.

"I could get used to this," Zaid remarked quietly, the tenderness hailing in his tone.

Shravya looked back at him, settled on the sofa a little away from his desk, her face betraying only the slightest surprise.

They both were in his study. It was more like Shravya accompanying Zaid to put away his loneliness --- he requested her presence, especially after the talking session with Annie in the morning.

Since he talked to Annie about love, he had been feeling an unexplainable disquietude.

He exactly couldn't explain that unease through words. That uneasiness felt strange but good in a weird way.

Like he had finally found something he was looking for.

But not knowing what he was searching for made him even more restless than before --- and now, sitting here in front of his desk, he didn't know what to do with himself anymore except absorbing the peace her presence always provides.

He has believed that she is the solace herself, but is she really his?

Does her being the solace make her his? His solace?

Her sitting before him, reading out a poem to him - does it make her his?

The wedding ring on her ring finger, her being his wife - does it make her his?

Do these material aspects really makes her his?

Is she really his?

If she really is, then why does it feel as if she is not...his? Not really.

Why does it feel as if every little moment they had spent together all was a lie he was feeding himself?

"What happened?" Shravya asked suddenly, interrupting his reverie and pulling his attention to herself.

"Huh? What?" He responded distractedly, still wondering if he would ever find a word to describe the thoughts that torments him.

She frowned slightly, giving him a questioning look. "You look distrait. Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing to worry about." Zaid gently shook his head before giving her a soft smile. "What was that poem about?"

"Didn't you hear?" Slightly frowning, she hummed lightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "It was about life."

Life.

Sighing pensively, Zaid leaned his head back against his chair, glancing at the classy artistic work on the ceiling.

"Life, hmm?" Tentatively his gazes travelled, stopping upon the chandelier hanging by the ceiling, in the middle of the room.

Slowly his thoughts drifted towards their owner, thinking of her gentle laugh and her warm, loving smile.

His hand subconsciously touched the ring on his left hand, a faint yet familiar sensation of warmth spreading across his body, ending the chain of his troublesome questions and bringing a sense of comfort to him.

The ring, it was the sign of their bond --- he was hers and she was his.

A sign - those ornaments to describe their bond was all that suddenly mattered to him. The rings seemed enough.

"That sounds quite lovely," he whispered, allowing his eyes to meet hers as he straightened up before walking over to her, with passive and quiet steps.

Suddenly becoming aphonic, Shravya watched as he approached her, stopping and leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead, softly caressing her skin before stepping away.

He stopped a few steps away, propping his hands into the pockets of his pants, and resting his back upon the huge transparent window, the aura of his stance filled with alluring grace.

"I want to hear something about love," he spoke, soon settling his mouth into a flawless and composed smile. "Read me a poem of love."

"Love?" Shravya questioned, unconsciously. A strange heat-filled sensation was dithering over her forehead as well as the areas which went touched by him.

A little bit dazed, she glanced at the book resting in her lap before staring at him.

It was afternoon. The sunlight pouring inside through the massive windows made the room look warm, embellishing the elegance of the vast space whose architectural work was nothing but classy and expensive --- everything was perfectly complimentary to him, to their beguiling owner.

"A poem that speaks about love," she whispered, almost as if confirming it to herself. "You want to hear it?" Her hazel eyes searched for any hesitation in his coal-black ones.

But she found none.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room smelled like fresh paint. It reminded him of the smell of newly painted walls. It cued the existence of some deceased moments.

Alone, Zaid was sitting before the easel, which was holding a canvas with a half-done painting.

Even before the painting was done, he could imagine what it was going to look like, how beautiful it was going to look --- it was her painting after all.

Just some more innocent brush moments, and it would be done. He couldn't bring himself a strong chain of patience to wait for the result.

Impatientness was evident in his dark eyes, seeming to give up on toleration of time with each decreeing second.

Gently gripping the paintbrush, he again began with his work.

Just a few more moments and the image within his mind would be set free, free from its cage. Free from its constraints. Free from its shackles.

~~~~~~

On the canvas, the pair of hazel brown eyes stared back at Zaid, adorning the beauty of their beholder.

Those hazel eyes, they looked as if they had seen a million suns in a single blink --- that's how magnificent the shine of their brown sun seemed.

Above everything, it was their gaze that drew him. It seemed to have been drawn from somewhere deep inside the painting itself, and was fixed on him in a manner of curiosity he couldn't name nor decipher.

Deliberately, he reached out, the tip of his fingers sliding against the canvas's surface. The eyes on the painting seemed to be staring into his soul, sending down chills to his spine at the feeling of something he couldn't quite put his fingers on.

What good could someone like her see in someone like him?

The thought alone tangled the thread of his emotions into a knot, bringing every possible sentiment together.

He stopped, peering at his work in suspicion, trying to find faults to confront the reality which was screaming on his face --- that he had painted those eyes, their gaze, in the same way she looks at him in reality.

His fingertips brushed against the canvas once again, careful to not abandon behind a faint trace of his presence there.

He painted nothing wrong.

It was true - she looks at him with uttermost warmth. A warmth that always leaves his heart snuggling with a certain emotion in comfort.

That certain emotion was love.

He tucked in a deep breath, the corners of his mouth lifting together into a smile which seemed to belong to a teenage boy in his first love --- the smile was that innocent.

He didn't know why it suddenly felt as if he was in love, again.

As if he was falling in love, all over again.

And, that feeling was painfully sweet.

~Cause, I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'll be mine...mine.

And, I see forever in your eyes, I feel okay when I see you smile...smile.~

If you like the chapter then please follow me PanchiVerma (for Instagram, check out the link in my bio)

Q - So, how was the chapter people?

Well, I just wanna say that enjoy these sweet chapters when I'm writing them, who knows what might happen next ¯⁠\⁠(⁠◉⁠‿⁠◉⁠)⁠/⁠¯