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"Appa," I shuffled my feet, staring at my toes. "This is Ayush,"

Ayush was an average guy, who fell in love with an average girl, me. The two of us had met on their freshman year of college, it had just started as a summer fling. But for Ayush, it was something a lot more, he reminded me often that I was his queen and he was my king. It had turned into an addictive desire, a sense of need. 

My father eyed Ayush disapprovingly, his analytic eye inspecting Ayush. 

"What's his job?" My father asked the crucial question, and Ayush smiled.

"I'm a musician, sir." He smiled brightly, and my father's disapproving glare disappeared.

"Nikita, my dear, go to your room for a second." My father's ever-so-loving smile appeared, and I nodded. A blush creeping up my cheeks as I realized that my father just might approve of Ayush's offer to marry me. After a few minutes, she decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"In what world did you think that you were suitable to marry my daughter?" I heard my father demanded, his words harsh as a whip. Tears prickled in my eyes, as I opened the door. The insults worsened, Ayush stared at his feet, his fingers curling into a fist.

"I get it," He stopped my father's ramblings, "I'm not worthy of your daughter."

My father looked satisfied, the look made my stomach churn with disgust. Ayush's eyes glinted with determination. "I'll be back for her when I am worthy."

He spun on his heel, turning away. I pushed open the door, quickly running after him, ready to soothe his shattered pride and ego. Hearing the shuffling of footsteps, he turned to face me.

"Don't forget me," He brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it. "I'll be back for you,"

But the thing is, Ayush never did come back.

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