The grip

She was running through the cluttered, crowded platform as fast as she could. She abruptly halted in front of a young man, he looked at her, opened his lips to say something, but before he could, she gripped her into a tight hug, her arms around his neck. He tried to push her, free himself, but could not. How could she leave him? If she did then he would go away, forever. She held onto her even tighter. She remembered what a petty reason he had given when she confessed her feelings for him, and asked her to forget him. He said that he has a job with a meagre income, a income not even enough to meet his daily needs, but was it a strong reason to sacrifice those long walks that they both have beside the sea and those long talks? Can anyone other than him ever listen to her more patiently? Can anyone other than him love her the way he does? No. She answered herself. Then how can she let him go? She thought.

The train, entered the platform, and stopped beside them, he pushed her harder, but she still held on, never losing the grip. He could feel her breathing heavily on his shoulders and her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands enclosing him. His heart was pounding, But he could not go back to her,  how can he? He thought. She was so beautiful, she would get much better suitor than him, who would keep her happy. Afterall what could a vagabond possibly give her? And when she would know about his past, about the crime that he had done, would she still love him the same? Even though he had never intended to do it but intense torture forced him to thrust the knife into her cruel aunt’s right arm, which had left her injured slightly, but brought him a jail sentence. 

The train was leaving the platform, moving slowly now, he pushed her hard, she fell back, he lifted his suitcase, she held him from the back, “leave me” he said. He pulled himself, she fell on the platform floor, blood oozed out of her head. 


He was sitting on the hospital bed, her head rested on his lap, she was looking at her, holding his hand, and smiling. “I love you” She said. “And thank you for telling me the truth, about your past. By the way when you had told me about the job, I knew that it was not the real reason so I delved deeper into your past and found out everything, thus I know. Are you still thinking of leaving me? Because if you are then you might also have my grave digged up, as your simple attempt brought me to the hospital bed, so if do leave me then I would definitely die. He placed his forefinger on her lips, “shhh…” he said, “I am not leaving you.”


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