In the wake of that fateful day, an eerie silence enveloped my world. Each message I sent and every call I made echoed into the abyss, met only with the haunting emptiness of unanswered calls. I waited, breathlessly, for a greeting from the other side, desperately yearning to hear her voice once more. I must have dialed her number a thousand times, but my efforts were in vain. Then, on that one fateful day, the call was answered.
We agreed to meet, and I felt a flicker of hope rekindle within me. Yet, her words shattered the ground beneath my feet as she casually mentioned that her marriage had been arranged. The profanity that escaped my lips betrayed the shock and anguish I felt inside. I pleaded with her, beseeching her not to go through with it, but she remained resolute in her decision. We left that meeting with a solemn agreement to be just friends.
Though I reluctantly accepted the role of a friend, my heart couldn't comprehend how I could relegate the love of my life to such a distant place in my heart. She had been my world, the one I loved deeply, the one I envisioned spending my entire life with. At first, I managed to maintain the façade of friendship, but as time passed, I found myself unable to contain my emotions.
I called her incessantly, bombarded her with messages, until her patience finally wore thin. She blocked me on Facebook and changed her phone number, leaving me utterly lost and adrift in a sea of despair.
I knew where she worked, and in my desperation, I began to stalk her. Every Sunday, I positioned myself along her route home from the office, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I had lost my sense of purpose, my actions fueled by an all-consuming longing.
Then came my second moment of foolishness when I visited her workplace to see her. To my dismay, her boss informed me that she had labeled me as a crazed stalker, someone who had been relentlessly pursuing her. I couldn't believe my ears. Yes, I had been consumed by my love for her, but I was not a bad person. Thankfully, her understanding boss lent me a sympathetic ear, sharing her own stories and advising me to give her some space as she coped with the loss of her mother. It was a wise suggestion, one that I resolved to follow.
Reflecting on the past, I remembered her words about her family selecting a suitor for her and her impending marriage. My impatience had driven me to commit a third misstep. I convinced my mother, and together, we paid a visit to her home one Saturday. When we arrived, I called out, and her brother came down to greet us. He led us to her father, and we engaged in conversation, initially unaware of who we were. As our discussion progressed, her brother's demeanor shifted, revealing his recognition of us. I inquired about her presence, and he informed me that she was at work, even though it was a Saturday. Little did I know, there was more to this story, which I will unveil in another chapter.
That night, a message arrived in my Facebook inbox, bearing the words, "Mero dd li khai vayou ki ma tapai li baki rakdina." I was bewildered, clueless about the events that had transpired. In response, I assured her of my pure intentions, but the heartbreaking reasons behind that message would soon come to light, as the story unfolds.