(Story begins here.)
Six months. It was merely six months after his graduation that he moved out to Mountain View to work at one of the many technology companies in the region when he received the email. His jaw hit the ground when he saw its contents.
``Dear Mike, I'm sorry. I know you made lots of big plans with me about our future, about how we will live together after I've graduated and start our lives together as a couple. I didn't want to remind you of this earlier because you were so happy then, what with your graduation and the getting of that dream job of yours, but I will remind you now: I am not the sort who would settle down. I still love you very much, but I cannot see myself living the life of a wedded wife; I just can't. It probably doesn't help that while you were gone, I got lonely, and went back to some of the parties that the fraternities were hosting, and kissed a guy there. No, we didn't sleep together, but I thought I should let you know. I'm sorry, but you clearly want me as a wife, but I cannot live that way.
``Let's break up now before you get even more hurt. Once more, I'm sorry it turned out that way.
``Love, Irene.''
It was supposed to be a love story. That was what Mike kept trying to remind himself each time he was alone in his apartment and looking at the few photographs that he had of him and Irene. A love story. But it did not turn out that way after all.
Mike took one look at the remaining whiskey in his glass and finished it all in one gulp before lying on his hands on the table and sobbed silently to himself.
Showing posts with label 'supposed-love-story'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 'supposed-love-story'. Show all posts
Sunday, 17 August 2014
Saturday, 16 August 2014
It Was Supposed To Be A Love Story: Part 2
(Story begins here.)
Mike sat there in his apartment, staring at that photograph of all the guests at the housewarming party, the very first time that he met Irene, his eyes all bloodshot from his insomnia. He took the bottle of whiskey and poured out another glass and took a large gulp from it, the alcoholic fire burning its way down his gullet before settling into a warm flame that radiated from within his empty stomach. Three days. It had been three days since Irene had walked out of his life. It was supposed to be a love story, he kept telling himself, and he stared at the photograph in his hand one last time before discarding it and picking up the next one in the sequence.
It was a picture of his graduation. They had gone out for nearly three years by then. Mike was a graduating senior, while she was a rising senior, both still in the same degree. Irene's mother died during that period from cancer, but Mike was there beside her, which helped to ameliorate the pain. There was a change in the course requirements for the degree during Irene's junior year, but they weathered through it all. She cut back on her partying when the two of them started getting all serious, while he never really left far from his shell of comfort---all he did was to invite her to join him in his shell. The year of his graduation, they started to talk about plans. Big plans. Plans regarding what was to happen during the year that he was working and she was still finishing up her degree. Plans regarding what happened after that. Serious plans, important plans. Plans that Mike thought they had agreed on.
Mike stared hard at the graduation picture, it portrayed a certain naïveté towards the future, smiles that seemed to come from the deep happiness from within, eyes that twinkle with nothing short of love and happiness. Eyes that now seem to him to be showing nothing short of deceit and duplicity. Disgusted, he tossed the photograph aside and took another large gulp from his whiskey.
(Story continues here.)
Mike sat there in his apartment, staring at that photograph of all the guests at the housewarming party, the very first time that he met Irene, his eyes all bloodshot from his insomnia. He took the bottle of whiskey and poured out another glass and took a large gulp from it, the alcoholic fire burning its way down his gullet before settling into a warm flame that radiated from within his empty stomach. Three days. It had been three days since Irene had walked out of his life. It was supposed to be a love story, he kept telling himself, and he stared at the photograph in his hand one last time before discarding it and picking up the next one in the sequence.
It was a picture of his graduation. They had gone out for nearly three years by then. Mike was a graduating senior, while she was a rising senior, both still in the same degree. Irene's mother died during that period from cancer, but Mike was there beside her, which helped to ameliorate the pain. There was a change in the course requirements for the degree during Irene's junior year, but they weathered through it all. She cut back on her partying when the two of them started getting all serious, while he never really left far from his shell of comfort---all he did was to invite her to join him in his shell. The year of his graduation, they started to talk about plans. Big plans. Plans regarding what was to happen during the year that he was working and she was still finishing up her degree. Plans regarding what happened after that. Serious plans, important plans. Plans that Mike thought they had agreed on.
Mike stared hard at the graduation picture, it portrayed a certain naïveté towards the future, smiles that seemed to come from the deep happiness from within, eyes that twinkle with nothing short of love and happiness. Eyes that now seem to him to be showing nothing short of deceit and duplicity. Disgusted, he tossed the photograph aside and took another large gulp from his whiskey.
(Story continues here.)
Friday, 15 August 2014
It Was Supposed To Be A Love Story: Part 1
It was supposed to be a love story. That was what Mike kept trying to remind himself each time he was alone in his apartment and looking at the few photographs that he had of him and Irene. A love story. They met in college while both were pursuing degrees in computer science, he a sophomore, she a freshman. Some might even claim it to be a match made in heaven, for their quirks matched each other nearly perfectly. Of the two he was the more quiet, an introvert some might even say, while she was the one who was more out-going, always going out to parties, concerts, meeting new people, making new friends. He did not like parties at all, preferring a more scholarly existence while during college. They had met at a mutual friend's housewarming, a coincidence more than anything else. It being a housewarming, he found it sufficient of an excuse to leave the house to attend it even though the social aspect scared him, while she was still trying to learn her way around campus during that first semester and was naturally drawn to a party where there was at least one person she knew.
They met, and they started talking almost immediately, as though some unknown attractive force had taken over them and brought them close together. As the party heated up, the two of them found themselves moving away to quieter corners of the house and continued their chat, up to and until the party was over. Their mutual friend had taken a glimpse of where the two of them were when the party was concluded, but decided against asking them to leave, seeing that Mike was at least enjoying himself with the company of another, something that was a rare sight. Years later, when Mike asked her why she did not throw the both of them out of the house at the end of the party, she would simply reply that it was not the right thing to do then.
They chat through the night, sitting in the foyer under the lights. It was fall, and the weather was cool enough to lull the summer bugs into a slumber, leaving them to hover about farther away from the dangling lights. It was only when they saw the glint of the sun's rays that they realised how long they had been talking with each other. Mike did not know what possessed him that day, but he mustered the courage to ask her out for coffee some time. Irene, with her usual friendly self, readily agreed, though she blushed a little, as though she had already known what was coming up even before Mike knew where it was all heading.
(Story continues here.)
They met, and they started talking almost immediately, as though some unknown attractive force had taken over them and brought them close together. As the party heated up, the two of them found themselves moving away to quieter corners of the house and continued their chat, up to and until the party was over. Their mutual friend had taken a glimpse of where the two of them were when the party was concluded, but decided against asking them to leave, seeing that Mike was at least enjoying himself with the company of another, something that was a rare sight. Years later, when Mike asked her why she did not throw the both of them out of the house at the end of the party, she would simply reply that it was not the right thing to do then.
They chat through the night, sitting in the foyer under the lights. It was fall, and the weather was cool enough to lull the summer bugs into a slumber, leaving them to hover about farther away from the dangling lights. It was only when they saw the glint of the sun's rays that they realised how long they had been talking with each other. Mike did not know what possessed him that day, but he mustered the courage to ask her out for coffee some time. Irene, with her usual friendly self, readily agreed, though she blushed a little, as though she had already known what was coming up even before Mike knew where it was all heading.
(Story continues here.)
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