As I lay in a pool of blood...
a chuckle slips out.
Not fear. Not regret.
Just acceptance.
Of love
Of life
Of denial
Of struggle
As my eyes grow heavy.
And my heartbeat slows, there he is.
Him.
For the last time.
And in my last seven minutes,
I see *our* last seven dates.
My version of
**Happily Ever After.**
It was a chapter in my long life,
It was not the ending,
It was neither the begining,
But in between
Between life
Between love
Between two souls
Between the world.
and , I didn't know what was beyond this.
Well…
I guess it’s time to find out.
**The First Minute. The Seventh Date.**
I didn’t know it would be the last.
I was cramping, my period on the way, but I still wanted to see him.
We went out, laughed, ate well.
But deep down, I knew.
Every moment was the last.
He was already pulling away, distancing himself.
I clung harder, made more memories.
His way of grieving
was making fewer memories.
Mine,
was holding on
to every damn second.
Somewhere i looking back the Last time ,
and finding him waiting for me to look back
same as the first time
I found home and lost home too.
I drowned where the water was less,
surrounded by waves crashing like a mess.
His parents said no.
Not to *me*,
but to the life we could’ve built.
**The Second Minute. The Sixth Date.**
The day before I returned home.
A quiet date he worked in between, but I didn’t mind.
The stars, the candles, the food, the conversation, the ice cream…
All perfect.
I knew since our second date that *any* moment could be the last.
So I leaned in tighter during rides.
Held on longer during hugs.
Looked back one extra time every time I left.
He brought me flowers the day I left, three red roses.
The first he ever gave me.
The last he ever would.
**The Third Minute. The Fifth Date.**
Breakfast at the club.
He's navigating traffic, ranting about roads, and I… I lean in closer.
Trying to breathe him in.
I knew time was running out.
I visited his hometown, walked where he walked, saw what he saw.
Trying to belong.
Trying to be accepted—not just by him, but by the world that shaped him.
Searching for home in an unfamiliar city.
**The Fourth Minute. The Fourth Date.**
Shivratri.
I had asked Shiv ji for him.
We woke up early, groggy and lazy, but went to the temple.
“You’re my god,” he says, watching me pray to mine.
When the sun set, he rushed to get me coconut water, to feed me.
Love,
sometimes,
looks like care.
That day,
I worshipped him back
**The Fifth Minute. The Third Date.**
I see him again after a month I'd been away on my birthday trip.
The kiss feels like thirst meeting water.
Every touch burns. Forbidden fruit
Sweet, deadly, irresistible.
We fall asleep wrapped around each other.
That night,
we didn’t sleep.
We *rested*
in each other’s arms,
and in denial.
Denial of never being able to build a home together,
but in that moment, we knew we felt at home.
**The Sixth Minute. The Second Date.**
I see us in his balcony
Talking about life. Talking about us.
Talking about our past in hopes of building a future
Wrapped in each other’s embrace, under the stars.
And I feel at home.
But I ask him something hard:
“I only want this if your parents are okay with you marrying someone from another state.”
Me, an Odia. Him, a Marathi.
His silence says enough.
Still, I stay.
**The Last Minute. The Seventh One. The First Date.**
I see us meeting for the first time,
The giddy-ness of meeting him,
swiping on him on a random tuesday afternoon.
I felt alive that day, I felt Happy.
As if, God had blessed me.
Him as always on time and me 20-mins late
I see a tall guy, green sweat-shirt waiting for me,
I walk towards him
Already feeling at home.
He gives me a pair of earrings. I give him a Hot Wheels car.
Somewhere in that mismatch,
Somewhere i looking back the first time ,
and finding him waiting for me to look back
and waving a bye.
I found home.
Like my raft reaching its shore,
I could hear waves crashing at the shore.
The shallow water was the place where i drowned
cause who knew,
finding home meant giving away my life.
but i was okay.
cause if not him,
his memories where there.
His touch, his Manna
was there.
I remember my daughter crying over a guy a few years earlier,
I told her about Jeet.
She asked if he was the reason i never married.
I said, Love was the reason I never married.
I had sen him again in my dream that day,
Us in the balcony sipping coffee, legs tangled.
watching sunsets, too afraid to look into eachother's eyes.
I tell her about how proud he would have been of her,
and he deserved so much better.
and if it is meant to be love will find her,
and in the most unexpected way.
I finally start to drift away
surrounded by darkness,
the floor was cold,
but i could feel the warmth seeping in,
a light so bright, cutting through the darkness
and the sound of the waves fading out
i felt happy, finally the wait was over.
The longing was over.
I didn't know if he would choice me on the other side,
will there pain or a life long happiness,
but then
A faint voice.
“Ma…”
*Jeet.*
Yes. I had adopted a son.
Jeet.
raised him,
named him after the one thing I lost,
but also
the one thing I won.
He’s grown now.
He’ll be okay….
My final whisper escapes me:
“I love you, Jeet.
Take care.”
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