લવિના દીદી આમ તો રોજ રોજ સરસ વાર્તા જ મોકલતા હોય છે પણ આ વાર્તા ખની જ સારી લાગી.
I waited for him to reach and fetch me. It’s been fifteen minutes. He told me e’d reach in five minutes. I was rather frustrated. Then he finally arrived.
He offered me the motorcycle helmet. Why were you so late, I asked.
He was nonchalant. Not even a little hint of guilt. Oh..was watching tv, he said. Watching tv? Why don’t you bathe, eat, nap then come down here, I raised my voice.
I’m sorry, he said in a voice I never heard before. No explanation. Nothing.
Just a simple sorry. But it was the first time I’d heard him say sorry. Yes. Oh well. So I took the helmet. And many times after that, he apologized for being late. Countless times. He never gave the explanation. And one day I couldn’t take it anymore.
Why don’t you ever explain why you’re sorry, I asked, my temper boiling up. I’m sorry, he said. That was the 98th time he said sorry to me. Why do you have to say sorry? Can’t you just explain to me, I practically screamed at me. I’m sorry, he said. That was the 99th time he said sorry to me. Let’s break up, I said. I’ve had enough of your non-existent explanations.
And I left. I lost all contact with him. I never looked him up. Neither did he look me up. And a month later, I knew I was still in love with him.
I couldn’t contain my feelings for him inside anymore. So I went to look for him. I went to his school, and they said he had stopped schooling for a month already. I called his phone, and no one picked up. I called his friend.
He’s in hospital now. He has congenital heart disease. Didn’t you know, asked his friend. No, I said. Where is he now? XX hospital, he replied and put down the phone. I practically ran to the hospital. He was there, face as white as could be.
I knelt down, crying, by his bedside. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, I cried. He opened his eyes tiredly, and smiled. I’m sorry, he said. Don’t say sorry, just don’t die. Please…I haven’t forgiven you yet, I cried out, my tears
and sobs choking me.
And he closed his eyes forever. I collapsed on his bed. Why? Why did you have to leave me so early? His hands were tightly grasped to a bundle of papers. On the first one, he wrote: I didn’t mean to be late. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you that I felt my chest hurt terribly when I stepped out
of the house. But I still made an effort to come. Forgive me, won’t you?
On the second, he wrote: …… On the third, he wrote: ……
I read through all of them, my tears never stopping. On the hundredth, there was a photograph attached. He was smiling as radiantly as he could, for me.
His face was white, but I could see the genuine smile. He wrote: I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to leave before you. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I left because god didn’t give me a chance to put a ring on your finger and say I love you. You were the first girl I said sorry to, and the only one whom I wanted to spend my life with. Please, don’t cry. I don’t want to see you cry.