Not a mistake

Like in any story worth telling, there was this girl. She had a huge load on her heart, weighing her down, killing her one day at a time. But she could not rid herself of it no matter how hard and no matter which way she tried. Till she met this guy.

He lent her his ear, his patience, his words and a little bit of his courage. Phone bills soared on either end. Nights seemed to have no end. Chat windows ran to 300 plus lines. Slowly, leg after arm, she pulled herself out of her ditch.

Her respect for him had no bounds. And his love for her just kept growing. They grew stronger together with each passing day.

Till one particular day. A day that meant a lot to her. A day that he knew meant a lot to her. A day that she spent waiting for him to come. All day, all night by the phone, and by the window.

He never came.

Her heart broke. And after all those months, so did the tears.

He knew he screwed up. And that he screwed up bad. He called, apologised, explained and tried every thing that he could think of. But what he did that day broke something he never expected to end up breaking. Their bond.

Phone calls went unanswered. The chat windows dried up to monosyllables. And the nights got longer. But he had no reprieve.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. He begged and he grovelled. He did to no avail. He tried to make things happen. Nothing happened. He spent every night praying for one opportunity to go back to that day and undo the one wrong that he’d done to her. Neither God, nor she was willing to grant him that.

There was realisation, remorse and there was regret. But there was no forgiveness.

As the months passed, a few phone calls resumed. She called when she needed help. He leaped forward to help, hungry for every brownie point he could bag. And he called her when he was troubled beyond his means. She listened.

He conspired and created situations to be with her. She obliged. She came. She had her assortment of men for the moments. And he waited on the sidelines for a crumb to fall his way. Too bad, she was too clean.

Everything that he had given turned to dust because of one wrong. And he could never stop trying to right that wrong. But water under a bridge, is water under a bridge.

So one night, feeling lost, feeling alone and like a loser, he sat and he thought.

“Where was I wrong? Making the mistake? Trying to unmake the mistake? Or falling in love with the wrong person?”

{perspectives, opinions, criticism and cuss words solicited}