Short Story: The Day

She stepped out of the shower and her hands trembled as she scrubbed her perfect black curls, dry. She knew this was it; it was the day when he was going to pop the big question to her. Last evening, he had invited her to a lavish dinner at one of the most expensive rooftop restaurants in the city. 'Friday, 9 PM, Aer. It's a date!' She read the message every ten minutes. It made her smile nervously every time she read it.

She sat in front of the mirror, thinking to herself what would she wear? She had waited for this for seven long years, and it was finally happening. She wanted to look her best, on this day. "Should I wear the yellow dress that he loves the most? Or maybe something that he's never seen me in before?" She wasn’t too fond of the colour, but he loved it, so it didn’t matter. So many thoughts crawling in and out of her mind, it had to be a flawless night.

She walked to her wardrobe and tried eleven outfits before she chose one. It wasn't the same dress, but it was his favourite colour, yellow. She let her hair loose, just the way he liked it, with the curls falling on her back and just some, on her face. She wore diamond earrings, stilettoes and carried a clutch bag. She checked her watch; it was ten minutes to nine. It would take her twenty minutes to cover the distance from her house to the restaurant. He was never late, which was one of the traits about him, she adored the most. He would make certain he reached before time; he hated to make her wait. She took one last look at herself, before stepping out of home and took a deep breath knowing that she won’t be single again. It was 'the day'.

On her journey to Aer, she recalled all the special moments she had cherished with him. How she’d wake him up every morning with a phone call, ‘There’s no better way of starting my day, than hearing your voice’, he always said. How she would innocently act silly when he was low, just to make him smile. How they would cuddle on the couch and watch movies every weekend. Their little fights over Chinese food or Italian, he loved the latter. Meaningless conversations in the middle of the night, unexpected surprises on no special occasions, everything came back to her in a flash. She was beaming, impatiently!

She reached the restaurant in fifteen minutes flat, fortunately, without any traffic blocking her way. The restaurant was swarming, it being a Friday evening. She tried to search for his face between the other faces, her heart beating fast and loud as ever. He was nowhere to be seen; she asked the receptionist if there was a reservation. To her surprise, the receptionist informed her that the reservation in her name had been cancelled an hour ago. Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't want to think too much yet. She took out her phone from her clutch and called him, the phone was unreachable. She tried again, but she couldn’t get through him. She was blank, not knowing what to do, not knowing what was happening.

It felt as if someone had just taken a knife and stabbed her. 'Was there an emergency? He would’ve informed if there was one. Had he changed his mind? Maybe he realized I wasn't the one? Maybe he wasn't in love with me? Should I wait for him here?' She felt wounded, a hundred questions, a million doubts. Her blood speeding through her veins, a lump in her throat, she held back her tears. This couldn't be happening to her. She walked out of the restaurant, her feet trembling, the heels beginning to hurt. She got into a cab, and the next fifteen minutes, were like fifteen years. Tears rolling down her cheeks, heart aching, mind full of questions. 'How could he? Why would he?'

She could hear every piece of her broken heart calling out to him, to know what happened, where did she go wrong? She skipped the elevator and took the stairs, took off her heels while walking up, and with every step thought about how her most anticipated moment never really arrived. She reached the third floor, took out the keys from below the door mat and opened the door.

She hated to be back home, she was still single, now, lonelier than ever. She walked inside, and it was dark. She could smell something funny, something aromatic. She switched on the lights and as she turned, she saw a hundred roses in her living room. He was there, down on his knees, with his head bent low. 'This was the last time that tear came into your eye. Home is where the heart is, and what better place to do this than home itself', he whispered. She was dumbstruck; it was happening, her moment, their moment, had arrived. 'Will you be mine, forever?', he said. The tears had not stopped, but the feeling of hurt had been substituted with the feeling of happiness, love and excitement. 'YES!' She exclaimed. And that was indeed, ‘The Day’, the perfect fairy tale ending, or rather, the beginning of their story. 

 ~C

This story was  featured on Laptoplit under the fiction section.