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Writings > Short Story > Love

Chapter X: Little Black Thing

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Part FIVE: The Ending of The One Whose Heart Has Been Ripped Off And Cured But Still Hurt
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He calls me using his cellphone, worried. “I’m coming”, I replied with a smile on my face. “Are you lost dear? You want me to take you?”, he sounded helpful, like always. Always trying to be a hero. I can’t stop looking giggly. I can’t stop feeling one too. It is still chill, while I’m walking down. The street is still wet from the rain, and I’ve always loved the smell of after-rain. My long sleek black coat waving the air as I walk pass through the opposite strong wind.

I climb the lobby escalator, then make my way through the elevator and press, 13. 13 is the number I used to go to, but the past made it a pass. It became insignificance. I keep my smile, Ting, I’m here. I pass the crazily long rooms’ hallway, skipping doors, 1305, 1306, 1307, 1308, then here I am, in front of the door. I call him on the cellphone;

“Ok listen…unlock the sliding, turn on the music player, pick up track 12, stand at the side of the bed looking at the door, then wait…”

I hear my queue, I hear my song, I hear Adele’s version of Make You Feel My Love. I hear the piano.

I insert my spare keycard into the door slot, then I come in. There he is, standing with a red rose in his hand, smiling, with eyes looking straight into mine. ‘When the rain is blowing in your face'…. I walk to him slowly, losing my thoughts. He stands still, keeping his cool. I longed to see that eyes, that hair, and the whole of his figure. And if given a chance, I say this to myself, I want to see his anatomy,

‘…when the evening shadows and the stars appear’…

I stand right in front of him. I opened my coat, and throw it on the floor. I’m left with a soft pasteled purple satin knee-length dress, I bought from the bloomingdales. I smile sheepishly.

“You look amazing”, he says, offering me the rose.

“Thank you”, I say, developing a blush on my cheeks.

I take one step closer to him, and then I’m in his arms. ‘…no doubt in my mind where you belong’He holds me tightly, longing for me too. The serenade is right, it’s perfect, and I move my arms on his shoulder and around his neck. And we dance, dance to the song and meaning every word she says. My 12th track on the CD I made. For occasion like this, just for this.

We smell each other’s scents and all I can sense is his own scent. Minus the Ralph Lauren’s, minus the cigarette’s, minus the wine’s. Just him. As we dance away, he moves his left hand inside his back pocket.

He holds a little black box, that is so familiar, a little black box that would make women weak and lost. He slides his body down, and be on his one knee, with his face looking up, at me. Gently he opens it, and there it is, a lavish square cut D bind with glossy white gold. Just like I have imagined. Just like I have dreamed.

“Marry me, and become my wife, for the rest of my life”

There is no perfect answer than Yes. And that’s what I say to him. I can make you happy, make your dreams come true’…

“And where were we?” he says, taking my hands put them on his shoulder.

We keep on dancing, to the same song, throughout the night. Despite the proposal and everything that is perfect tonight, my mind can’t help thinking that before I even come up to the room, he already set the CD player to “Repeat Mode”.

‘…to make you feel my love, to make you feel my love’ ....

Previous short story:
Part FIVE: The Ending of The One Whose Heart Has Been Ripped Off And Cured But Still Hurt
Next short story:

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Nina Chezter Sarif

A person, with nothing much to say, except to write
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