• _aradhya 38w

    Titles are welcome.
    Felt like writing something that would hopefully bring a smile on your face for at least a second. Stay strong, y'all.

    @writersnetwork @mirakee


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    The End in The Beginning

    I collapse on my bed while he is making his coffee and my tea. He has always been a tea person and I, a coffee person. He has been a morning bird, and I have always been a night owl. His alarms rings half an hour after I sleep.

    I always wake up for 2 minutes when his alarm rings to give him his first kiss of the day and help him start it. He always kisses me, giving me the last kiss of the day and helping me sleep peacefully.

    He wakes up with a smile, I sleep with a smile.

    When I wake up, he's gone. Breakfast is in the fridge, waiting peacefully. He always knows how to start my day. Sometimes it is pancakes, sometimes scrambled eggs. Sometime they are those quick 2 minute recipes we see on YouTube and Instagram.

    Then the afternoon comes. I eat my meal looking at some video, but most of the times attending a zoom call with my colleagues listening to our boss giving us a task, more like giving us a hard time. But him and all of us colleagues, we are tired, exhausted. We need sleep, more sleep. We need calmness serenity.
    Above all, we need to survive. So he speaks, we listen. We do the work, he examines it. We see someone getting fired, someone getting hired, and then receive our salaries at the end of the day and the boss receives his.

    The afternoon for the guy who prepared breakfast for me is slightly different. He sits in a room wearing his PPE Kit eating his lunch. Some days, well on most days, he eats after he encounters death or while someone is dying. No oxygen supply is slowly starting to drain him emotionally.

    Just yesterday he saw a 12 year old lose his mother due to covid and lack of oxygen. It reminded him of his mother, and how she taught him some good lessons before leaving him.
    He didn't eat yesterday. Couldn't.
    When he told me this over a voice recording, I wanted to be with him, because sometimes being with someone is slightly more important that being there for someone.

    I texted him, didn't call or send a voice note because I didn't want him to hear my breaking voice, "Just think of me hugging you."

    "I already am," he replied. "Stop crying now will you? How do you expect me to stop if you don't?" another text followed. I smiled, sent him a pic with a voice note saying I love you. I know he smiled too.

    I called my mum, after that. We talked, I told her I love her without actually saying it, and kept the call.

    He came home early yesterday. Took a bath, then hugged me. This time for a little longer. But hugs are hugs. Whether they be long or short.

    I prepared the evening snack for him, and the dinner. I collapse on the bed, while he brings me my coffee and his tea, I already brought the snacks beside us. We talk. We laugh. We stare. We sit in silence, just letting the moment sink in. We talk more, share stories, cuddle, hold each other. All the things that couples do.

    This. The evening right here, is when I feel safe, calm, happy. A sense of serenity. We confide in each other every evening, exchange our future in a time when dreaming of a future seems like a hopeless thing to do.

    We eat. He sleeps. I stay awake. And the same thing over again.

    And I never get tired. Because I'm always ready to go through the zoom meetings, the alone meals, and the cold breakfast everyday, if the end result of it is the kind of evening we have every day and shielding myself in his arms.

    I am ready to cook dinner for him. After all, I always wake up to perfect breakfasts.

    I am ready to do all of those things, if the result of it is me ending the day with a smile, and him starting his day with a smile.