Love On The Pages

20

"Sanaa...", like a sing song her name rolled out of his lips, that left her heart in leaps and bounds. This, it wasn't the first time, his tongue has rolled in to form her name, but this time it was salubrious to her ears. His features, in the sprinkle of the beams radiated. May be not, but for her eyes it did. The grinning lips, the ivory and peraly teeths, so magnificent, the hairs haywired and messy, eyes crinkled at the corners. The mess he looked, and needless to say it was the most enchanting mess, she has come across. Bright and beautiful. The wrap of his fingers around her wrist, was enough to radiate the heat off her red cheeks. Being caught of her blabber, was another mark for being painted with red of embarrassment. And she knew by now that he has heard her incessant jibber-jabber, a while back.

She was astounded to how into she was, that she failed to notice any other person around, for she wasn't expecting anyone this early, and he was out of question.

"Who were you talking to?', he asked, coming down from his high of laughter.

"I.....me...I wasn't....nobody...", the fumble in her words and he smiled again. That fumble, and she knew she was making a fool out of herself, first with the soliloquy without the awareness of a audience, then running away making it a point, and then the fumble. She hasn't done anything wrong then why was she running away, the question gripped her and she well knew the answer to that why. It was him, and not only her but anyone wouldn't like to be a mockery in front of someone you like. Obvious that is, and that is what it is being in the deep pit of emotions of that certain feeling, which everyone term as love. You want to be the perfect person, and try it all to do it, only to realize later, love is with imperfections, because perfect is anyways common, and would be loved by everyone around.

"I....you....where are the other parts of speech,", he joked, and her glares directed at him, were enough to make him stop then and there.

"Sorry, sorry, just kidding...up so early aren't you tired", he further asked. The hands still conjoined, and wrapped so magically. Neither does she want him to leave her, nor does she wishes to take her hand back. It, for her, was at the perfect place.

"I was, but I felt like waking up early, and anyways its good if you wake up early, it gives me time to manage a lot of things and also for the better working of the body....and....I can give myself more time on getting ready", she stated, joking at the last part. His head shook at the obviousness of her. The facts and reasoning for her every step, walked with her every step like the shadow. While the last line made him look at her. She was, for him always ready, not the celebrity ready, with the face always camera ready but, the freshness to it was around forever on her face. With the freckles sprinkled on her nose, with the few little acne bumps on her forehead, hair unkempt and untamed always up in a bun. Except for the mehendi ceremony, he hasn't seen her hairs flow, or open. They were always tight spinned in a bun over her head. They weren't the black but mahogany shade, with a few more varying shades of brown, coalesced perfectly. She looked normal, and her efforts to keep it that way made it more likeable and bewitching, only she was unaware of the effect she had on people around.

"But you look beautiful, anyways", refuting her, he made her blush instantly with his locution. She cognized how, she was red-faced, so often around him and with his every sentence.

"Don't make fun of me, now", with her hand still in his, now with her palm in grip and not the wrist she strolled to the bench, and perceiving their hands, he soon followed.

"I am not, I am serious. Look, do I look joking. Waise bhi I don't compliment without it being worthy of it"

"Is it....then I must say you got a good taste.", her reply made him smile and soon they were back on their favourite bench, this time much closer. Though, not close to be conjoined at their shoulders or hands brushing each others, but close anyways. Earlier, it had a place for two cups, now probably just for one. Hands turning cold soon, as the warmth was withdrawn, and them playing and fidgeting with their own fingers.