I awoke to a hand gently shaking my shoulder. The sun was setting, preparing to rest for the night as the moon was getting ready to make her appearance. But the touch was as familiar as knowing how to speak.
I rubbed my eyes with one hand as I put the other in his, feeling myself being lifted from the ground. "What took you so long?"
He pulled out something from behind his back, and my lips parted in surprise. It was a poochenda of red rojakal, my favorite. "I am sorry, but I had to get these." He handed them to me, but not before putting one in my hair, safely tucking it in behind my right ear.
My brows knitted, but whether it was in surprise or confusion, I couldn't tell. I held the poochenda in my hands, breathing in their fresh scent. Had he personally picked these? "They're beautiful, but were they really necessary?"
"Maybe, maybe not." He shrugged a shoulder. "Think of them as the first memory of our new life together." I lay my head on his shoulder as he held my hand in his. "Where will we go, though?"
"A place far from here. I am certain that the Rani will send for people to search my village. That is no longer a sanctuary for us. No, we will stay elsewhere. I will work as a farmer, carpenter, anything. And once we have enough money, I will buy us our own place." When I turned my head, I found Karthik looking right at me.
I tugged at my wrists, prying off the jewelry I still wore. "This is all I have. They should be enough to support us for a while," I tried to pass them to him, but he shook his head. "They are yours."
I held up the poochenda in front of us. My fingers picked at a Roja, but before I could prick myself, Karthik stopped me, taking the flower away from my grasp. "What are you doing? You could hurt yourself."
"A fool, he was,
Despite knowing that the Roja had thorns, he still stuck around the garden,
Why does he insist? The Roja wondered,
And it was then that the Roja realized, that it wasn't the Roja that was precious, but the fool,
For one as patient as he was was hard to find,
And for that the Roja kept her scent hanging for years to come."
That was the first, but not the last poem I shared with him.
YOU ARE READING
The Poet, The Princess, and The Promise: A Short Story
ContoWhen two people who lead lives no different than the sun and moon love each other, how strong will their bond prove? And to what lengths would they go to protect it? ★ This short story is a gift for one of my dear friends - a dreamer, and, like me...
