The days when no technology existed, love was written on letters, eyes were met, hands were frequently intertwined and romance was real.
Going back to 1988 when distance separated two fated people letters and emails coexisted binding the lovers tog...
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"Why do you have this scarf with you?"
Panic struck you. Words were at loss. He was there standing in the corner of your room with the scarf he gifted the girl he emailed, wondering why was it with you. It was all going to get down. Feigning no knowledge of his question was the only option that seemed right in this situation.
"Why? What's up?" You nervously chuckle, walking towards him and averting his attention elsewhere. Your eyes fall on his untied bandage, loose and not carefully tied up.
"This scarf—" You cut his deep tone from speaking further. "The bandage." Pressing your lips in thin line, you smoothly fold the bandage around his hand slowly feeling his intense gaze almost making a hole in your head.
His legs shift to another, uneasiness sweeping through his body language. You didn't want to lie to him but wasn't it too late to tell him the truth? Tell him that he's falling for the wrong girl when you're the only person he should bestow his love upon.
"You're not answering my question." His voice captures your ears but you want to become deaf to all his questions and go back to simply see him adore you. Were you going to lose that privilege too, after he catches you spewing lies? Big lies at best.
You twist your lips, your heart picking a speed. "What do you mean?" You act innocent, "What's up with this scarf?" You don't meet those brown confused eyes yet. No, you wouldn't take the risk. Not when you came this far with your lies.
White lies.
He retreats his bandaged hands from your warmth, holding the other end of the scarf firmly as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "This..." his eyes fluttering lower on the scarf, his breath slow "... scarf, I gifted to Jennie." His dark brown doe shaped beautiful eyes catch your gaze, capturing you, "Why is it with you?" His voice is still a few octaves lower. Confused. Hurting you. Those eyes question you, hoping for a positive response.
"Oh," You sound surprised, your brows together trying their best to act natural. "I didn't know you gifted her." Your voice cracked midway and you internally groan, outside giving him the fakest tight smile.
His frown just deepens, his expression turning more like 'What the hell are you saying'
You look away and he tilts his head, "You have this, why?" He asks and you tight your jaw, failing at making sense at all. "Don't tell me this is yours because it's not." He takes a step closer, lifting the scarf for you to see, "You see these little daisies?" He asks and your eyes follow his lead.
