Maire Naam tu | Prem & Kaya

should I call him-?

Kaya

Dear diary,

Growing up I always read romance novels. I preferred reading. Instead of going in the dating scene.

Back in Delhi, I dated few guys in high school. They were ..well let's not talk about them-
Makes me want to cringe Hard!

They were shit.
No offense.

My dad and mom were the people who raised my standards high. How madly in love two people can be who just devote their lives for each other. . . Sigh.

I never was hopeless in love or was dieing to have someone after their death.
Because I believed that no one can have what they had. That amount of love would never come to me or anyone.

Then Jiju married Di,
I was proved wrong.
I saw my parents in them . .
Funny how they felt bad romancing each other infront of me as they thought that would make me feel like a loner!
Well. That was true.
Why would I move out then?

Well..
3 weeks ago,

when Prem held my hand,
his long fingers engulfing mine, . . .
I felt I am loosing the ability to breathe that moment.

Was I ever held or touched like that before? Yes.
Was it the same?
Absolutely not.

It was just a simple hold.
That's what one would say.

But he hold me like..

Like he wants to say something . . ,
wants to own me . ,
take me.

Something even more than these.
Something that is making me miss his touch so much.
Something that I wish to experience everyday.

The dark orbs on mine were telling me so many stuff that might scare me, if I could read what they were actually saying.

According to articles, "'Prem Bansal' is a rude, workaholic man who has fired tons of people if they didn't matched his working speed. Took him really less time to build up that big of a company, because of his well known parents. His father and brother prefer to stay hidden and never came to limelight. He does interviews rarely. And is often rude to paparazzis."

It showed a video of Prem cancelling a journalist's license cuz he asked something absurd about his sister.

Deserved.
Periodth.

It made sense how in college when he came, people's phone flash made him disturbed.
I read articles after articles.

I felt like a small person..
who has nothing to do with him. He talks about millions and serious damn work in his company.

What I'll talk? How I finish white Paints quicker than the other Paints and it's so frustrating? Or how frustrating is it when acrylics dry up quickly and I no more can blend them?

Disappointment crawled in me.
The second I realised how different-

we are.

So . . Acquaintances.
That's all we can be.

I close my diary, turned off the lamp.
And went to my bed.