It was more than an eerie silence that filled the night, it was awkward.
My eyes grew wide a little and my hair stood on ends. I saw his face tinged with red, his eyes still on me.
"What are you doing?" I whispered softly.
I wanted to look through his eyes, not look at him. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Every minute ticking was as slow as ever.
He closed his eyes as he retreated.
I sighed in relief.
"I was telling you about her, wasn't I?" he said like no one cared and repeated, "She was my fiance."
That wasn't what I wanted to know, I wanted to say, but I had no courage to question further. I was no one special, just someone who happened to 'almost die' and not know anything at all.
He sat on the nearest bench. I followed like a pet dog.
It was dead cold, what December nights are all about.
And although people would always have a reference to feasts and holiday on such days, it was definitely chilling.
"She was?" I asked disbelievingly, sitting beside him and glancing every now and then.
My instinct was telling me otherwise. I knew he was hurt deep inside. After all, she was almost his wife.
He was longing for something for quite some time and no one ever gave him what he wanted.
He was not only alone, he was lonely.
"I am already two years late," he continued. "She married someone else."
I gaped at him, blinking rapidly. I opened my mouth to speak, only to close it again.
He slowly turned his head to me, tilting to the right as though examining my expression. Smiling, he said, "Well, it's fine, isn't it?"
What is fine? Having to know the one you love married someone else because you are damned?
I breathed a heavy sigh, taking in what I just knew, and neared him.
I stood in front of him, my tears threatening to fall in despair not for mine but his loss.
"Don't cry for me," he said, a heartwarming smiled forming about his lips but his eyes, they were lonely of a pair.
I inched closer and put my arms around him.
