Amsterdam To Ambala. ✈ ✔

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXI - Where do broken hearts go?

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The decor team had started working on the decorations. The house was getting happy again. Guests had started arriving to attend the wedding. Aman in his regular t-shirt was roaming around the house when the maid handed him the ironed kurta that he was supposed to wear for the lunch. He remembered the last time when Tisha made him wear it for the first time. He had no intention of wearing it back then but he wore it just because she had insisted. He took it from the lady and smiled looking at it, relishing the old times. He went to his room and changed into it. He heard some giggles from the room beside his and went to check the proceedings. There she sat, at her beautiful best, on the carpeted floor surrounded by her cousins and friends with her hands forward. They were applying Henna and she was just sitting there, staring at the empty space. Her chocolate brown open hair flying because of the fan. She looked at Aman. Surprisingly, they were colour coordinated. He was wearing a white kurta salwar and she was dressed in an elegant white anarkali suit. The other group of ladies were busy in beating the drum and singing the songs of celebration but did that even matter? What was there to celebrate even? Tisha continued staring at Aman as if this was the last time she was getting to see him and maybe it was. She wanted to remember him forever, by heart. He gave her a bright smile in return. Her heart was sinking. Her throat was dry. Her lips wobbled. Her corneas got wet. She couldn't do it. She could never be as great as Aman. A stray lock of her hair flew and teased her. She struggled to push it away with her free arm when she found him kneeling down in front of her, not looking less than any prince charming. He stared at her for a while before tucking the hair back in its place. He again smiled at her and caressed her cheek with his fingers.

"Aman ji. Aap bhi koi bhangra shangra daalo." [Show some moves.] One of the lady spoke.

"Why not?" He winked and got up. He began dancing with a constant smile plastered on his face, his eyes staring at the love of his life all the while who was going to be someone else's in a few days. These were the final few moments in which he was seeing her. After these days, she will be married and he would be back to his old, monotonous life in Amsterdam. He was remembering every inch of her by heart. He would never get her to himself again. God knows how hard he had to try to control himself from not embracing her right at that moment. He had imagined her looking beautiful as a bride but not someone else's. She was looking beyond beautiful at that time and all he wanted to do was take her away where no one could come between them to separate them. A small tear drop rolled down her cheeks as she couldn't control herself anymore. She excused herself from the girl who was applying Henna. Muskan understood the need of space and sat there only. Aman waited for her to come back. Rahul had arrived there too. After about 5 minutes, she came back and settled at her place when the song played on the stereo system.

Tum ho gham ko chupaye.
Main hoon sar ko jhukaye.
Tum bhi chup ho, main bhi chup hoon
Kon kisay samjhaye?
Ab dooriyan itni hain to milna yahan
Kal ho na ho.

[You are hiding your pain. My head is bowed low. You are silent and so am I. Who would make us understand? Now there are a lot of distances between us. God knows, if we ever meet again.]

Aman kneeled down in front of her and applied the yellow paste on her cheeks gently. He bent down and placed his lips on her forehead as she closed her eyes and let the tears fall down freely. He kissed her temple and wiped away her tears, shaking his head indicating her not to cry. She immediately hugged him tightly, not caring for the world.