Bare bodies,hugging skins and wet cold eyes.
A husky voice called out, “Diana!Diana!”. The lady lying at the edge of the bed, clad in a sheer white robe, jerk opened her eyes. Her face lit up to a honey-glow in the shimmering light. She looked up into a mesmerizing and penetrating gaze.
“Do you need more drinks?”, she asked, as her lips curled into an awkardly pretentious smile.
The man frowned his eyebrows. He could barely keep his eyes open but looked straight into hers. He held her by the neck, gently, although the man’s measures of gentleness is far from the woman’s; but yes! Gently. His lips moved but not a sound came out.
Only wet,cold eyes met.
The following morning Diana was found caressing her hair infront of the vast mirror placed at the side of her bed. She looked onto her reflection in a thousand-miles stare, as if all the blood and life was drained out of her.
I’ll be late for dinner tonight,
the words echoed in her mind. Diana changed the calender date to February 14. She got up, made herself a drink lost in some of her distant thoughts.
your room is provided with the finest of the furnitures in Paris and the best view ever
The view was indeed intensely pretty. The february snow was gloomy and glittery at the same time. Diana’s room was amply heated. She rarely lacked anything a woman of her age would have desired. Diana sipped on the blood red liquor painting a lipstick stain at the rim of the glass. Her fingers flipped through the diary pages, just to stop at the one which embraced a withered white rose. Its petals had wrinkled, the flower had lost its vigour. Although it still had a purity in its white colour that narrated some spiritual love. Diana smiled from within. She stood up and went on to the window. She leaned against the window pane relishing her drink. Her mind travelled back to the same day five years back- her wedding day.
Dressed in a dove-white dress, she turned heads at every gaze. The crystal blue shoes complemented the lacy linen just like the stars and the night. Her vermillon red hair curled upon her shoulders like a stream winds its way through the meadows. Her lips were the perfect arch of a cupid’s bow, a plump red rose bud. But her slate blue eyes spoke a different language. They longed for a miraculous endeavor. They searched for answers, answers to a million questions.
Diana walked down the aisle clutching the white rose and the letter that said
From here on we part my love.