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Schooling—done. Engineering—done. Getting a good job—done. Going abroad—done. Bank balance—in progress. What’s the next milestone?’
I miss her in my days. I miss her in my nights. I miss her every moment of my life.
What would I tell her? That I spent the best hour of my life in the lap of a girl who is not you? That I may have married you but I’m still in love with a girl who doesn’t exist? That whatever you do, every time I compare you with her, even when you kiss me? Won’t I be screwing up so many lives—the girl’s, her family’s, my family’s. And mine? But mine is already screwed up.
