Diya was in merriment, swaying at the splash of the energetic music to suddenly clutch the advent of a sophisticated man at the bar of the pulsating alfresco restaurant proximate to a well-lit part of a picturesque beach, observing her blithe enthusiasm and lost in the silent vibe between them – detecting her gaze he wobbled.
He steadily advanced towards her – with every single pace he shortened the space between them and a lovely delicate feeling ignited within them. Standing unapologetically close he greeted her, “Hi, I am Abram, I feel terribly mesmerized by you”. Startled, she briskly pulled herself back from the proximity of his warmth and the bluntness of his personality – “It’s your good luck”, she snapped to shield an inexplicable emotion – a feeling of familiarity with an unknown stranger.
He deliberately sat in a corner but adjacent to her table at the restaurant and obnoxiously ogled her, then he outrageously hurried towards her and with a radiant smile he said, “Would you join me for a walk on the beach?”
They were silently walking besides each other – after few hushed seconds he tenderly held her hand, their naked feet’s were submerged in ankle length water as they strolled on the beach under the moon’s subtle light. Conversing and chuckling, the heavenly sense of that magnificent night concealed with a rich kiss.
Their beautiful love story blossomed after many absorbing love notes, rousing conversations and romantic dates between busy work schedules. One day, he unexpectedly arrived home and gracefully kneeled in front of her and sang, “Will you marry me? Say yes! Say yes!” He sang in the most atrocious tone, laughing hysterically with tears of joy she heard the exquisite essence of his artless pitch.
The wedding night was – she was robed in a translucent silvery nightgown, left open her long tresses to purely dance in the mild stream of the night breeze. She treaded leisurely towards the loggia of a bungalow located remote from the city confines; he was patiently waiting for her besides the bed which was enclosed with aromatic candles in lanterns to glow the bed-sheet adorned with rose petals. He was clad in a misty white kurta-pyjama; his tall well-built personality overpowered the romantic background – his curly locks lightly embracing the mild lash of the breeze, his tanned body shimmering. On spotting her at the entrance of the loggia, he sedately started advancing towards her.
Drawing her close he murmured with his warm breaths caressing her ear lobe, “Princess, may I clasp you in my arms?” “Don’t you dare”, she replied provokingly and trembled in excitement as he hastened himself extremely near; he lusciously smooched her and tighten her in his arms, after that each night was tailored made for them to consume their passion for each other.
(Affirmation: Some fairy tales do not have endings)