The Three Words

She shuddered in the icy air as a gust of wind ruffled her hair violently. Her eardrums were beating with the incessant hollow echoes of the breeze, hindering her ability to think clearly. She felt a sudden chill run up her spine, which had utterly nothing to do with the external atmosphere.

He’d said it. Finally, those words were out in the open, uncaged, prancing in the chilly air, flowing in the space between his languid mouth and her brooding ear.

Those three words which were so loosely thrown around in today’s age, stolidly in conversations with not-even-acquaintances, held a different meaning for her altogether. For her, it was almost blasphemous to think that these three musketeers were passed over so breezily amidst air-kisses in elite parties; flung out of the blue and thrust upon in telephonic conversations; assigned in Monotype Corsiva font as a footnote to the sweet chime of ‘You’ve got mail’ accompanied by a non-committal ‘See you soon’.

They sat apart, unmoving, hesitating to say anything, perfectly motionless in the swerving air, like some sort of a pre-duel ritualistic mad dance.  

Under the shade of her thick eyelashes, she chanced a glance at his face. His face was perfectly expressionless, revealing neither regret nor any kind of expectation. His brows were relaxed and he seemed to be a little too interested in his cuticles. The stillness clung on, intermitted by the hollow shrieks of gusts of wind, imploring the two to voice their opinions.

She gave up to the nagging grandmother of a wind and broke the silence.

‘You really mean it?’ she said.

He nodded slowly in response.

A tear silently rolled down her cheek. She had waited and waited for so long, that it felt surreal when it had finally happened. Things had seemed dark for some time and she had begun to think of surrendering to her family’s orthodox whims. She felt a sense of elation flood her senses and under her breath, began humming to the tunes of ‘Love Is Here To Stay,’ the tessitura of which seemed to increase with each passing refrain.

Their eyes met, his face partially covered in the white moonlight and their eyes crinkled in unison.

She touched his hand and whispered, ‘See you tomorrow.’

She hurried back home, skipping along the gravel, a crimson color flooding her cheeks, her jaws aching with happiness and burst into the warmth of her humble cottage. Her mother looked at her expectantly and as mothers sense every emotion brewing in their child’s heart, through an untold telepathic connection, she knew something had happened.

‘He said it, Mother! Oh, he said it.’

Her mother smiled and took her in her arms, ‘I’m so so happy for you.’

‘The pay is not much,’ her voice muffled in her mother’s hair, ‘but I get to sing every Friday with the Symphony Orchestra at the Churchill Theater.’ She bubbled and sobbed with tears concocted with the two cacophonous elements of ecstasy and pure disbelief and whimpered, ‘Mummy, This is it. Finally. I am hired.’