in #valentine3 years ago

(This is indeed a true work offiction. Any resemblance to people living anywhere must be considered purely a naive coincidence)

Sitting on the chair in my room, looking at the garden outside through the Window: I am smiling. I vividly remember that day. You might ask me which day it was and why. It was the day that had made me very happy. It was the day that brought glee in my life , after a very long time. It was the day I wasn‘t alone. It was the 14'h of February: Valentine‘s Day. This is for her, my valentine.


It was for a very long time that I had loved her. But I was just too scared to reveal it. All my friends encouraged me to confess my love to her. All I could tell was “I’m confused. Don’t you think it is too early?” At least for me, it was not that too early. I was only scared if she’d reject me. I had carved her name in my heart and my heart always begged for her, my heart always beat for her. I loved her very much. I only didn’t know how she felt about me. Did she love me? Did she care for me, just the way I did about her? I didn’t know. I loved her, and I really cared about her. Once she had broken her hand after falling into the drain. I was tempted to sneak into the clinic to see if she was making some progress.

It sounds strange but I had never loved anyone as dearly as I loved her. I always looked for her in the classes, on the grounds, at the corridors, on the road leading us to our houses just everywhere. Dining hall was much fun; I stared at her through the tables and as soon as she looked at me, which I always took as unintended, I looked away. Probably she never knew that I looked at her. Perhaps she did. Every dream made me happy for she was in them. But I loved the dreams although they ended as the innocent dawn approached.


I became so obsessed that whenever I opened a book her face substituted the fonts. I spoiled my grades: 2Cs and 3Ds. “You’ll spoil your studies,” my mother had said a million times.”Trust me mother, I’ll never let you down,” I had replied. I realized my mistake. Few weeks later, the school organized an art competition. When I anonymously sent her my portrayal of her in the sketch, it was rumored that she had let out a gasp and quickly tore it off. I was dumbfounded. I was heartbroken. I didn’t have my supper that day and went to the bed early. Insomnia ruled my body. Valentine’s Day; the day came. I woke up early that day for I had to confess my love to her. I had to tell her somehow. I couldn’t. What if she tore my heart the same way she tore away the gifted sketch? My friends called me a coward. But, I wasn’t. I was sad. I was angry at myself.

I waited to confess my love in the class. The class started to fill up with other students. I was anxious. ‘Why wouldn’t she come?’ I waited until finally a voice came from the door. “May I come in Sir?” the voice echoed. A sweet voice belonging to the queen of my dreams. It was her. She had come. I was relieved but it didn’t last long as the fear of being rejected haunted me down. After the class, I sat down on the stairs that led up to the small pagoda from the gate. It was something I always did whenever I felt sad and confused.

“Hey!” I opened my eyes. I had fallen asleep on the stairs. “Hey, wake up, you silly boy!” someone giggled. That giggles. That voice. It was hers. She had come to me. I was stunned. “I am sorry for what happened that day, at the Art Workshop,” she said and sat beside me.
“I love you.” It was a whisper when I said those words; as someone had once said that all true things come out in whispers.

“I love you more,” she whispered back. I hugged her. Was it a dream? I pinched my wrist. Nothing happened. I didn’t wake up. No words can describe how happy I was. I had got her; my valentine, my love. And I was ready never to let her walk away. Today, I have very good sets of grades. I even told my mother about the girl I loved after my results.


At first, she suspected me but smile returned back in her face. Must have been my grades. And the happiest person is undoubtedly me, for I have the love of the girl I love. And she is very happy too. What could make a man (or a boy) more happier?

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Huh magazine ?? I didn't get you

The post is very good. It should be published in a world wide magazine.

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