As she saw the sun setting, she hoped for the breeze to flow back.

It had already been more than a year that beauty in its most pristine form had touched her soul without permission whatsoever. Back then, she had not realized that such a chance encounter would lift the mist of sadness off her spirit and lead her to realize the meaning of love and happiness in its truest sense. It was that form of deadly sadness which is so toxic that it makes the mind and heart numb, and does not even let the victim realize its presence. Such is its adamant nature, made so through the bruises received over a period of time, that it gets unsettled only through a magical angelic touch which carries transformative powers.

Ankita was an architect by profession. Years of hardship had taught her the true meaning of life, though she would always question the absolutism of truth. A rebel since childhood, she had still learnt to adapt to the vicissitudes of life and hide the pain behind an all inspiring smile. Lines had always fascinated her. She would imagine them running crisscross across the ceiling of her bedroom while the rest slept and she built the castles of her dreams.

Castles they were. Broke. And she learnt to live the reality, only managing to smile at its cruelty as she was made to harshly accept the fact that the lines of destiny were far more powerful than the lines which fascinated her as a child.

Sitting at the edge of the window which faced the garden, she looked at her life in retrospection. She had learnt, believed and maintained all her life that change is the only constant and should thus be accepted gracefully. She suddenly felt weak in her knees as she realized that all those brave years of learning and posing strong seemed nullified in the face of a ruthless reality. Time was playing havoc and she was losing that special place. Why? She didn’t know.

There were no answers. She tried to find them. It was a futile exercise.

As it began to grow dark, she realized that there were household chores to be taken care of. Reminiscing was a luxury she could not afford.

She wondered if it was already too late for the breeze to return.