Classic love stories are not myths. In fact, if you take away the unnecessary background music and the wind that brushes your hair aside, the events might seem murkier yet believable. Married for three and a half years now, I still remember the day I met my husband for the first time, very vividly. It was more than a decade back when we were still in our ninth grade.
My impulsive and short-tempered nature was known to the people around me. I had the ‘no-nonsense’ attitude and believed in calling a spade, a spade. My husband, on the other hand, was very pragmatic and patient. He joined the school that very year. Being in a different section, we never really came face-to-face with each other. I didn’t even know about him. But one day, after the final bell, as I ran towards the bus gate, eager to get a seat in the bus for myself and my friend, I collided with him on the way. The two plastic polythenes in my hand flung into the air and the contents started showering on us one by one. My face was flushed with anger and I shouted my head off telling him to go see an eye specialist because I felt that he was blind. He did not say a word and just kept staring at me.
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Esta historia es de la edición October 2019 de Woman's Era.
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