It had been a year since they spoke, over an unorthodox phone call that he couldn’t quite forget. He wasn’t a saint; he couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t thought of giving up. But she hadn’t let him.
He remained obscured as he pulled his coat around his chin. A strange liquid fire coursed through his stomach, but a chill ran down his back. He peered at a tiny rectangular box, probably the size of his palm, wrapped neatly in blue and silver gift paper. Beside it were two familiar cups seated neatly by the doorstep. Her doorstep. He couldn’t recall the route he took to get there. He couldn’t tell how long he had been driving. He almost couldn’t recognise the waves of realisation that hit him when he spotted two cups of unclaimed coffee, now cold from the winter chill, waiting for him. He could only remember that his resolve was broken the minute he picked up his phone that morning.
She had reached out to him with a simple text, one that he could hardly negate, reading it five times over, or more.
“Just about a year ago in the midst of the not-so-cheerful festive season, I received the strangest yet most heartwarming call. I’ll like to share the love this time. I’ve been wanting to leave a little something for you, but I still don’t know who you are or where I could find you. I’ll leave it at my doorstep, like you once did.”
His eyes stung with unshed tears. Why, he had asked. Why had she entertained his misbehaviours? Why had she conceded to his impertinence? Why hadn’t she demanded an answer, or threatened to walk away when she didn’t get one?
“If you’d wished to remain a secret, or set ground rules to this, I guess I have no right to challenge it. I was hoping I could recognise you somehow; grab a coffee or something. It’s been a year, and I haven’t. That didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to give up. But somehow you were always there. Always here. You didn’t let me.”
They were afraid to lose what they shared, yet they had trudged on since their serendipitous encounter, in little ways they each knew how to. She had asked if he would come by. He had impetuously dialled her number and hung up almost instantly when the line got through. He felt juvenile, although he couldn’t help it. He was certain he would have spilled the emotions clamped within his chest, and blurted words he didn’t want her to hear; at least not over the phone, yet. But it wasn’t a game, and he should have known that there shouldn’t be rules. His heart writhed when he imagined what his compulsion might have made her feel.
She was stronger than that.
“Maybe one day, when you’re ready to break the rules, you’ll let me know who you are.”
He stood at her door, his knuckles white from the grip he held on his phone. His right index hovered hesitantly, momentarily, almost precariously, over the doorbell.
His finger remained poised over the ‘send’ button on his screen.
— “Certainly.”
He retreated, slowly tucking his finger within his palm, into the shelter of his gloved fist.
~END
This is Part 7, and the final installation of a story about two strangers.
It started with a call that can be found here at Part 1 here. The rest of the parts are linked up at the end of each post.
Wow. What an ending. 💕
Oh Sarah, you’re here… thanks for dropping by. Seems it coincided with your post about Stubborn Love…
Yes it did. And of course I’m here. I check my followed sites list many times a day, just so I can see things like this! 😊😊
Read and reread cover to cover. Pretty impressive tale. The mark of a good story is the reader wants more … yes, I’d like some more.
Thank you for dropping by and your kind comments! I’ll write more; depends on whether he hit the bell, or just hit ‘send’… or neither.
Hopeless romantic, I’m afraid. I wanted him to ring the bell 🙂
Are you sure he didn’t? 😉
that’s some kind
of love 🙂
Well… Love comes in many forms, indeed.
Thanks for coming by!
Oh, I love this. 🙂 It ended with such suspense, and yet it gave the reader just enough to know that he came, she left him coffee, and he’s so close to maybe knocking on her door. Maybe that is why he didn’t send the text?
Sending virtual hugs to you, yes. What did he do… Did he send and ring the bell, or send only, or ring the bell anyway? What would have been your preferred ending?
Oh, it’s so tough. I think that my preferred ending might have been to ring the door bell. Just go all in & take a huge chance. And to see them meet at last with her knowing it was him all along.
🙂 I see. These two have got some considerations that aren’t too explicitly stated. I like the comments coming. I think he rang the bell too. It’s just, whether he ran off to hide again right after -.-
LOL Hey, one small act of courage is still a step in the right direction. 🙂
*Sigh…
At first I thought I really want to smack this guy. 😀 But now I understood. Human connections don’t exactly have to be in tangible form.
The whole story is shrouded in secrecy or with mystery.
Whatever he did, unorthodox it may be, affected her …. in a good way.
I say let the mystery remain a mystery, and a good enough memory.
Oh Rommel, I’m surprised by your change in stance. I guess you’ve put it most succinctly and accurately – human connections need not be tangible. Whatever the mystery, they had a mutually decent impact on one another. Thanks for reading!