February, 2020.
She was angry with him, even a little furious you may say. She kept feeling that she was becoming more of an option, rather than a priority.
As her mobile vibrated, her fury did too. It was him. She answered it and he spoke in his calm voice, as always. After a brief conversation of trying to cover up her true feelings, she splattered it out. She asked him, ‘Hypothetically speaking, what if I were diagnosed with the Corona virus?’
He laughed at her question, but she insisted. So, he said, ‘If you were, I would ask my manager for a temporary leave.’ She was infuriated.
A lifetime later.
She lay in bed, her hair all grey and her cheeks all wrinkled. He sat beside her in an armchair, reading his newspaper. She asked him, ‘Hypothetically speaking, what if I bid you goodbye?’
He turned to her and laughed at her question, but before she could insist, he took her thin hands in his. Their rings clicked, and he said, ‘If you did, I would ask God for a permanent leave.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks.
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