The wind whips her hair around, its silky strands glistening in the faint light of the darkening skies. The sun is setting; all the autumn colors trailing across the skies slowly like a drawn-out goodbye, much like a lament for a day that must need to end just to give way for the moon to rise.

She stood quietly, letting the warmth of the fading light suffuse her face. In that moment right there, the glow from the setting sun is able to mask her flushed cheeks. It hides the faint traces of freckles that tend to show in stark relief whenever a blush steals across her face, when she is embarrassed or shy or feeling any strong emotion.

And she is feeling such strong emotions right now to warrant their presence.

Her hands stole upwards to cup her face, its coolness a welcome respite from the warmth she feels.

What was she thinking, running off like an errant child, she who soon will see the dawning of her 20 odd some years?

I am old enough to know better, she thought, just as a shiver passed through her tiny frame. Then more decidedly, affirmingly, Yes, I am old enough…and I do know what is best for me.

She thought of the myriad ways things have come to pass to bring her to this moment.

I could hardly have done anything else, faced as I was this crossroad. I must proceed for my own sake when happiness is within my reach. Her thoughts ran rampant, swirling alongside the chaos of her emotions. I may have been born a sad girl; must I be lonely too?

She stared unseeing, the lights across the bay twinkling in the distance as the night claims the skies.

How beautiful it is, this interplay of colors.

She has always preferred this hour, the time caught between day and night when the shadowy grey slowly inches its way across the vast expanse of the horizon, muting the vibrant colors into a whisper. It is soothing, calming, quiet. Her tempestuous nature is drawn to such things instinctively.

But it’s strange, isn’t it, when he is hardly that? His presence is hardly quiet; it seeks and grabs her attention always. And she could no more ignore him, the way he makes her feel, the way he makes her heart beat like a resounding drum, than she could ignore the pull of breath that he steals from her each and every time.

She heard his steps approach without needing to turn, and felt his arm wound about her as he hugged her close. His lips trailed across the bare of her shoulders with the merest touch, but enough that her body betrays her when it shivered in response.

“I knew you’d be here. Are you okay?” He murmured close, his breath a warm embrace on her skin. She may have felt flushed before, but that was nothing now compared to the flame he elicits.

She nodded, unable to find her voice quite yet in his nearness. She grasped his hands that held her tight, marveling at their entwined fingers; his fingers long and tapering and strong weaving with her own small fragile ones. She felt herself squeeze his hands, as if wanting to prove to herself she can hold onto him strongly too.

“Did I do the right thing? Did we?” She was finally able to put to voice the anxieties that had been gnawing at her.

“You know my answer to that” was his calm reply. “I will never regret any decision I make if it means being with you.”

She shuddered; his words always have a way of bringing everything into focus. Everything is so much clearer with him around and she is always so much more braver being with him, even though she has never been the shrinking flower type.

My heart has always been my weakness… no, not my heart, but him… He has always been my weakness.

“You are my strength, and I will not waste a single minute without you in my life any longer.” His words cut into her thoughts.

And there he goes again, voicing the heart of the matter without any preamble, pulling the words from the very depths of her soul. And by voicing them out loud, he is giving this, what they have, power and truth.

Words are only powerful when they are heard and acknowledged and received by another.

And her heart has never been as open and as ready as it has been to receive any one until she met him.

“Our life begins now. I don’t regret this. I just wished our families…” her voice caught, stopped by his gentle kiss.

“I’m sorry to take that from you. I know you wanted to have them here.” He murmured. “I promise we will have our day, again.”

“You know it’s not about the hoopla; I‘m not looking for all that.”

“I know.”

“I just hope our families would understand why this suddenness…” she spoke slowly. She did not want to imply any sort of regrets.

“That's why I’ve booked their flights; they’ll be here before daylight.” 

She turned to face him, eyes all rounded, so luminous with unshed tears. Why should she be surprised? He reads her so very easily, anticipating her emotions, her thoughts even before she could put them to words.

He took her hand, the one with the shining new band, the one with stones glinting even with the faintest light from the skies, as if daring even the brightest of the stars shining that night in Phuket to compete with its brilliance, and brought it gently to his lips.

“I will marry you a thousand times over in front of each and every person in this world if that is your wish.”

.

.

.