He loves me... He loves me not...

There she sat on the huge French window sill of her bedroom smoking away a cigarette. She looked down from the 9th floor just to see the mad rush of vehicles on the busy roads of Mumbai. It was 1.30 am. The next day being a Sunday she could afford to be awake this late. A typical professional? Hmm...


As she got up to light her second cigarette in half an hour, she looked at him. There he lay on her double bed, half naked, giving her a smile. He was handsome. He always has been. She remembered the first time she saw him years ago. She had been enchanted as though she had just seen a Greek God.


Years later when they met again the sparks just flew off. And before they knew it, they had proclaimed themselves to be 'in love'. And now after 2 years of their relationship, why is she feeling strange? Or rephrase it... Why is she feeling that she's a stranger to him? She knew for sure that she loved him but... She was quite surprised by this thought of hers.


She looked at him again. He was wide awake surfing through channels. He suddenly got up and offered her for a coffee. She accepted and while he walked away to the kitchen, she noticed a bunch of roses withering away. He had given it to her as part of their making up that evening during dinner. She picked up a rose and started plucking the petals one by one... She remembered seeing that somewhere...


She started off...


'He loves me...' 'He loves me not...' 'He loves me...' 'He loves me not...' 'He loves me...' 'He loves me not...' 'He loves me...' 'He loves me not...' 'He loves me...'


and as he entered the bedroom with 2 cups of steaming coffee she was at the last petal....


'He loves me not...'