Vinod Sebastian – B.Tech, M.Com, PGCBM, PGCPM, PGDBIO

Hi I'm a Web Architect by Profession and an Artist by nature. I love empowering People, aligning to Processes and delivering Projects.


Tag: Story

Story

  • 🌌 A Night By My Self

    🌌 A Night By My Self

    Written in 2004, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Night Before

    It was dark and lazy. The air was cold, and the wind sang a melody to those sound asleep. Whether they heard it, I’d never know—for the bed felt like a better invitation. Yet I stood, fighting all odds, my bed looking more loyal than ever.

    Don’t mistake me for a half-crazy man sharing his night with the wind and the chilly aura. I was a man cornered by conniving higher echelons—doomed to spend the night at my desk. My destiny: to scan pages of small printed alphabets, which at that hour seemed to vanish.

    To be clear, I had to finish dozens of pages on Distributed Computing—a subject whose very thought disturbs me to this day.

    II. The Solitary Struggle

    What made it strange was knowing I was the lone soul trying to comprehend it all. My friends had surrendered to sleep—some by knowledge, some by age-old tricks. There were the “know-it-alls” who slept early, the “bad guys” who abandoned the race, and the “poor guys” who never started. I was a loner—with a dearer bed and a dreaded book.

    III. The Escape

    Then, miraculously, a thought darted in: “Why don’t you go out and take a break?”

    I stepped outside. A new dimension struck me. I had been trying to decode Latin and Greek from some madman’s mind, and now I stood beneath stars—glowing, comforting, timeless.

    What if there were aliens? How large were the stars? Didn’t they deserve more attention?

    I was struck by the enormity of the contrast—between black letters on paper and the vast, ancient cosmos. Why was I stuck believing those pages were all that mattered for tomorrow?

    Weren’t there galaxies to ponder, stars with stories to tell? How many unnoticed eyes had fallen on me?

    IV. The Return

    But reality called me back. The brute fact: an exam loomed, and I was one of the least equipped.

    I walked back to my room, catching all I could from the speaking stars and the milky sky. I believed there would be another day—when I’d sit and gaze, wonder at nature, learn from it, and simply be with it.

    But will there be such a day? The cosy bed is a cunning servant.

    Footnote: I wrote this at 3 AM before my Distributed Computing semester exam in college. I hadn’t studied a thing and had pages of photostat to cover. But luckily, I passed—by writing my own version of answers (stories) 🙂

  • 🧱 A Pilgrim’s Silence

    🧱 A Pilgrim’s Silence

    Written in 2006 – Idea seeded by a friend, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Worker

    Anil was a manual worker in Bombay, employed by a construction company. In his early 40s, life had been rough. His days were spent hauling cement, bricks, and laboring under the scorching sun. He had a family—a wife, Lakshmi, and a ten-year-old daughter—whom he hadn’t seen in six months.

    This time, his journey home was different. A month ago, Anil had learned he was HIV positive. He didn’t know how it happened. He had been with other women—fellow laborers—during his long absences from home. “It’s not news to have sex with other women when you meet your family only twice a year,” he told himself after each encounter. Then he’d light a beedi and stare into the night.

    But now, he carried an infectious virus. He couldn’t tell Lakshmi. What if she asked for sex? He had never used protection with her. If he did now, she might suspect. He was afraid.

    II. The Idea

    The general compartment was overcrowded and stifling. Somewhere on that train ride, an idea struck him—Sabarimala.

    He had a month of leave. He could claim he was observing austerities for the pilgrimage. That would explain the beard, the abstinence, the silence. “Maybe I’ll get some grace from God,” he thought.

    Kerala is a land of temples. Sabarimala, nestled in the Sahyadri Mountains, is one of its holiest. Legend says Parasurama Maharshi installed the idol of Lord Ayyappa there. Pilgrimage season runs from November to January. Devotees observe 41 days of strict austerities—no meat, no pleasure, no indulgence.

    III. The Homecoming

    On a Saturday, Anil reached Thrissur. He caught a bus and arrived home. Lakshmi greeted him—bathed, jasmine flowers in her hair, the house spotless. Their daughter waited eagerly for the gifts he’d bring. He had brought her two new dresses.

    “How was the trip?” Lakshmi asked.
    “Extremely tiresome,” he replied.
    “Why so much beard? You haven’t shaved.”
    “I intend to go to Sabarimala,” he said, brushing his fingers over his face.
    “Oh… so you’re observing austerities?” she asked, a little disappointed.

    She had cooked non-vegetarian food to celebrate. That also meant no sex—not that she was eager. But still, the silence between them grew.

    IV. The Emergency

    Twenty days into his austerities, tragedy struck. Their daughter was in an accident. The school bus collided with another. Casualties were high. She was rushed to the hospital—critical. She needed blood. Her type was rare. Anil had it.

    “Anil, they want your blood,” Lakshmi said.
    “Our child is critical.”
    “Why don’t you speak?”

    V. The Silence

    How could he tell her?

    That he was HIV positive. That he had been unfaithful. That he couldn’t give blood to his own daughter.

    He stood there, helpless.

  • 🎨 A Girl Named Sreeja

    🎨 A Girl Named Sreeja

    Written across 2002–2003, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Notebook

    “Roll number twenty-eight, how does amplifier work?”

    Kamal looked down—not at notes, but at the face he had drawn. Beautiful. Silent.

    “Sir, I don’t know.”

    “You were scribbling so much. Look it up and answer.”

    “I haven’t written anything.”

    “Bring me the book.”

    Kamal hesitated. Then, in a moment of panic, he threw the notebook out the window.

    Suspension followed. The principal. The shame. But his parents were spared. He had done it all—for her.

    II. Reena and the Secret

    Reena teased him about his sketches. She was engaged. A good friend. He would draw her portrait for her wedding. But the notebook held someone else’s face—Sreeja.

    III. The Girl in the Pages

    Sreeja had just joined the class. Quiet, dreamy, delicate. She came from Kottarakkara. Her eyes told stories. She loved stars, rain, and autumn flowers. Kamal had drawn her face again and again—without her knowing.

    But the notebook was recovered. The secret was out.

    IV. The Apology

    “What if I go and say sorry?” Kamal thought.

    He waited by the hostel path. When she arrived, he asked to speak.

    “I’m sorry. I did a wrong thing. Please forgive me.”

    “I hate you. Don’t come to me again.”

    She sobbed. Kamal walked away, broken. That night, for the first time, he drank toddy and ate kappa and fish.

    V. The Call

    Later that evening, his friends woke him. A call.

    “Kamal, I behaved rudely. I’m sorry. Can we be friends?”

    “Yes. Only good friends.”

    He promised never to hurt her. Never to use her friendship for love. But he loved her deeply.

    VI. The Realization

    Spring arrived. At a friend’s wedding, they discovered the truth—they were in love.

    “When is your marriage?”

    “After Kamal gets a good job and asks my hand.”

    “I love you.”

    “Even I am deeply in love with you.”

    They didn’t know when it began. It had crept in quietly, unnoticed.

    VII. The Barrier

    Months passed. Then came the proposal—from someone else.

    “Kamal, I love my parents. I can’t marry anyone else.”

    “I wish I were rich. Or you were born in a hut.”

    She cried. He held her close and prayed never to lose her.

    VIII. The Goodbye

    Exams ended. College was over. Kamal and Sreeja stood in a corner, sharing the sorrow of separation.

    “I will wait for you. Clear your debts. Come with your family and ask my hand.”

    “Don’t wait for me. You’ll find someone better.”

    “But I want only you.”

    “I love you—not just in this life, but in a thousand more.”

    He gave her the notebook—the one he had thrown, recovered, and kept safe. She held it like a memory.

    “You should fly like a butterfly. Enjoy life. Without that, I will hate you.”

    Kamal placed the book beside the window. He walked down the stairs, unable to look back. His whole body felt weak.

    IX. The Train

    The train came to a sudden halt. Kamal woke from his dreams. Goodbye to Trivandrum—the city of faces, of memories, and of Sreeja.

    “I will wait.” Her words echoed in his mind, spoken between sobs as he walked down the stairs that day.

    X. The Doubt

    Kamal had thought deeply about her. She was born into comfort, raised in luxury. Why should she wait for him? When would he clear his debts, rebuild his life, earn her parents’ consent?

    What if life enslaved him again?

    He had told her all this. But still, her words lingered.

    XI. The Question

    Life was a high hurdle. Would she still be there once he crossed it?

    “To think she would be there itself was wrong,” he told himself.

    Let the gods give her happiness. Let her fly free. Everlasting love—wasn’t that just a story artists and movies made up?

    He buried his desires and stepped into the train.

    Far away, miles away, in the nature of man to forget with the wheels of time—in a world where relationships are just words—

    Will the girl named Sreeja wait with a confidence her lover himself could never give?

  • 🌙 A Kiss To Moonlight

    🌙 A Kiss To Moonlight

    Written in 2000, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Book That Began It All

    It was Valentine’s Day. Love lingered in the air. Charles had gone to rent a book—Love Story by Erich Segal. Just one copy remained. Before he could reach it, a young woman placed her hand on it.

    “Do you mind if I have it?” she asked, smiling apologetically.

    “Sure, you can,” he replied, though he wished he had it.

    “Can you inform me once you finish reading it? I’ll collect it right away.”

    “Sure. Can I have your mobile number?” she asked.

    “9846854122. My name is Charles.”

    “Nancy. Nice meeting you.”

    II. The First Call

    The next day, his phone rang.

    “Is it Charles?”

    “Yes, speaking.”

    “This is Nancy. I’ve finished the book. I’ll return it this evening.”

    “What time?”

    “Around five.”

    Charles met her at the library. He felt drawn to her—beautiful, thoughtful, and with the same taste in books.

    He took a risk.

    “Can I have your phone number, if you don’t mind?”

    “Oh sure. 9153145877.”

    He scribbled it on a note from his wallet. Later, he realized he’d lost it. He rushed to the grocery shop where he’d used the note.

    “I gave you a note with an important number. Can I have it back?”

    “It may have changed hands. Sorry.”

    Charles left disappointed. He scolded himself for being careless.

    III. The Date

    Suddenly, his mobile rang again.

    “Is it Charles?”

    “Yes.”

    “I want to ask you out. Do you mind?”

    “I was going to ask the same. But I lost your number.”

    “Let’s meet at A La Planche. 7 PM sharp.”

    “Sure.”

    IV. Candlelight and Connection

    The candlelight cast golden rays. Their eyes locked, speaking more than words could. They dined together.

    “What made you think I’d say yes?”

    “You’re single, have eyes that understand love, a heart that loves romance.”

    “Oh really?” Charles smiled.

    “What are you doing?”

    “Major in electronics. But now doing my bachelors in romance.”

    “So cute. I’m doing journalism.”

    They talked until the manager reminded them the restaurant was closing.

    V. The Season of Love

    Spring arrived. Nature bloomed. Love was everywhere. Charles and Nancy met often, though studies kept them apart.

    “I can’t go a day without talking to you.”

    “Then look at the moon and remember my face. You’ll hear me speak to your heart.”

    “I’ll kiss you goodnight too.”

    “So how should this set forth?”

    “What?”

    “Our love story.”

    “Providence can only tell.”

    VI. The Twist

    They married. A fairy tale ending. Their wedding photo hung on the wall.

    Five months later, Nancy hadn’t returned from college. Charles felt uneasy. Then came the call.

    “Your wife is critical. A gas tanker collided with her car.”

  • 💌 First Love

    💌 First Love

    Written in 2006, re-written with Copilot

    I. Eleven Years Later

    It was night. The sun had receded, and the stars had taken their place. Joseph lay awake, thinking about the day ahead. Tomorrow was the reunion—eleven years since he last saw many of his classmates. Some faces he had glimpsed on Orkut, the online portal reconnecting old friends. But there was one face he couldn’t forget.

    II. The Bubble-Gum Girl

    Joseph was in sixth grade when he met Sheeba. She sat near him—two corners apart in a classroom split between boys and girls. Her father worked in Dubai and brought her fancy stationery: rubbers, pencils, and scales with shifting images. Joseph adored those things.

    One afternoon, he asked Sheeba if she could get him a set. She promised she would when her father returned. That’s how it began.

    III. Mischief and Mayhem

    By seventh grade, Joseph had grown mischievous. One day, he boldly told Sheeba, “I love you.” She slapped him and chased him with her slipper. He ran, laughing.

    The next day, Joseph told his friends Viju and Rony. They decided to get revenge. They chewed bubble gum and stuck it to Sheeba’s bench. She sat, unaware. At recess, the gum clung to her skirt. Laughter erupted. She cried.

    She reported it. The teacher punished the boys—made them wash and iron the skirt. The next day, Sheeba brought it to Joseph. He washed it. And somehow, from that mess, a friendship bloomed. They laughed, fought, and shared moments. But the school only went up to seventh grade. At year’s end, they parted with tears.

    IV. The Reunion Plan

    Now, eleven years later, Joseph still remembered the bubble-gum-stuck girl. He wanted to see her again. So he organized a reunion.

    He had seen her on Orkut—grown into a beautiful woman. They had spoken briefly on the phone. But seeing her in person would be different.

    He still adored her. He worked in the Merchant Navy and would be shipping out soon. If he had anything to say, it had to be now. His family knew about her and approved. Their backgrounds matched. Everything aligned.

    But what if she declined? His classmates were already teasing him. He feared looking like a fool.

    Rony, ever the rescuer, had an idea:

    “Why don’t you propose on April first? If she says no, just say it was an April Fool’s joke.”

    Brilliant, Joseph thought. Tomorrow was April 1st. He would propose.

    V. The Day Arrives

    Joseph dressed carefully, sprayed on cologne, and arrived early. As an organizer, he had to be there first. When Sheeba arrived, he greeted her and escorted her in. He had brought his car to drop her home afterward.

    The party was a hit. Old friends reunited, laughter echoed, stories flowed. The bubble-gum tale resurfaced more than once.

    VI. The Proposal

    After lunch, Joseph approached Sheeba.

    “Can I talk to you personally for some time?”

    “Sure,” she smiled.

    “You remember the old days?”

    “You mean the day I slapped you and the bubble-gum story?”

    “Yes,” he laughed. Then, serious: “I called you to propose. I’ve adored you all these years. I want to marry you. I’ll ask my parents to speak to yours—if you don’t mind.”

    She sighed. “I also like you. Today I’ll ask my parents.”

    From a distance, voices called out:

    “Hey, what are you doing there?”
    “Are you proposing?”

    They smiled and parted.

    VII. The Evening

    Later, after the girls had left, the boys gathered around.

    “What were you doing with Sheeba?”
    “Is it the old story?”

    “I proposed. She’ll ask her parents tonight. If they agree, I’ll ask for her hand through mine,” Joseph said.

    “Are you serious?”

    “Yes, I am.”

    “Then we’ll need a bigger party next time,” someone laughed.

  • 💔 Let My Angel Fall

    💔 Let My Angel Fall

    Written in 2006, re-written with Copilot

    I. The First Encounter

    It was class 11. Rahul was new to the school. That’s where he met Suja.

    Suja had been there since the school’s inception. Quiet, focused, and devoted to her studies. Rahul, on the other hand, was mischievous and smart—more interested in making friends and exploring the world than textbooks.

    He had never fallen in love. Plenty of girlfriends, but never anyone special. His life moved forward without romance, unlike most boys his age.

    II. The Spark

    Suja was beautiful—striking enough to turn heads. But she never cared. Her focus was singular: academics. She topped most subjects and was preparing for the IIT entrance exam.

    When Rahul first spoke to her, it was for directions. She asked him to follow her. That simple walk sparked something.

    They were placed in the same physics lab group. Suja, a fast learner, helped Rahul with experiments. Her enthusiasm and radiant smile began to captivate him.

    He didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t love, but something miraculous. Tuesdays and Thursdays—lab days—became his favorite.

    His friends noticed. They teased him, scribbled her name in his notebooks, poked fun. But Rahul never admitted anything.

    III. The Missed Chance

    In class 12, Rahul made up his mind. He would propose.

    Then Iqbal, one of his closest friends, confessed his love for Suja. Iqbal was bold, admired, and open. He called Suja and proposed. She laughed it off.

    The next day, Iqbal treated his friends and shared the story. They toasted his courage. Rahul joined in, smiling, but inside he felt shattered.

    He had missed his chance. He chose friendship over love. He buried his feelings and invented a story about a girlfriend back home.

    Later, he learned Suja had rejected Iqbal because of religion. Her parents wouldn’t approve, and she believed in marrying someone they’d accept.

    IV. The Years That Followed

    School ended. Rahul and Iqbal joined engineering colleges through state entrance. Suja cracked the IIT national exam.

    Years passed. Iqbal got married. Suja graduated from IIT Bombay and landed a high-paying job at a top firm.

    Rahul still loved her. Both were unmarried. But she was far ahead—successful, brilliant, untouchable. He had a modest job and dreams. She had a future.

    V. The Silent Wish

    “LET MY ANGEL FALL”

    He whispered it in his heart. A wish born of longing and helplessness.

    “IS IT WRONG TO WISH SO, IS IT WRONG?”

  • ❄️ Tanu

    ❄️ Tanu

    A story from 1999, re-written with Copilot

    I. A Name That Stopped Me

    It was a cold December night. The world slept, except for a handful of souls glued to their screens. I was deep in a chatting spree, bouncing between facades and aliases. That’s when I saw her name.

    Tanu. Simple. Soft. Authentic. I pinged her.

    “Hi.”
    No reply.

    “Hi.”
    She responded.
    “I want to make friendship with you.”
    “Sure,” she replied.

    And just like that, a connection sparked.

    II. The Beginning of Something

    She said her name was Tanu. I asked her age. It seemed perfect. Or maybe she was playing me. In chat rooms, you could be anyone. I knew that well—I’d been a 20-year-old girl, a 35-year-old American, a doctor, even a church priest.

    I first saw a computer in college. I’d grown up in a village where technology hadn’t yet arrived. My friend Rahul introduced me to chatting.

    “Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

    I did. And I never stopped.

    Months passed. My bond with Tanu grew. We chatted late into the night, sometimes from internet cafés that stayed open just for people like me. After college, I moved to Bombay. With broadband at home, I could talk to her for hours.

    She became my constant. We spoke about everything—books, news, dreams, fears. She knew the corners of my mind. I believed I knew hers too. Across miles, something tender began to bloom.

    III. The Question I Never Asked

    I returned home for my sister’s wedding. The house was alive—shopping, relatives, laughter, gossip. One afternoon, over lunch, my mother looked at me and asked:

    “Once your sister is married, I want you to get married.”
    “I’m not ready.”
    “Do you have someone in mind?”

    How could I tell her about Tanu? I hadn’t even asked Tanu how she felt. I should have. She looked beautiful in the photo she sent. I would ask her.

    “No one,” I lied.

    That night, I sat at my computer with a racing heart.

    “Da, I want to ask you something.”
    “What is it?”
    “I want you. Will you marry me?”
    “Sorry yaar. I’m not the marrying type. I plan to remain single.”
    “Oh, it’s fine. I just asked.”

    We continued chatting as if nothing had changed. But something had.

    IV. The Life That Moved On

    Years passed. I was back at the same dining table. My mother, persistent as ever, looked at me with quiet urgency.

    “You have to marry. It’s getting late.”
    “I’m still not ready.”
    “You have to,” she said.

    I saw the desperation in her eyes. I gave in. I got married.

    V. The Last Chat

    One night, I felt the old pull. I hadn’t spoken to Tanu in a while. Life had changed. I was devoted to my wife, to my new world. But something about Tanu lingered.

    I tiptoed to my computer, kissed the air toward my sleeping wife, and logged in.

    Tanu was online. We chatted like old times. Familiar. Easy. Then came the question I never expected.

    “Will you marry me?”

    My fingers froze. I stared at the screen. The words blurred. I took a deep breath, shut down the computer, and returned to bed.

    VI. The Memory I Kept

    Tanu had been my friend. My first crush. My first love. I would have loved to marry her. But I was married now. I had responsibilities.

    I decided never to chat with her again. I wouldn’t tell her I was married. I wouldn’t risk losing her.

    Let her remain a sweet memory. A frozen moment.

    A friend called Tanu.

  • 💔 She Was an Ideal Match

    💔 She Was an Ideal Match

    Written in 2000, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Beginning

    She was an ideal match—same religion, similar families, same college, same stream, same class, and in future even the same industry. Everything aligned. But… is it fate?

    The summer had passed, the college selected, the stream chosen. Was it my good luck that we were in the same class? I was an introvert and I never noticed her at first. It took me more than a semester to even see her—and had it not been for one incident, I might never have noticed her at all.

    It was Girls vs Boys—Hum Tum. We were playing anthakshari. The scores fluctuated, but anyone watching could see we were slowly losing our grip. I sat quietly, shy to use my vocals, just listening to the songs.

    “Hey Suraj is supporting the girls. See, he doesn’t even hum. Why don’t you join the girls?”

    I was embarrassed. But then came a voice—sweet, bold, witty.

    “What about you? You’re doing a great job helping us.”

    Everyone laughed. She had come to my rescue. That was the moment I noticed her.

    II. The Growing Feeling

    Days passed. I began observing her. The more I saw, the more I liked. She wasn’t timid like me. She was sweet, smart, active—and beautiful, at least to my eyes.

    Beauty is subjective. Another boy might have chosen someone else. But for me, she was perfection. That’s why I thought she was made for me.

    But I was a social disaster. I rarely talked to girls—and never really talked to her. I just watched, hoping for a sign.

    III. The Missed Moment

    Four semesters passed. I was getting braver. I skipped classes, watched movies, played anthakshari. Love was blooming all around. I decided to propose.

    Then my best friend told me something shocking—he was in love with her and planned to propose. He was an extrovert, admired by many. I knew I had no chance. And I couldn’t bring myself to compete with him.

    So I let go. I made up a story about a girlfriend back home. The proposal failed, but my tale had already taken root.

    Later, I learned she would have accepted him—if only he were of the same religion. She had told him her parents wouldn’t approve otherwise. She believed in finding someone her family would accept.

    IV. The Years That Passed

    Years went by. I matured. I had girlfriends. But I couldn’t forget her.

    Marriage plans began circulating at home. I decided to ask for her hand—through my parents. I pinged her and we chatted.

    “Howdy?” I typed.
    “Doing fine. What about you?” she replied.
    “I’m fine.”

    “Hey, are you… not marrying?” I asked.

    “Yes, actually I’m engaged. It’s a big love story. I’m very happy.”

    “Great. I’m also happy for you. Congrats.”

    It was finger muscle memory. But my heart had stopped ticking.

    V. The Reflection

    I should have proposed earlier. She was an ideal match—same religion, similar families, same college, same stream, same class, and in future even the same industry. Everything aligned. But…

  • 💔 A Choice to Differ

    💔 A Choice to Differ

    A story from 2005, re-written with Copilot

    I. The Park and the First Glance

    Life is full of choices. Most people shy away from them—duck, dive, hide. But what do you do when you choose to differ?

    It was a pleasant summer afternoon. The sun was gentle, the breeze kind. I had walked into the park to sit, breathe, and rejuvenate. That’s when I saw her.

    She was young, cheerful, radiant. Two children danced around her, laughing and chasing each other in circles near my bench. She didn’t look old enough to be their mother, but I presumed she was married.

    “Hey Mishel, Mike, come here!” she called out.

    “Sorry for bothering you,” she said.

    “No, no, no. They’re bothering me the least,” I replied.

    “They’re very naughty.”
    “Your kids?”
    “No, my elder sister’s.”

    That was how we met. From that day on, we talked often. We began frequenting the park together. Something gentle began to grow.

    II. The Words That Echo

    One evening, I picked up the phone. My heart was racing.

    “Hey, I wish I could marry you,” I said.

    “Sorry.”
    “Why? Don’t you like me?”
    “Yes, I like you. But I can’t marry you.”

    Her words echoed in my mind for days. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t erase her from my thoughts. I needed to know why.

    III. The Question That Hung

    Days passed. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus. I needed an answer.

    “Hey, I want to know something. Whether you want to marry me, it’s your choice. But still, I want to know the reason. Please… please…”

    She hung up. I sat there, staring at the silent phone. The question lingered.

    IV. The Choice

    Do you want to marry a girl you love—even if it were for a few days?

    That was the choice.

    V. The Truth Beneath the Smile

    The park looked more beautiful than ever. She stood there like a shining star. She had called me. I didn’t know why. Did she have some corner of love for me?

    “Hey, I was thinking about what you asked last time,” she said.
    “Really? I forgot,” I teased.
    “What was it about?”
    “Something like… about marrying me?”
    “I remember,” I said softly.

    She looked down. Her face was filled with sadness.

    “I just want to clear my conscience,” she said.
    “You are very adorable. I would have really loved to marry you. But… I have only a few days to live. I’m in the last stages of cancer. The doctors see no hope.”

    VI. The Answer I Chose

    Do you want to marry a girl you love—even if it were for a few days?

    That was the choice. I made mine. I convinced her to marry me.

    VII. One More Day

    Today, as I wake up, I don’t know if she’ll be there to tell me how much she cares. I pray to the gods to give her one more day.

    It has been thus, every single day.