She looked at the straw hut.
Two years. It had been two years when she was sitting under the tree and crying when Sagar came along. He stopped, bent towards her and asked if she was ok. She quickly wiped off her tears. Tears were too personal to be shared with a stranger. He sat beside her and offered her his handkerchief. She just looked away and said “I'm fine”. He sat nevertheless. And that is how it began.
Sagar would meet her everyday under this tree. And then came autumn. The tree shed its leaves … once family, now strangers. So Sagar built a straw hut with her help. They met, they talked, they shared cosy moments. A few months later he started becoming distant and aloof. The daily meetings were reduced to weekly and then fortnightly. She waited. She craved his presence, the intimacy. She asked him if he had “moved on”. He laughed and said he never leaves or moves on. But he never explained his absences to her. She waited. Everyday she would go to the straw hut and wait. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how much those moments meant to her. But he was always in a hurry. She waited. She sensed that he was under stress. She asked him and he said he will tell about it later as he was in a hurry now. She waited. She wanted to tell him that she had got an offer from a city far away, wanted to ask him if she should leave or stay. He said he'll think and let her know later. She waited. And then one day she went to the straw hut.
She looked at the straw hut. Looked at it for quite a few minutes. She then took out a box of matchsticks, lit many and kept them in the hut. Slowly, a fire started raging and eating the hut. She smiled, turned away and walked towards home. Waiting, no more.
