'Prodigal Love?' - Prologue

‘I love you now and ever . . .
This is TRUE . . .
Nothing can be as pure, deep and true as this color . . .
Don’t think everyone is the same . . .
Few r mad!
This is my last quote to you, written in the true color of love to prove I have lived for you and dying as well . . .
I wish you all the best in life. I am giving up mine so you can live happily now. I loved you always and am taking that with me. I am gone now.’

It was the spring of 2015 when Samaira saw this message on her phone; it was a picture of a letter written in blood. She was devastated.
‘Why would he do this? How will I tell my parents?’ were the thoughts running through her mind. Everything was over. The most important person in her life was the one who had hurt her the most. She had failed in her relationship and was traumatized. Her heart was grieving.

Within a few minutes, she received a phone call from his number.
‘Hello,’ said Samaira, answering the phone anxiously.
‘Hello, Madam,’ said the person on the phone in a Haryanvi accent from Haryana state in north India.
‘Who are you? Why do you have this phone?’ enquired Samaira, terrified to death.
‘Madam, I am a passerby and there is a man lying here covered in blood. I am using his phone to call you because I found your number in the last dialed list.’
‘What happened? Is he OK? Is he breathing?’ she enquired more.
‘I don’t know what happened. I was just driving by the Faridabad Gurgaon road and saw this man collapsed with his wrist cut,’ the person replied.
‘Oh my God! Can you please take him to the hospital immediately? I beg you,’ she sobbed.
‘Madam, I don’t want to get into all this as it’s a police case, and I can’t help. My job was to inform you and I have done it; the rest is up to you.’
Bhaiya (brother), I beg you to help. I am out of the country and cannot come there. I don’t even have any of his family member’s phone numbers to inform them, so please help. Please take him to the nearest hospital yourself or call the 100 number and inform the police so they can help.’
Arrey, Madam, yeh police case hai, mujhe ismein nahin padna (Ma’am, this is a police case, I don’t want to be involved).’
‘Please, Bhaiya, please help. I am requesting you from the bottom of my heart. Please help us.’
‘OK, because you are insisting so much I will take him to the hospital and leave him there. If this becomes a police case, you will have to handle it. I will give them your number.’
‘Sure, please inform me once you reach the hospital.’
‘OK. I will leave now.’
Ji, Bhaiya (yes, brother), thank you so much.’

There was pin drop silence. Her heart was pounding fast. She was worried and scared. She was alone and had no one to talk to. The pain was unbearable. She sobbed and thought about him, gazing at the wall in front of her.
‘How could he do this?’ she asked herself.
‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’
‘Why did this happen to me?’
‘Am I so bad that I deserved this?’
‘What sin did I ever commit?’
‘Do I deserve to live now, or should I die?’
‘Tell me God, should I die?’ she screamed, looking towards the roof.
‘Yes, I should die.’
‘No one loves me.’
‘I am all alone. Why am I even needed?’
‘I should die.’

She immediately got up and walked towards the kitchen, throwing and kicking everything that came in her way and shouting,
‘Where is the knife? Where is the knife?’
‘Damn, why can’t I find a knife in my house now?’
‘What the hell has happened to me?’
‘My life is over.’ (Screaming)
‘My life is over.’
‘There is nothing else left now.’
‘Nothing left at all. I am alone here in this world.’ (Sobbing, screaming)
‘Alone and lonely. Very lonely.’

Comments are closed.

  • About Preeti

    Preeti Narang is the author of the book 'Prodigal Love?'. She has a Master's degree in Software Systems and has been working in the IT industry...(continued)

  • Contact information

    Preeti Narang
    California, USA

    contact@narangpreeti.com