The flairs of the curtain were tickling the floor. It's always the morning rays and the mild flow of the air; they touched and moved everything within the house.
The man and woman were dozing off wrapped in a blanket. Such blankets ought to make you feel cosy, what were they made of?
The couple couldn't afford anything natural and expensive. It must be dyed in the easiest way. To be precise, it's simply synthetic and cheaper.
They didn't care about the cost. They never took notice of the valuables. It was always about what was needed to serve their drab, and wilted life.
However, they wished not to rely on buying things with money. They could create things; make a blanket rather than buy one. They were partners and textile manufacturers. It was strange that they didn't use their own products.
In the context of being partners, they weren't a happy couple. The man wouldn't kiss the woman until she had wore a perfume. The woman wouldn't respond to any physical affection until his breath was refreshed.
These were the only few luxuries they preferred to indulge in. Everything else was just what was needed.
Although the love was crippled, they were fine. They knew how to figure it out.
Every weekend, the woman was left alone. She would jog at the close by park; even joined her friends for the kitty party. But she was way beyond all these gilded opportunities.
In the middle of some nights, she would wake up and whisper to her husband in a stiffened voice, "I need the love I don't have to crave for."
While some other nights she said, "The colors of our khaadi doesn't match me." Then she would sleep peacefully just for another hour.
She had done this twice. The husband was always dead asleep. He slept quite well.
One day he woke up to touch her ear lobe, and he pressed his lips to her cheeks. She didn't like the smell of his spittle staining her skin. But the woman managed to hear what he said.
"I like to dance with that woman."
"Who?" She asked.
"That unmarried lady."
"Why do you like her?"
"I just like her. I know you like her too."
He slept.
The wife for the first time noticed the fan squeaking. She knew it always did, but it never screamed this harsh before.
"I love her," She made it audible.