Trouble before paradise

"I'm not used to being loved

I wouldn't know what to do"

F. Scott Fitzgerald

.

The evening descended with forlornness but it was graceful. The birds were tweeting from a distance and the old tree with big trunk projected a silhouette from the light cast from behind it. With the placid hour she was content and it had nothing to do with the presence of Fareed.

"Let's sit here" Salima suggested pointing at an old bench littered with dry leaves at the bottom not far from her room. She didn't want too much closure with Fareed since he insisted.

"The last time, it was you who choose where we sit. You think only you have a say here, woman?"

Addressing her in the most formal manner with suppressed hostility, covering it up with a smile. His fake smile. It made her somewhat cold. The absence of even the slightest affection.