I promise you I will only drink once, the day you'll be getting married.


"There is no boy that never drinks."
"I promise you I will only drink once, the day you'll be getting married."
We giggled as I pulled her cheeks. She gave me a punch in the stomach.

I remember how we used to laugh at the idea, not realizing what the future holds. Life happened. We drifted apart. As I see my friend's girl getting married and him broken off completely, I visualize myself in his situation. 2-3 years later, we'll separate, probably never to meet again. After some years I'll hear the news of you getting married. I will go numb. I'll cry myself to sleep over the next few days. Men don't cry. Yes, the society has taught us that. But we do. For the ones we don't want to lose. Nobody will see or hear my anguish wrapped in the eerie silence of night. The pillows will soak in the tears and the blankets will be making an appearance for fake condolences, trying to cover my outbursts. People will bemoan the sudden appearance of the past me, cold hearted and cruel. They will never understand. I don't expect them to. This letter is for the future me. All the best.
It's been 5 years since I opened the letter. I ought to do it on the dooms day. I saw it today. You're looking happy, flashing the gold ornaments in the pictures. We don't talk now. Still, I keep waiting for you. Hope never dies, funny thing this! The reaction was not the same as the letter predicted. Yet I sensed something died inside me that day.
I planned to make one final visit.




"Sir you used to come with ma'am. You never drank. I remember what you used to discuss here. Wait...
After all this time?" the bartender asked.
I raised the wine glass and guffawed. My bloodshot eyes went blank. I unrolled my sleeves to make the tattoo visible to him.

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