" I don't like roses. The petals hurt me. "

" You mean thorns. "

" No. I mean petals. They are too bright, too slippery, too weird. " , Alvira twisted her lips as she dusted the empty vase.

" But I thought you loved weird. " , Shaahid smirked. He was sipping on something, and he did not really know what it was.

" I am weird, but I don't like weird. They are competition. " , she did not like the fact that she was smiling, so she immediately put her guard on.

" Come on Alvira, there's no harm smiling sometimes! "  , Shaahid was still figuring out the substance in the glass in his hand.

" Your advices and your assumptions are harmful to me. " , she took seat right beside him.

It was 6:30 in the morning, December 15th.
Location : Alvira's verandah.
A canopy of green, with not a single flowering plant.
Even the two wooden chairs along with the table,  were painted green.

" Can you just tell me what drink this is? " , Shaahid finally asked.

" Just an extract of your twisted brain." , she twirled the end of her light pashmina shawl around her index finger.

Shaahid laughed out loud.
There was this thing about Alvira. She never talked straight, just never. And he enjoyed how she did that everytime.

" Oh!! I taste so good, I must brag.. " , he was looking at her, but the woman, was looking at a black cat across the street, busy licking its paw.

" Last year, when you were not here, a brown cat used to regularly visit my veranda. I don't know how, she would climb up the pipes and land softly, always when I was sitting and writing you letters. She would just purr, and meaow, and growl. And I used to complain to her against you. She would listen, as if record all my complaints, and leave, as if to place them before the authorities.

She has never been here since you returned. She is probably dead, or gone, or.....she was you. "

Shaahid smiled, put down the glass on the table.
" Or maybe she has returned to the one who had been writing letters to her. "

Alvira now looked into his eyes.

Shaahid never broke the contact when she stared into him this way. It happened rarely. Mostly she avoided eye contacts with him. And with the minimal knowledge of human psychology he had, he knew she had social anxiety. And she was depressed.

But when she did lock eyes, he could only see and ocean of despair, with islands of immense love.

" Why did you come back to me Shaahid? " , for the umpteenth time, and her voice still oozed angst.

Shaahid heaved a sigh, and took a long time. She did not look away.

" I did not come back to you Alvira. I was here, all the while. You are my childhood. However far we wander, however tall we grow, we are always there. A child, in someone's memories, in albums, in old houses, in countrysides, in school playgrounds, in worn out books...
I was never gone! "

Alvira fell back on the chair, as if trying to soak in every word he said.

Shaahid knew, she would ask this again. A week from now. Or maybe just tonight.

Probably because, she did not get the answer she hoped for.

Alvira and Shaahid were tenants of the same villa in Chittagong. Shaahid was a mere 5 then. Alvira was 4 and a half. Their families stayed together. The landlady was a sixty five year old woman.
In her early years, she was an army nurse. And her husband was a Navy officer, who had died in a war, leaving her with no kids, and an enormous villa.

Coincidentally, Shaahid's father and Alvira's uncle had come in looking for a place to stay, exactly on the same day. And both of them were granted tenantship, the villa was huge with plenty of rooms. A part was even shut down because of damages.

Alvira and Shaahid grew up together, sharing a house,  a school, class notes, tiffin, pencil, flowers, television, mornings, dusks, and of course stories from Nabila Chachi, their enigmatic landlady.

She used to tell them stories of war, of death, of spirits, of black cats, of magic, of coincidences, of telepathy, of everything weird. She even taught them languages people hardly knew of. She had tried teaching them Kawishana, the rarest of the languages spoken in the world. Only Shaahid learnt it though.

Both Shaahid and Alvira were in awe of her. She invoked the urge of writing letters in Alvira. She taught Shaahid piano and how to play it for hours without a break.
However, she seeded into Shaahid something else as well. Something he himself did not realise any sooner.

Shaahid and Alvira grew up together, quite happy with the lives they were in.

They were nearly eighteen, when Alvira realised she was in love with him.
It looked so normal to her,  she was assertive that he would feel the same for her.

When she said the same to Shaahid, he was quite baffled. However all he said was,

" But, you will soon find love in someone else , someone from your college. "
Shaahid was quite embarrassed, but what awed him more was how he could make such an assumption out of the blue.

However Alvira was devastated. She was not only heartbroken, what angered her more was how he tried to push her away by making a queer assumption.

She immediately distanced herself from Shaahid.
And he too was hurt.

The first one to notice was Nabila Chachi.
One night, when Shaahid was playing mouth organ in the porch, staring at the moon, the lady came and stood beside her.

" The day Suleman died, I woke up early in the morning. You know why? A shrill bodyless voice had announced into my ears, 'His Death will bring your doom.'
That was just the beginning.
I don't know if this is a boon or a bane, but i get to know things out of the blue. Someone let's my brain know.

And the only explanation I have is, when I was your age, my Abbu had taught me and my brother, Kawishana. He couldn't learn, only I did. Since then, i have tried teaching many, none learnt.

Only you did. "

Shaahid did not know how he felt about things henceforth.
But , he knew about things.

A month from that, Alvira had found love in a senior of hers. They were doing well in each other's love, at least that's how it looked.

Shaahid was guitlfree, somewhat.

They hardly talked anymore. She returned home late. Never met his gaze even when they met.
Not that Shaahid did not care, he did, a lot. But he did not wish to interfere into her life anymore. The reason, was forever very private to him.

Also , he had queerer things to deal with.

He was having a lot of premonitions.

Some of them were quite disturbing..

He knew it exactly, the morning Nabila Chachi suffered from a heart attack. He was the first to run to her room.

However , he couldn't save her.

When the entire household was busy decorating her dead body in the courtyard, to be taken to the hillside cemetery, Alvira had walked over to him and asked him how he knew. He was dead silent.
However he could see a lot of love in her eyes, and he had walked away.
While walking down the corridor, past Nabila Chachi's room , Shaahid could hear her say,
" You can't bear the pain my child. This place will soon no longer belong to you. Bury me in the backyard.. "

And Shaahid couldn't save them either.

None of their bodies were found, when the cars carrying the dead and the living had toppled down a hill while going to the cemetery.

That included Shaahid's parents.

Alvira's family was left behind, as they had decided to stay back because of lack of space, along with Shaahid and Alvira.
If only he could decipher the message he had received.......

Soon after Shaahid was orphaned, Alvira's family wanted to adopt him, as their son-in-law.
Alvira was however adamant, claiming she loved someone else.

And however much Shaahid 'knew' things, like he knew, soon Alvira would soon ditch her lover, because he was just a rebound to her, and would drown into a hellhole of depression,  he no longer even wanted to save her, like he could save no one till date.

The morning Shaahid left Chittagong finally,
Alvira stood at his doorstep.

" I just have one question before you leave.

If I get sadder by the day, and if you choose to return, will it be for me? "

" If you get sadder by the day, and if I choose to return, it will be for me. "

And Shaahid had not looked back.

---

" Won't you ever love me like I did, Shaahid? Even after all this while? "

It was raining. A heavy downpour.

Shaahid got up, and leaned against the railing.

" I am gifted Alvira. I know what comes next. Somehow, someone let's me know.

I had told you, if I ever return to Chittagong, it will be for me. And hence I am here.

No, I will never love you like you had loved me Alvira.

Because love for me, is celestial.
Of all the definitions of love I have learnt, none satisfied the definition of forever. None satisfied the definition of unconditional.

All of you, including my parents, their love for me could not defeat the future. None of your love had the power to undo what was coming. Leave alone love for me, all of you, are searching for validation, comfort, attention, money.

Love? What's that?

My parents had run along with Nabila Chachi's corpse, only so they could tread the villa with her sister who had appeared suddenly upon her death, on the way to the cemetery.
The universe and it's conspiracy theories knew, they had no love for Nabila Chachi.

You had loved me, of course, but it was guarded by your ego, your need for validation. Not once did you ask me why I had out of the blue said you would soon love someone else. Instead, you did that. The universe had conspired again to let me know, Love is invaluable. But it's true variant is rare.

You might say, I'm back to Chittagong, to save myself from Love again, the definition of which, will never fit into my dictionary. I could have easily gone somewhere else.

But, I have loved you. Always.

However, I 'know' things.

And I know, a storm will soon blow us apart.

All I would like to see,

Is how, each one of you, define your Love for Shaahid Hussain, in the final chapter.

It's all about me. "

A thunder broke right next to her veranda, making Alvira shiver.

_______

What did I just write? And why? I don't even know if this has got any continuity with the story except for the names of the characters. Blehh.

Bonus? Or the beginning of something else?
God save me.