He left without a warning like all good things in her life did.

She kept his photo inside her diary, the only one who knew that they were more than what the world saw them to be, assumed them to be.

She had yet another day ahead of her to survive without him, the 712th day without him.

The hands that longed to feel the warmth of his hands collected the hair that yearned for his fingers to run through them and collected it into a pony.

She applied some eyeliner on the lids of the eyes that has his reflection in it even after he was long gone.

She painted the lips that wished to move in sync with his name, that wished to feel ticklish whenever the 'm' in his name was pronounced.

'Mohan' she whispered but there was nothing ticklish about it. There was only a throbbing feel in her heart, a numbness. The pleasure of letting his name roll through her tongue was dead like him.

She bit the inside of her cheeks but that did not prevent her tears. She had been biting the inside of her cheeks for the previous two years , she had been crying for the previous two years.

She banged her hands on the dressing table and let a small scream escape her quivering lips. She blinked as more tears forced their way into the world.

Breathing heavily, she bit her lips. She was breaking down again.

She thought that everything was under control on the previous night but his death anniversary proved her wrong.

It was not over. Not a day passed by without his secret smiles and winks clouding her mind. Not a day passed by without his words echoing throughout her empty heart. Not a day passed by without her sinfully wishing for her death.

But she was strong to survive for the past two years, she will remain strong.

She wiped her tears and sank her face in her hands.

Breath in...

Breath out...

Breath in...

Breath out...

'You are strong Aswini, smile , smile , smile'

Her lips managed to pierce through her cheeks as everything inside her kept bleeding . She managed to... smile.

She washed her face and redid her make up. She was ready to live another day.

She left her house and took frantic painful steps towards him.

She was late.

His grave was surrounded by the members of his family and political party. They had  the freedom to moan from there as long as they wished, after all none of them were the leader of a political party , the members of which proudly claimed his death to be their decision.

She hid behind a tree nearby, many feets away from him. Near or far , the pain never seemed to cease.

Not a day , an hour or second passed by without the cords of her heart entangling further around his name.

She fell on to her knees.

'Mohan' she wept and wept , all to herself.