Page 203 - Till the Last Breath . . .

there was a small rectangular table and two plastic chairs. On the table were

two packed dinners and a couple of bottles of mineral water on the side. A
frown appeared on her face momentarily which was creased out as Arman’s
cologne wafted into her senses again and she found herself smiling.

Finally, he put her down on the chair and sat down next to her. For a few
seconds, no one spoke. Okay, so this was strange. No candles? No lights?

No music? Bad plastic-bound food? Would her last date be like this?
‘So …’ she said, as she tried to explain herself and ask him for an

explanation too, all at the same time.
‘I know what you are thinking. Why this, right?’ he asked. One of his

eyebrows was arched as if he was about to unfurl a devious scheme.
‘Yes. I am sure you have a logical explanation. I mean, everything is
great, but no flowers? No music?’ she poked fun at him.

‘As a matter of fact, I do have a logical explanation. Imagine us together
five years down the line. What would we be doing? Maybe we will go on

dates with flowers, candles and whatever you might have thought of in your
pretty little head. But that’s not going to be our life—is it? Our life will be

this—sitting in the hospital cafeteria, eating bad food and discussing
patients. Fighting over who’s wrong and who’s right. Learning from each

other. Quarrelling. Laughing. Crying. That’s what we would be about.
Those will be the big moments of our lives. Those will be the happiest
moments of our lives. No one remembers one anniversary from the other.

Years down the line our thirteenth or fourteenth or fiftieth anniversary will
be the same to us. But we will remember those years, not those

anniversaries. Days aren’t important, years are. Years aren’t important,
experiences are. Experiences aren’t important, lives are. And this will be

our life.’
‘I get your point. But can’t we do that with flowers?’ she chortled. ‘Just

kidding. I think it’s great and I don’t think you could have put it better. And
you just said “ours”, so I am happy. But what’s all this?’ She pointed out to
the file on the table which was almost six inches thick. The papers in the

file were frayed at their ends and appeared to have been filed improperly.