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Description
Disclaimer: This is purely fictional.

Anita woke up to the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the wooden desk. It announced a text message from an unknown number. 'Come home soon. I'm waiting for you, sweetheart,' the text said. She instantly found herself smiling and felt embarrassed the next moment when from the corner of her eye she noticed her best friend, Mariah, smirking at her.
"I suppose it's Danish, right?" Mariah said with the I-know-it-all-smirk intact on her face.
"Yeah," Anita answered hesitantly. "But I wonder why he texted me from this number. It's not his."
"How do you know? Perhaps he changed his cell phone number," Mariah said. "What are you thinking? He must be waiting for you."
"Yes, I must get going. See you later." Anita gathered her books and psychology assignment sheets.
"Listen, before you go, make sure you wash your face. Your mascara is totally ruined and you look like a zombie! Danish may get the biggest fright of his life," Mariah said and giggled at her own comment.
"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder, Ms. Mariah D' Souza," Anita answered, smiling sarcastically at her best friend, and made her way out of the university library which was rather a place of siesta for the students of the evening batch. She fixed her make-up in the washroom which was already occupied by prattling girls who, like her, were either 'getting ready' to meet their respective boyfriends or bunking classes.
"I heard that you successfully seduced Danish. Is that right?" Kamya said as she brushed her hair, standing next to Anita.
"No, you have got that wrong," Anita snapped. "In fact, wasn't it you who tried to seduce him in the first place? And I guess, you still haven't given up on that."
"That's a misconception you are holding on. Do you think Danish is the only guy I can ever get in my life? I sincerely advise you that you hold onto him because you got him by a mere stroke of luck and I doubt if you'll ever get another guy if he dumps you by chance. Just saying for your betterment."
"Why are you so concerned about me? If he dumps me, it's my problem. You better keep an eye on Adiraj. I saw him walking with a girl, hand-in-hand, the other day, and not-so-surprisingly they looked good together. Just saying for your betterment." Anita walked out of the washroom; feeling satisfied for beating Kamya, her worst rival ever.
By the time Anita reached her place, it was 8:30 PM. She looked around for Danish but couldn't find him anywhere.
"Did he get frustrated and left?" Anita asked herself.
She went inside, switched ON the stereo, and made herself comfortable on her favourite velvet couch, letting her head rest on the back of the couch with her eyes closed. That's what she did after her boring evening classes and tiresome journey on bus from her university to her home. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata flowing out of the stereo's speakers made her feel tranquilized but at the same time, somewhere deep down her heart, she felt a pinch of disappointment whose ultimate reason was Danish. She considered giving him a call but for some reason she actually didn't want to because she couldn't help thinking of him. It was strange how she tended to think of him more often that day. She clearly remembered that she saw a glimpse of him in her dream during her short nap in the university library back then; and earlier that day in the morning, she experienced a sense of déjà vu when a couple passed by her, and the guy took off his headphones and put them on around the girl's head even though he never had been that sweet to her. She was caught by a sudden surprise as a tear or two unexpectedly fell down her eyes.
"Silly me," she whispered to herself.

Just then a rattling sound startled Anita. Her eyes scanned the dark dining hall as she felt someone's presence there. Light entered the room only from the window uncovered by curtains opposite to the television set. The air was suddenly filled with a very familiar scent— the scent of cologne which made her feel nostalgic and terrified at the same time. Perhaps she was imagining things but she could clearly feel and hear someone's warm, heavy breathing on her neck. And then something cold touched her arm for a fraction of a second. Her heart nearly skipped a beat. She turned around. There was no one except her. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata which had always made her feel at peace now made her feel…horrified as it began to play from the scratch even though she clearly remembered that she had not set it on repeat mode. The dense scent of cologne infiltrated a sense of nausea into her. She knew that something wrong was going on there and she might had to face someone or something she didn't wish to if she stayed in the hall anymore. She picked up her cell phone lying on the tea table. It beeped. There was a text message from the same unknown number from which she received a text in the evening. 'I am close to you, baby,' the text read. This was not Danish. He was not the kind of person who would play such childish pranks on his girlfriend. Either an obsessive stalker was desperate to seek her attention—she had quite a few stalkers ever since she started living in this city—or it was…
She ran upstairs to her room and bolted the door. She thought she would be safe there, but she didn't expect to see him standing at a distance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. He fished dry, withered rose petals from the breast pocket of his wrinkled white shirt. A gust of wind accompanied by dusts entered the room from the opened window. He loosened the grip of his fingers and let the petals fly. Some flew away outside the window with the wind and a few scattered on the floor. This was too unbelievable to be believed. Anita was speechless.
"Petals of white roses," he uttered. His voice sounded the same as it used to—masculine yet placid—but there was a pinch of melancholy in it. "You love them, don't you? White roses. They are indeed beautiful; much more than the red ones."
"Why are you here?" Anita whispered. She doubted if he heard her.
"Yes. I should be resting in peace in a place zillion miles away from here, right? But I was terribly missing you, babe, and that's what brought me here. I thought it would cause no harm to anyone if I go and see you." He smiled which sent a chill down her spine.
"Please go away. We are over. I want to forget you and move on. If I keep thinking about you, I feel as if I am cheating on Danish. You are dead. This is not your place and I or anyone belonging here is not supposed to meet you," Anita yelled and then broke into tears. She fell down on her knees and covered her face. She felt his gentle hand on her head and his fingers ran down through her long, straight hair. He gently embraced her. She wanted to resist but a sudden numbness spread throughout her body. He kissed her on the lips. Before she could move or utter a word, he was gone. The petals lay on the floor—scattered around the room by the cold breeze coming in through the window.

It felt too realistic for Anita to call it a hallucination. She could still feel his cold lips on her. She didn't know how long she sat still there on the f
loor, trying to register whatever happened a minute ago. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata perpetually played downstairs. The cell phone's sudden vibration on the floor startled and brought her back to the world. There was a call from the same number but now she knew that it was no one but him. She picked up the call reluctantly.
"Goodbye, love," he said on the other side. She wanted to tell him something she couldn't say at the time of their brief encounter but he ended the call. She wanted to tell him, "I love you."
She broke into tears again and then it struck her that it was exactly a year since that day. Visions of bloodied steer wheel, shattered glasses and him lying on the road in the midst of the dark cold night of December whirled before her eyes. Things hardly changed since that day. If anything had changed then it was she, herself because she lost her white rose.

He never called again, but Anita knew that he was always there around her—somewhere in the pacifying tune of Moonlight Sonata; somewhere in her heart.

Description
Disclaimer: This is purely fictional.

Anita woke up to the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the wooden desk. It announced a text message from an unknown number. 'Come home soon. I'm waiting for you, sweetheart,' the text said. She instantly found herself smiling and felt embarrassed the next moment when from the corner of her eye she noticed her best friend, Mariah, smirking at her.
"I suppose it's Danish, right?" Mariah said with the I-know-it-all-smirk intact on her face.
"Yeah," Anita answered hesitantly. "But I wonder why he texted me from this number. It's not his."
"How do you know? Perhaps he changed his cell phone number," Mariah said. "What are you thinking? He must be waiting for you."
"Yes, I must get going. See you later." Anita gathered her books and psychology assignment sheets.
"Listen, before you go, make sure you wash your face. Your mascara is totally ruined and you look like a zombie! Danish may get the biggest fright of his life," Mariah said and giggled at her own comment.
"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder, Ms. Mariah D' Souza," Anita answered, smiling sarcastically at her best friend, and made her way out of the university library which was rather a place of siesta for the students of the evening batch. She fixed her make-up in the washroom which was already occupied by prattling girls who, like her, were either 'getting ready' to meet their respective boyfriends or bunking classes.
"I heard that you successfully seduced Danish. Is that right?" Kamya said as she brushed her hair, standing next to Anita.
"No, you have got that wrong," Anita snapped. "In fact, wasn't it you who tried to seduce him in the first place? And I guess, you still haven't given up on that."
"That's a misconception you are holding on. Do you think Danish is the only guy I can ever get in my life? I sincerely advise you that you hold onto him because you got him by a mere stroke of luck and I doubt if you'll ever get another guy if he dumps you by chance. Just saying for your betterment."
"Why are you so concerned about me? If he dumps me, it's my problem. You better keep an eye on Adiraj. I saw him walking with a girl, hand-in-hand, the other day, and not-so-surprisingly they looked good together. Just saying for your betterment." Anita walked out of the washroom; feeling satisfied for beating Kamya, her worst rival ever.
By the time Anita reached her place, it was 8:30 PM. She looked around for Danish but couldn't find him anywhere.
"Did he get frustrated and left?" Anita asked herself.
She went inside, switched ON the stereo, and made herself comfortable on her favourite velvet couch, letting her head rest on the back of the couch with her eyes closed. That's what she did after her boring evening classes and tiresome journey on bus from her university to her home. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata flowing out of the stereo's speakers made her feel tranquilized but at the same time, somewhere deep down her heart, she felt a pinch of disappointment whose ultimate reason was Danish. She considered giving him a call but for some reason she actually didn't want to because she couldn't help thinking of him. It was strange how she tended to think of him more often that day. She clearly remembered that she saw a glimpse of him in her dream during her short nap in the university library back then; and earlier that day in the morning, she experienced a sense of déjà vu when a couple passed by her, and the guy took off his headphones and put them on around the girl's head even though he never had been that sweet to her. She was caught by a sudden surprise as a tear or two unexpectedly fell down her eyes.
"Silly me," she whispered to herself.

Just then a rattling sound startled Anita. Her eyes scanned the dark dining hall as she felt someone's presence there. Light entered the room only from the window uncovered by curtains opposite to the television set. The air was suddenly filled with a very familiar scent— the scent of cologne which made her feel nostalgic and terrified at the same time. Perhaps she was imagining things but she could clearly feel and hear someone's warm, heavy breathing on her neck. And then something cold touched her arm for a fraction of a second. Her heart nearly skipped a beat. She turned around. There was no one except her. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata which had always made her feel at peace now made her feel…horrified as it began to play from the scratch even though she clearly remembered that she had not set it on repeat mode. The dense scent of cologne infiltrated a sense of nausea into her. She knew that something wrong was going on there and she might had to face someone or something she didn't wish to if she stayed in the hall anymore. She picked up her cell phone lying on the tea table. It beeped. There was a text message from the same unknown number from which she received a text in the evening. 'I am close to you, baby,' the text read. This was not Danish. He was not the kind of person who would play such childish pranks on his girlfriend. Either an obsessive stalker was desperate to seek her attention—she had quite a few stalkers ever since she started living in this city—or it was…
She ran upstairs to her room and bolted the door. She thought she would be safe there, but she didn't expect to see him standing at a distance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. He fished dry, withered rose petals from the breast pocket of his wrinkled white shirt. A gust of wind accompanied by dusts entered the room from the opened window. He loosened the grip of his fingers and let the petals fly. Some flew away outside the window with the wind and a few scattered on the floor. This was too unbelievable to be believed. Anita was speechless.
"Petals of white roses," he uttered. His voice sounded the same as it used to—masculine yet placid—but there was a pinch of melancholy in it. "You love them, don't you? White roses. They are indeed beautiful; much more than the red ones."
"Why are you here?" Anita whispered. She doubted if he heard her.
"Yes. I should be resting in peace in a place zillion miles away from here, right? But I was terribly missing you, babe, and that's what brought me here. I thought it would cause no harm to anyone if I go and see you." He smiled which sent a chill down her spine.
"Please go away. We are over. I want to forget you and move on. If I keep thinking about you, I feel as if I am cheating on Danish. You are dead. This is not your place and I or anyone belonging here is not supposed to meet you," Anita yelled and then broke into tears. She fell down on her knees and covered her face. She felt his gentle hand on her head and his fingers ran down through her long, straight hair. He gently embraced her. She wanted to resist but a sudden numbness spread throughout her body. He kissed her on the lips. Before she could move or utter a word, he was gone. The petals lay on the floor—scattered around the room by the cold breeze coming in through the window.

It felt too realistic for Anita to call it a hallucination. She could still feel his cold lips on her. She didn't know how long she sat still there on the f
loor, trying to register whatever happened a minute ago. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata perpetually played downstairs. The cell phone's sudden vibration on the floor startled and brought her back to the world. There was a call from the same number but now she knew that it was no one but him. She picked up the call reluctantly.
"Goodbye, love," he said on the other side. She wanted to tell him something she couldn't say at the time of their brief encounter but he ended the call. She wanted to tell him, "I love you."
She broke into tears again and then it struck her that it was exactly a year since that day. Visions of bloodied steer wheel, shattered glasses and him lying on the road in the midst of the dark cold night of December whirled before her eyes. Things hardly changed since that day. If anything had changed then it was she, herself because she lost her white rose.

He never called again, but Anita knew that he was always there around her—somewhere in the pacifying tune of Moonlight Sonata; somewhere in her heart.