He sighed at his thoughts. But he couldn’t know what she was thinking. He couldn’t. What he thought was a flower blooming wider, she thought a flower falling apart. The wind that carried her fragrance to him only made her skin cold. The silence he was smiling at seemed such a desolate place to her. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t.
He was thinking how lovely a time it was, while she was crying inside. He was living a lie.
He thought they were in love. She knew the love was dying.
And even as she rested her head on his shoulder and led on the very ideas she knew were painful, she wondered how she would break it to him. He had to know and he had to know today. But how?
Suddenly she got up and ran towards the flower tree ahead. Plush with the wave of purple blossoms, the gallant tree was his solace and her nightmare. Angrily, she tore free a vivid flower from a low branch and held it for a moment in her hands. Then, with an air of decision, she returned to his side, to answer his surprised face. He could see she was breathing heavy.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
He took her hand in his but she pulled it back. She sighed.
“What do you see? What is in my hands?” She opened her grasp a little and allowed the flower some leverage.
“Why, it’s a flower from that tree. A beautiful bloom, just like-”
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she recoiled. He broke off, disturbed.
“Beautiful? Do you really think it’s beautiful? Can’t you see it’s falling apart? Can’t you see it’s lost its motive and it can barely keep on? It’s sick, dying.It is just waiting to glide off one day. And everything that passes by only makes it want to die faster.”
He swallowed hard and looked away. Then turning to look into her eyes, her averted eyes, he said, “Like Cancer?”
She looked up, searching his eyes for explanation. Bursting into tears, she buried her head in his lap and cried noiselessly. He stroked her hair, and let his own tears fall.