I sat at the airport looking at my watch. At 0245 hours on that cold winter night. I stood there waiting for his flight to land.
As I walked up and down, waiting for that voice to tell me that the flight had landed, I anticipated his possible reactions on seeing me. The only thing that kept me going was that sooner or later, he would smile, look at me and say, “Promise me, you would never fight with me again.” And embrace me in the warmth that kept me alive.
The flight landed. He walked out only to be greeted by someone else. He seemed happy and content.
Damn, I thought. It had only been two months.