“Guitar, seriously?” he raised his eyebrows. “Is there anything you don’t have in this house?”

“You don’t know how much trouble I had bringing this,” I muttered under my breath.

“What!”

“Nothing, you just play something and I’ll listen. I wish I could learn to play but it’s impossible for me to pull the strings,” I lifted up my naked, chapped fingers.

He grasped my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger and then letting it go.

Looking into my eyes he whispered, “Your hands can do wonders, never underestimate yourself.”

“Come on my romantic prince, you’ll teach me someday,” I teased. “For now, play something.”

“Fine,” he adjusted the guitar on his knees, posing gallantly like a guitarist on stage.

“How much do you know about music? Scales, notes, bass, timbre…”

“Will you stop tutoring me and play?” I cut him off with an angry look, folding my arms for emphasis.

He grinned and struck the strings, starting with Dm and making his way swiftly through A and A7 as the cycle continued.
The way his eyes closed in concentration and the crease appeared between his brows, I couldn’t help gaze admiringly at him.

Who was this man who had come like a storm into my life and caused a turmoil of emotions in which I had lost myself? Why did I feel so different? I had always vowed that I would never get attached to another person in my life.

All my vows were failing. The way he looked at me, the way blood rushed to my cheeks at one brush of his hands.

As he played, I couldn’t help admire how his dark hair fell untidily on his forehead, or how his eyes trailed far away when he drowned in one particular part.

He corrected himself whenever he missed the right note and it made me realise how meticulous and diligently he worked.

No matter he was a shy child, no matter he was an aggressive teenager, when I saw him there, I could only see a passionate man, full of zest and full of life.

He had, with his caresses brought the magic into me and the withering tree of my life seemed to bloom in his glorious presence.

Since I had him in my life, I had almost forgotten about my tears and dark thoughts of death.

They did creep up to me some days at night, making me think that everything was fruitless and then I think of him and I know that my life has a purpose and a meaning. I no longer felt angry, frustrated or lost because somewhere my heart I assured myself that he was there for me, always.

“What song am I playing?”

“Huh!”

My reverie was broken and I stared blankly at the sudden question

He abruptly stopped playing and looked at me questioningly.
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I tried to brighten up, “Just some random thoughts.”

“So lost in my music?” he joked.

“Yes,” I simpered, “What were you asking?”

“First tell me if you’re all right. You seemed to be lost.”

“I was visualizing my life and how it has changed with having you in it.”

“Believe me,” he looked straight at me, those liquid chocolate eyes trying to communicate with my soul, “You don’t know the change you’ve brought in my life.”

We sat still for a moment, our gazes locked. It was he who broke free as he shook his hair and repositioned the guitar.

“Okay, identify the song.”
There was an unspoken challenge in his tone.

“Hey Mister, I’m a diehard fan of old and new music. It’s difficult to outwit me in it,” I retorted.

He gave me one of those sunny smiles and resumed his play.
I listened intently and then picked up the tune.

“Sway by Michael Bauble, one of my favourites,” I said, “But how did you know?”

“Silly, you have it as your ringtone,” his eyebrows danced again.

I moved my lips to the lyrics of the song.

“When marimba rhythm starts to play,
Dance with me, make me sway.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore,
Hold me close, sway me more.”