I was hardly alive as the writer inside me died.

When I first started writing, it was an escape from reality. The reality that broke me and left my pieces into unknown places. Writing made me more alive than I ever was. I kept writing. I kept going to places that I always wanted to explore. I kept meeting people I always wished were in my life. I kept telling stories I always wanted to hear. I kept creating magic that was not real but more beautiful than reality could ever be.

Every day, I sit at my desk waiting for a miracle. Nothing happens. The days pass by. I wake up every day feeling more tired than the previous day. Every day and every night mocks me for not having anything to say. I have grown ashamed of my life.

This morning is no different.

"Morning Maya", says my publisher on the phone.

"Morning Josh."

"How's the story coming?"

"I have been trying."

I am trying hard to go back to my old self. I am trying to write again, to love myself but it seems like the hardest thing to do.

I sit at my desk, look at the typewriter and start typing. Word after word; Sentence after sentence;

I know for a fact that it is not something that I'm doing. My writing process has been the same as it was during my first novel. I wonder what has changed.

I just can't write. I am not the same writer anymore. I don't feel like myself anymore.

I still try every day. I force myself to sit for hours together and write anything and everything.

I focus on my thoughts and only on my thoughts as I type them one after another on the white sheets.

Maya is too immersed in her world to realise that it started to rain.

It is not a drizzle or a mist that can be ignored. The rain is pouring so hard buying attention of every creature except her.

The window in front of her large desk is now shrouded, making the world outside blurry.

Maya is too focused to admire its beauty. She didn't move a bit nor peeked at the artistic sight. Her eyes, now tired of straining at the same place for so long ask for a break. She finally gets up from the chair and moves to the comfy sofa. No sooner did she lie down than she falls asleep.

She sleeps with her arms around herself and a frail frown on her face. The sound of raindrops falling seems to have no impression on her. She sleeps through it all.

Suddenly, the door unlocks and a man walks in through the corridor, into the living room where Maya is sleeping. She slowly opens her eyes to find her husband standing in front of her, who is wet from head to toe. She jolts her feet to stand in surprise.

Her half-open eyes meet the dark brown eyes of her husband.

"Jonah!" Maya exclaims.

"I called you a hundred times, what were you so busy doing?" He mumbled with his eyes fixed on her.

"My phone...I switched it off...I was working" She stumbled on her words as she thought through the events of the evening and stopped at his sigh, realising her mistake.

Maya looks at him with regret in her eyes and guilt in her heart.

"I had to wait in the office for hours because of the stupid rain. The one day when I forget my umbrella, there is a blow of storm." Jonah spoke to himself as he walked by her, loosening his tie and removing his blazer as he reached the bedroom.

He takes a hot shower before changing into warm clothes. He walks over to the dining table where Maya sat waiting for him. They both focus on their food not uttering a word throughout the dinner. Their eyes move no further than their respective plates.

The strange silence seems to have no influence on them. As they sit right across the table, in front of each other and not once did their eyes meet. They seem more distance than the metre seperation.

No words are heard. Only the clatter of the cutlery filled the room. Both felt the silence yet none looked for words.

Jonah is the first to finish the dinner. He picks his plate and rushes to the sink to do the dishes before leaving. He walks by her to the bedroom as she tries not to look his way. The urge gets more of her as she glances at the bedroom which is as dark as tonight.

She can't see him but she starts picturing him moving through the sheets as he cuddles himself to sleep.

Maya enters the bedroom. The only light that is still alive in the dark room is coming from the lamp on Maya's side of the bed. She didn't bother taking a look at Jonah. She knew that he probably passed out by now.

She walks to her side of the bed and curls herself in the warmth of the sheets.

Their bodies are facing the opposite directions and the only warmth they are feeling is from the thick and cozy comforter. It wasn't enough to sustain their solitude. But, it was enough to survive the night.

'Since when did we come to this. Since when did I lose my fondness for the only person I ever loved...Since when did we forget the promises and vows we made to each other. Since when did we fall out of love. Since when? Everything has an expiry. I guess it was time now for our love to end. The love that we cherished all these years. It has out gone its due date.'