By Firdaus Parvez
Raju was fifteen, and in love with Jennifer madam. She had come to help her mother run the orphanage.
He knew she liked him too. He remembered how she had held his hand and cried when five year old Pinky had died of typhoid.
Now, clutching a white rose, oiled hair slicked back and wearing his best shirt, Raju entered her office.
He saw her and smiled.
Then, he saw the young man standing beside her desk.
“This is my husband, Steve.” she explained.
Raju felt the sting of tears. Damn! There was a thorn on the stem and it hurt!
Good writting keep it up i am sure you can write all the best. Like your story
Aww thankyou! I’m so glad you liked it!
Ah! The ecstasy of first love and the sting of rejection. You have tread beautifully through your tale, nodding at reminiscence.
Wonderfully written baji 🙂
Lovely, sweet story about youth, love and loss. Beautifully written Firdaus.
Thankyou Phynne, Danish and Rebecca for your lovely comments. I’m so glad you liked it. (Sorry I’m having trouble replying you individually.)
Beautifully inked and quite relatable. God job.
*Good.
Thankyou bunmioke. I’m glad you liked it.