“It’s quiet in here.” I accost glancing around the place.

She looks at me in revulsion. “It’s a library,” and nods her head contentiously.

I force a smile of discomfort  and shrug. She occupies herself into the book she has been reading all along.

“What book are you reading?” I interrupt intending to get her attention on me.

She lifts the book up so that the title is shoved in my face.

“Men are from Mars, women are from Venus.” I blurt the title aloud and grin impulsively, “For the facts, the man who wrote the book was himself divorced and married, twice.” I mock with my two fingers wriggling.

She slams the book closed and looks at me in resentment.

“What do you want me to do?” I shrug again.

“Shutting up may be a good start.” She leaves her seat and starts fishing for a different book.

“Look, I said I am sorry. It wasn’t a big…”

“I thought you were going to shut up,” she cuts me off.

“Ok. If that is what you want.” I plant my hands in each pocket and sigh. She continues with her search, completely ignoring me, as if I do not exist in the room.

I stay close on her heals, trying to get her attention by moving around her. She relents. Few minutes pass by and I begin to feel twitchy.

Ignoring is the worst thing you can do to meit literally kills me. I think in my mind but refuse to convey to her. May be because I know I deserved it.

Another minute has passed by and my restiveness has reached its zenith. I leaf through the numerous books lined up neatly on a shelf labelled fiction.

She is still busy when I walk up to her with a book in hand. Tapping her lightly on the shoulder, I run my finger across the title of the book. P.S. I Love You.

She nods in denial, pulls out a VCD from the movies section and thrusts it in my hands. Liar Liar.

I scroll through a few more books and point out at one in the corner. Trust Me.

She denies again and pulls out the same book. She turns the book to the back cover and underlines a sentence from the book summary with her finger. All Men are bastards.

She slams the book in my hand and moves on leaving me quizzical.

I make another move with two books, one in each hand. I hold one up in the air while she reads the title. I’ll Take You There.

She looks back at me with a questioned look. I bring forth the second book in my left hand for her to read. Five Days in Paris.

She heads for a shelf and comes back with one in her hand. She raises an eyebrow and the book simultaneously. Be Careful What You Wish For.

I hold her hand signifying a promise. She looks away, still not satisfied by my apologies.

I step back holding a finger in air beseeching her to wait for me. Up and down the library, I run for a couple of minutes. I return to the table where she is standing and plead her to close her eyes. She obeys.

I place the several books I have been hugging around on the table and begin to arrange them.

I hold her hand and get down on my knees. She opens her eyes; I direct her glance to the arranged books on the table.

It happened one Autumn.

On the Night of the Seventh Moon.

A Smooth Talking Stranger.

A Beautiful Mind.

Perfect.

It Had to be You.

Where Dreams Begin.

From This Day.

Love Story.

Nobody’s Baby But Mine.

Once and Always.

Dreaming of you.

I am Ok, You are Ok. 

Everything is illuminated.

One Hundred Years of solitude.

For Better, For Worse, Forever.

Till Death do us apart.

I make an innocent face, urging for her forgiveness. She breaks into a cherubic smile for the first time. Her smile makes me smile. She pulls me up close to her.

I pass her the final book I have been hiding behind me. Say You Love Me.

“I love you,” she breaks the silence and rests her head on my chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggest.

“That would be a good start.”

We begin to step out when the librarian shouts pointing at the dozen books on the table, “Oye! Are you going to buy those? Where do you think you are going?”

I direct him to a book on the top selling shelf. A Walk to Remember.

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