NYAC | 2min Read
Published on May 7, 2026
We Will Still Wed, If You Ever Decide to Come Back
We Will Still Wed, If You Ever Decide to Come Back
I cry as I write this, still mourning a future that was never even fully proofed. W e never really
wanted the picket fences and a big suburban villa though. Y ou had your ambitions, and I had
mine. There was a gap in my dream which was supposed to get filled with my college plans. But
you already had yours sorted, and you impressed my mother with it.
Already at fourteen— you were ready to build a house brick by brick for us.
I was scared of talking about children, but I told you that I wanted to adopt. However now, my
maternal instincts are stronger than ever, and I imagine how it could have been if I told you about
the chokehold that babies have on me now. I imagine my children having your eyes, because that
always will be something I’ll only ever want with you.
I wish I had told you about all of it.
I wouldn
‘t mind moving to a country that isn’t as urban as the cities we
’re used to. I could see you
trying to dig soil for me to sow the fruit’
s leftover seeds in, dirt getting stuck under your finger
nails. And then you
’d wash your hands thrice, last time without the soap. A small routine that
you
’d built over time after either gardening or peeling garlic. Y ou
’d make sure my morning coffee
would be exactly catered to my preference, and you
’d keep aside some of your t-shirts for me to
wear every night. I’d learn the way you
’d chant my name, sometimes out of rapture, other times
out of despair. And I’d finally let you understand the depth of the vortex of my emotions.
I’d pick out your outfit for any and all occasions and you
’d zip up my dress, or fasten the clasp of
my necklace. Y ou
‘d struggle with barre chords on the guitar, and I’d laugh, refusing to admit that
there was a time when I was in your place. I’d insist on our children getting your smile but secretly
you
’d tell our parents how they look exactly like me.
Some day, that will happen. I know.
