It’s been a month since December 2017, she is missing from my life and everyone’s memory. Now, not only I miss her but also have begun to suspect her since no clue could be traced down to her presence. Where are you my girl Kiyara? My love, my life, I miss you so much sweetheart.
My incapability to figure out what went wrong left me mentally exhausted, and this, in turn, led to the beginning of mental trauma.
22nd of January was our anniversary, but still, I have not heard a word from her. Last year, same day, she wished me a “Happy good-night-versary, Lihaar”. That night my mom had prepared the cake and invited her to dinner. She was wearing a red and black suit and also a silver lens. She was looking like an angel. As she entered, it suddenly felt like I was in a movie, everything was quiet but I could hear her footsteps slowly approaching towards me. I wished to take her in my arms, protect her from everything which can take that smile away from her face even for a second. After having dinner, we left for a drive (and here, by we I mean Kiyara and me). While driving, she made me stop the car in front of a Christian graveyard. “Kiyara, here, I mean, at night and it seems so scary”, I said. Ignoring my words she got down from the car and gave me the 6th gift. And again it was an antique vase! “Oh! Kiyara, antique again”, I said while giggling.
And thinking about this I got down from the bed and resumed my daily routine, while getting ready I accidentally hit the same vase she gifted me on our last anniversary. It rolled down the floor and I notice some disturbing patterns on it. After observing keenly I figured out it was the letter “D”. Without wasting a second I searched every gift and yes every gift was carved and, all I could assemble was “GRVYRD”. Without thinking much, I pulled my car and drove it straight to the “GRAVEYARD”. As soon as I reached there I noticed a grave under the Jasmine tree (which she loved a lot) and rushed towards it.
My throat started choking and my legs started shivering, my steps became heavy and so did my breathing because the tombstone on that grave had “Kiyara Jones; January 1891 – December 1917” engraved on it.
After watching it, I couldn’t pace myself as I went numb. How can she be dead a century before she went missing?
And again it was back to square one, what is a lie; my life or my memory?
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