The queue of reception lights kissed the winter evening with their choreographed dreamy symmetry. The catering service had begun serving the starters and the early invitees were enjoying the freshly fried snacks. It was the reception of one of the most awaited wedding of the batch. Over the last ten years, they had become from mere medical students to specialists in neurology and psychiatry. Their honeymoon was scheduled for a month after the reception, for they were more inclined to begin the next day inaugurating their new chamber. Against all opposition from Arundhati, Kuber insisted. "Think Aruni, this way we would at least get to travel together." The reception was a hit. Each of the guests genuinely blessed the love-bird couple. They looked glamorous in their classy wear, and with greetings from old friends, they went back to memories of infatuation, letters, relationship woes, relationship highs, some tears, more laughs and an ease that held them together in a coupledom of celebration.
Though they had spent most hostel nights together, tonight was special. It was special in its tender monotony. It was special in its celebratory bonding. It was special in an intoxication of heightened senses of responsibilities.Until they clinked their champagne glasses.
Kuber could immediately understand his nerves clinching him like nightmares and becoming unresponsive. In his last breath he could only stare at Arundhati, who could not understand the psyche which led her to do it. Seeing his death, her psychiatric rationale impressioned upon her 'madness'. Before she could think of her next step, realize an underlying competition, feel the suffocation of extreme gratitude, she took a sip from his glass.
The next morning, no body could comprehend the deaths of the newly wed doctors.
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