When Forgiveness met Anger – a short story

Standing on the pavement, waiting. Waiting was heart wrenching, yes. She had gone somewhere. It could be anywhere. Of course, she couldn’t have gone too far, but searching for her was not the answer just yet. She knew the way back, and if she came, she came. Perhaps the fault lay with the man who caused her to flee, the one who had been much to harsh, too rude. But as he stood at the pavement, he reflected on the event.

As her eyes had filled with bitter tears, she scowled and exited. Departed, left.. call it what you please, but the way she had left was heart wrenching. Painful. He wanted to calm her down and tell her that he would do anything to win back her favour. His love for her was never-ending.

He paused. Searching for a lacuna in her argument. There didn’t seem to be one. He was unreasonable. He worried for her safety. She was alone, out there in the world. He repeatedly told himself not to worry. “She will be safe.”

Her return was not immediate. She did not stop abruptly halfway, and run back to him. She needed time to go over their fight, and he respected that. She did not leave with a bus ticket in hand, and so he was sure that she was simply trying to fit a bit of peace into her hectic day. He himself would not have stayed and argued.

The mind heats up when it gets angry. It hurts. It makes you want to burst into flames. Anger may drive you, energise you and fire you up, but it makes your vision blurry. It prevents you from seeing truth so that you can maintain your anger. Anger feeds anger. Unless one can find an escape route, the hate would never end. If she had stayed and fought, then it would have been worse. So he did not see it as an act of cowardice, but a lionhearted act of bravery. The strength to overcome what had taken over of you and understand it, face to face.

He too had thought over it.

And so he waited. Untroubled, not prominent enough for a person to check what was wrong. To all observers, he was a regular pedestrian, standing with his hands in the pocket of his jeans, and scanning the surroundings. His feet made a tapping rhythm as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The birds sang cheerful trill, which gave him a sense of hope. That all could be better again.

A figure appeared in the midst of the street chaos. She walked with a hood over her head, from which tangled brown hair spilled out. Her brilliant blue eyes, once puffy and sad, showed peace and forgiveness. His eyes followed hers until they stood face to face.

“I’m sorry,” they said together.

There she was, smiling through her troubles. Traces of tears were hidden by her expression. She breathed loudly and wrapped her arms around him She felt warm but scared. Her hands shivered slightly. But he was so glad she was back. So glad that she doesn’t hate him. Holding her in his arms, comforting her, and savouring the return of his beautiful little granddaughter.

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