Passion Masquerade

It was a week before Eid. She opened a box containing an item which she kept hidden in the drawer for so long. It was intended to replace the worthless souvenir previously sent which she took on board when she joined a trip to the neighbouring state, but it turned out to be flabby and loose for his size and that she took a new effort to get a fresh one for a spare. However she kept delaying sending it, as she was conscious he was giving the impression that he took no more interest in her.
Be that as it may,  she stubbornly decided to courier the package as an Eid gift, because after all it was meant for him in the first place. No accompanying messages, nor notes or whatsoever, only 'Jane Doe’ written on the courier form as the sender as she was too afraid to say anything anymore. It was supposedly reached him on the eve of the big day. Then she came across his status on the social media, declaring that he was not available for seven consecutive days and would not be rejoicing Eid at home. Reading-through a few remarks on his wall, she discovered that he had journeyed to another state, Haryana, for his an interview. It was not a maiden's name as she thought at first, it was referred to a place.  After much thought, she dared herself and threw him a note informing him of the bundle she posted. She sensed his cold, unfriendly manner, saying that he was not in the condition of checking mails. 
She was deeply upset and agitated by the reply. There was no warmth in him as if he wished to be left alone and didn’t need to have any more links with her and that she felt she was trespassing his privacy. She was in the wrong, so she took it as a hint which she deserved and that she should have long learnt her lessons. She should stop being clingy and she spoke no more after that. A fortnight passed by, the gift was left untraceable and unappreciated.

One afternoon, she was troubled by a news. An upheavel erupted in his valley. His people's combative hero was shot dead in a retaliation with the Army forces. She still never gave up hope and constantly glancing ridiculously at  her phone screen expecting some news from him. Weeks passed and she was restless. She could no longer tolerate the unsureness. Once more she faced herself to just ignore her ego, her self respect.  She had to call him up when all her messages were left unattended. Her first attempt was unsuccessful. She tried the second time and there was someone over the line. It was him. She was so relief. Hearing his voice after such a long silence was something inexpressible. The few seconds on the line was just enough to make her a day. The connection was weak and that she had a hard time to comprehend his thick accent but she knew he was with his family. Safe and sound. 

'I love you…’ she uttered shakily, before she ended the call and she overheard him echoed at the end of the line, ‘ I love you, too’. Those were beautiful words spoken spontaneously but that had not made her feel contented totally.  It was no better than a masquerade, a passion in desperation, yet it was just enough to ease the bleeds of her wounds.