The Touch of Lips

The evening had been polished by the falling rain, casting a soft glow over the city. The café, which Irfan passed by daily, was unusually crowded today. Sitting in a corner near the door, he watched the steam rise from his coffee cup. Every sip carried a memory—one that had stolen the fragrance from his life.

This story goes back to his university days. A poetry evening had been held, where eyes that understood his verses had first shown him the meaning of life. That girl, Zara, clapped gently, smiling at each of his lines. That one look they shared settled deep in his heart.

They grew closer—poetry, tea, and dreams binding them together. One day, in a quiet moment, Zara asked him,
"Have you ever thought... what if all this ends?"
Irfan had smiled, “Then we will live on in poetry.”

Perhaps Zara had already sensed the storm. Months later, she disappeared—no message, no explanation. Irfan searched the city like a madman, but Zara had vanished like the last line of an unfinished poem.

Time passed. Irfan became a celebrated poet, but the emptiness remained. Every poem, every verse still carried the scent of Zara. He often questioned if her touch had just been a dream—but then he would remember that single kiss, when her lips met his—one fleeting moment that held the warmth of centuries.

> "Once her lips had met with mine,
All my life, I ran my tongue across them in search of her."



That verse had become the truth of his soul.

Then one day, fate seemed to show mercy. The same café. The same table. And Zara—like she had never left. Nothing had changed, except the eyes, which now held years of untold stories.

"Why didn’t you come back?" Irfan asked.

Zara took a deep breath. "I was diagnosed with cancer, Irfan. I couldn’t bear to pull you into a battle between life and death."

"You took away my right to be by your side, Zara. You were the only truth in my life."

Tears welled up in Zara’s eyes. "Your memories were my medicine. I read your poems every day, listened to your voice. You were never really far away."

Irfan fell silent. The wounds were old, but the balm was new. Time had given him pain, but perhaps it was time to offer healing too.

Zara gently took Irfan’s hand. "If my touch still lives on your lips, maybe we can live again."

Irfan nodded. Pain, love, and reunion—all sealed in a single touch.


---

Epilogue:

Sometimes, one moment lays the foundation for an entire lifetime. The love story of Irfan and Zara was born of such a moment—a kiss that quenched a thirst of years and left behind a language on the lips that only hearts could understand.