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We met as strangers; a heady combination of my lavender against your woody aftershave. A secret glance, when you thought I was not looking. An amused smile. We were opposites, poles apart from each other. And maybe, that was what drew us together.
I was a writer, books were my entire life. But you, on the other hand, didn't even glance at a book unless it included Sports Illustrated.
Never had I dreamt in a million years that I would find myself besotted with someone like you. Six months was all that we got to know about each other. Yet, it felt like six years, the end of which I knew right away that you were the One.
Years have passed, at times I've felt that I know you like the back of my hand. But there are days when you remain a mystery, eluding me like a stranger. There had been a lot who had thought that it would never work out between the both of us. That there was no way on earth that we could exist together.
But with each passing day, we proved them wrong. Sure, there are days when I feel like I've totally lost it. Yet, you hang in there with me, patiently.
And here we are today. As strangers we met, but now the very idea of life seems bleak without you in it.