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When love is plural.

A well salaried job. A three BHK flat. Friends coming during the weekend. House parties. Life seemed good and happy. I was far more successful and independent than most peers of my age. I had all the money to travel the world once a year. All I had to do was choose the country and book my tickets. The only glitch was whenever I had to choose the seat in the plane, I chose the one by the window because the only company I had were the skies and clouds outside. The seat next to me always belonged to a stranger. Yes ! Being a divorcee wasn’t easy in my country. Though I left my baggage far behind, the weight of the society was weighing me down. “OH, you’re a divorcee? What happened?” People ask. It felt as though I lost a loved one. Relatives sending me condolence messages and my parents looked like my life was over.

During one of my lonely trips to Dubai, I met this gentleman. Formal shirt and trousers. Neatly made hair. Shoes polished. My seat was 5F and his was 5E. Mine was as usual the window seat and I never really bothered about my co-passenger. I pulled out a book from my bag and started to read. “MAKE IT 2” was the title by a debudente author,  Sharada Subramanian. “It’s a nice book.  I have read it.” He said. “Excuse me?” I asked him. “It’s a breezy read. I loved the ending. I’m Siddharth by the way and you are?”. He asked.  “I’m Priya.” I said with a stern voice.

At the end of the 4 hour journey, I finished the book and also discussed about it with siddarth. We both had a lot in common. “So what brings u alone to dubai?” He asked. ” Well. I recently got divorced so been traveling alone to places”I replied. “WOW. That’s brilliant. Let me tell you, you’re never alone. You are your best company.” He said. I smiled wide. We exchanged numbers and he went his way.

A week later, I get a whatsapp message. “Hey! Tropical iceberg in coffee day?” It said and I knew it was him as it was a line from the book we both loved. We met for coffee and one hour extended to four. We met almost every other day. We liked each other’s company. I never really asked much about his personal life. But I knew there was someone else he lived with.

Four months later. .

“Why don’t you come home?” He asked. I was apprehensive but obliged. Wore my finest perfume and a long red dress. Rang his door bell. The door opened. Couldn’t see anyone. “Hello Priya” a voice said. I looked down.  A eight year old boy welcomed me inside.

“My son Adithya.” He said as the little one came over to hug me. I was quite not prepared but hugged back nevertheless. After a sumptuous dinner, we sat down by the couch for desserts. “Dad has told alot about you. You look more beautiful in person” he said. I was taken aback.

“I’am sorry if this is a shock. Wanted you to meet him before I told you about him. He is the center of my life. My wife died in a road accident five years back. It’s been just me and him since then. I didn’t want to hurry into another marriage. I wanted to ensure I like the woman and so does he.” Siddharth said holding my hand. “You’re hands look so plain. Don’t you wear jewelry on them?” He asked.

“Well. . I love ur son. He is so well behaved. I love him. He is amazing. Don’t be worried. I’m not shocked. I’m only glad. Yes, never really had the chance to wear a finger ring. Nothing moved me enough to buy.” I said.

“Desserts?” He asked.  “sure why not!” I replied. He stepped into the kitchen to bring some cake for me. He turned on the CD player. Not the kind of songs I would like to hear were playing but I wasn’t complaining 🙂

“Priya” adithya said as he sat next to me. “I lost mom before I really knew how she looked like completely. It’s always been dad and I. He is not the kind to bring women home. He is a superman who wears his underwear inside. He is my hero but I think he needs his heroine too.

“SO Priya… will you marry my dad?” He asked as he got on one knee. Siddharth was leaning by the kitchen wall as he looked at the entire situation with a smile. I was speechless.

“To the Queen of our hearts, Priya. Welcome home” he said holding this amazing piece of art from “” that looked nothing less than a masterpiece. Finally a jewellery that is worthy enough to slip into my finger.  This one is not just a ring but a part of my life.


And I did say “YES” 🙂

Choose stylori and let it be a part of your most special moments in life. Just like how it was a part of mine. Their collections will leave you wanting for more. Made with love, passion and some diamonds too 🙂



Priya Siddharth.



mindless thoughts & thoughtless mind...!

5 thoughts on “When love is plural.

  1. Breezy reading making me want to read your Make it 2. honestly I was a bookworm who stopped reading due to force and choice. Even GB requested for a read and it is still with me without the push to get onto it. Your style of writing seems to impress me. Maybe you will get me back to reading books once again.


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