Marriages are made in heaven

(It's a short (very) story on a couple whose marriage is on the rocks...I wrote this as a creative writing exercise, in which the underlined words had to be connected to form a stroy............)

Sad and dejected, Mrs. Screwvala lay on a rickety couch, as a withered Sunflower, estranged from a bouquet, a bouquet of two beautiful buds tied by a legal thread, their entwined bodies immune to the thorns, trying to compromise the bond, the bond of marriage.

‘Honey, I’ll be late tonight. I have an important meeting with a client.’ These words of her husband kept reverberating in her head. ‘Now, this is the limit. I can’t take it any more…’ Mrs. Screwvala sprung up from the couch at the sudden thought of this gentleman she met the last night in her friend’s reception party. She was mesmerized by his chivalry and the big grin he wore however superficial it may have looked on his well-preened face. The whole night she couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was something else that interested her more than him, it was his ‘business card’ that said – Divorce lawyer, with an uncanny tagline – ‘Marriages are made in heaven, they are broken here.’

Accumulating the courage, she reached out for a bunch of keys, concealed from her husband’s prying eyes, and opened the vault, the vault of privacy, the vault of memories. She knew that all the stuff inside, would bring back the mixed emotions of joy and despair. Nonetheless, she opened the vault and kept staring at the stuff, until a tiny drop of tear rolled down her cheeks and ignoring the feeling of déjà vu she removed the battered laptop from the shelf, which was her husband’s fiery reply to her innocent complaint regarding the pornography, she accidentally found in it.

Hardly had she come out of the horrible memories, that she saw the swim wear, still packed in the Libertina cover. She remembered how embarrassed she was, when he gifted it on their first anniversary, that even his numerous apologies would not deter her from talking to him. And how he made up for it, by giving her a diamond ring whose gift-wrapped cover was still preserved underneath the swim wear. She had preserved all the love letters he used to send her, in a large file filled with papers. Placed on top of the file, were old- fashioned sunglasses, he wore the time he proposed her. How funny he looked with these big sunglasses coupled with his long wavy moustache that she couldn’t stop giggling, but she did say ‘Yes’. Because she too loved him.

‘Why do things change after marriage? Why does love become a liability? Why do we forget the wedding vows? Does marriage mean compromise? Doesn’t that contradict true love? Whatever it is, I shall compromise. Because both of us love each other and we shall work this out. With a new vigor, she keeps everything back and as she was about to close the door to the vault, she noticed a sticky note, written with a blunt pencil – ‘If we can’t talk open, lets talk divorce’