The best day

The roadside was no place for such displays of affection. Especially not in a country like that, particularly that neighborhood, especially that street. But they didn't care.

The wind was a rebel that day, blowing hard and fast, uncaring for the casualties, the leaves abandoning their perches atop tall trees to flutter to the ground in lazy circles. Cars zoomed by, fast, uncaring for the pair that hid from some, flaunted to some.

Raghav held out his hands, entwining his fingers with Radha's. They fit perfectly together, their breaths mingling, one breathing in, while the other breathed out.

A street hawker noticed them, smiled to himself, looked away.

People waiting on the bus stop, intermittently glanced at the time devices on their hands, before stealing glimpses of the couple who were so clearly wrapped up in each other that they had no idea as to the picture they made to the people around.

Raghav had eyes only for Radha. She looked radiant today. Yellow had always been her color, the light hue sitting pretty against the fairness of her skin, contrasting with her lustrous hair. His Radha looked beautiful always, but she simply glowed in yellow.

A bus pulled up to the stop, people got down, a few climbed on. The driver reached into his pocket to retrieve the neat handkerchief his wife had ironed for him and handed over that morning. He wiped sweat off his forehead, his eyes catching on the lovers, a bemused smile lifting the corners of his lips.

Radha blushed. Her eyes lowered, as they often did while she was around Raghav. Sometimes she wondered if she loved watching him more or enjoyed the game of cat and mouse they now played. He chuckled, reached over to palm her chin, slowly raising her face back up, ensuring that her eyes clashed with his. She blushed some more.

An old lady walked up to a fancy car parked on the sidewalk, a flimsy bag clutched tightly in her hand. She knocked on the tinted window and held out her hands for the spare change the generous man in the suit handed out. Wobbling away, she stopped for a second, raised her hands to bless the adorable duo, before making her way to the street hawker to buy her daily dose of afternoon tea.

Raghav reached into his pocked, keeping one hand entwined with Radha's. He pulled out a small, velvet lined box. Radha felt her breath catch, her eyes watering instantly, as the hand holding hers tightened.

The people at the bus stop, the hawker, the beggar, regular people, suddenly turned to witnesses to a moment of a lifetime; they gasped, smiled, clapped.

Radha could hear none of it over the sound of her own heartbeat. She looked from the box holding a small diamond, to the man who held her heart. She smiled her serene smile. Yellow was her lucky color, she though absently.

Raghav squeezed her hand again, a silent reminder that she had yet to answer his unsaid question.

She looked up at him and simply nodded. There was nothing else to be done. It was decided, it was fated, they were meant to be.

He laughed, whooped in joy, before carefully placing the ring on her finger.

They both looked at her hand for endless moments, content to be in this instantly perfect snapshot of their lives together.

A loud horn interrupted their musings, the special bus pulling up to stop a little ways ahead.

Raghav smiled to Radha. Radha blew him a kiss back.

Their hands untangled.

Then, in unison, they maneuvered their wheelchairs to the special bus. The attendant descended to help them.

"Ladies first," said Raghav softly. Radha gave him her luminous smile and rolled her wheelchair up the platform, the attendant helping quietly.

"Having a good day sir?" asked the attendant as he helped roll Raghav's wheelchair into the van.

"Having a good life my friend," chuckled Raghav, his eyes meeting his fiance's and crinkling in delight.