POET -ANUPAM MONDAL
Chapter 1: The Encounter
The rain in London didn't just fall; it whispered secrets to the cobblestone streets. Arthur, a struggling violinist with silver hair and eyes that had seen too many winters, stood under the arch of the Westminster Bridge. He played a melody so hauntingly beautiful that even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Then, he saw her. Elara.
She was standing across the street, holding a transparent umbrella. She wasn't looking at him; she was looking through him. In a world of colors, she looked like a monochrome photograph—stunning, silent, and still.
Chapter 2: The Unspoken Bond
For weeks, they met at the same spot. Arthur played, and Elara listened. They never spoke. Not a single "hello." But in the way she tilted her head when he hit a minor chord, Arthur knew she felt every vibration of the strings.
One evening, he finally gathered the courage to stop playing. The silence between them was louder than the music.
"Why do you come here every day?" Arthur asked, his voice raspy.
Elara didn't answer. She pulled out a small leather notebook and wrote: "Because your music is the only thing I can see in the dark."
Arthur froze. Elara was blind.
Chapter 3: The Twist (The "Shock" Factor)
As months passed, they fell in love—a love built on sound and touch. Arthur promised Elara that he would fund her surgery to regain her sight. He sold his vintage Stradivarius violin, the only thing he truly owned, to pay for the operation.
The day the bandages came off, Arthur wasn't there. Elara opened her eyes to a world of blinding light and vivid colors. She ran to the bridge, desperate to see the man who had given her his world.
She saw a man sitting on the bench. It was Arthur. But as she approached him, she realized why he hadn't come to the hospital. He wasn't just sitting; he was motionless. On his lap was a note:
"I told you that you would see the world through my eyes. I didn't tell you I had to give them to you."
Chapter 4: The Revelatio
Elara gasped, tears blurring her newfound vision. But then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw... Arthur. He was standing there, his eyes perfectly fine, holding a cheap wooden violin.
She looked back at the man on the bench. It was a stone statue—a masterpiece he had spent months carving to look exactly like him, holding the note as a dramatic, artistic confession of his love.
"I didn't give you my physical eyes, Elara," Arthur whispered, smiling. "I gave you my soul through the music, and I worked three jobs to pay for the surgery. The statue is a reminder that even if I am gone, my love for you is carved in stone."