Our first summer together arrived. Azura told me she has received a ticket from her dad to fly home for the summer holiday. She asked me if I wanted to join her? I could not afford it, I said.
She held my hand, and rested her head on my shoulder as we watched doves feeding at the Trafalgar square. Her feet shuffled and drew a heart shape on the tarmac. Then I felt her body shaking. She was crying, sobbing.
"I will miss you...." She said between sobs.
I squeezed her hand and reassured her that the summer break would pass quickly before we came together again.
She looked straight into my eyes, smiled and asked me if I would join her for the holiday in Malaysia if she were to buy the tickets for me.

It was during that conversation while watching the doves and pigeons that I discovered who her father was, and suddenly felt distance and remote from where she was.
Azura, a daughter of a well known Malaysian conglomerate chairman, with a string of royalty bestowed titles to his name. Azura, an eagle soaring in the sky and I a mere 'pipit' catching worms on the ground.
However, at the moment, my heart flew away from both of us. I realized then that our status were so different. How could I ever cross the marbled threshold of her family home adorned with pearly gates and gold plated taps and sinks. I could not - I did not know how, and I would not be comfortable to.

At that moment, I could not say to Azura what I was feeling. I did not want to hurt her. I also was not ready to hurt myself for sure. So I let the information stayed within.

On the day of her departure, I sent Azura to the Heathrow airport. I helped her to check in, and was in a shock when I realized the ticket she was holding was a first class ticket. Azura, a girl born with silver spoons. But, all this while never once she indicated in any way - for Azura has always been humble and down to earth in everyway.
It was not her - it was me who was conscious of the status differences.
The shoes was too huge for my tiny village feet, which did not know how it feel to wear any shoes until I was thirteen. That too because I had to go to a boarding school and my widowed late mother had to borrow money from the local rubber wholesaler to pay for my first pair of white canvas shoes - not even a Bata one.
Azura must have noticed the little tears welling up in my eyes when she hugged me at the departure gate, for she took tissues from her handbag and wiped them away.
"I love you and will be thinking of you all the time I am there.." She was strangely strong that day. She later confessed she cried buckets once she was out of my sight. That was Azura, the girl who hid her own fear and sadness for my sake.

The summer did not pass as quickly as I had wished. I missed her dearly.

Tonight, I received a text message from her and it said
"Funny but true - I was looking at our pictures taken at Stratford and then I saw a familiar one one in your blog".

I smiled to myself.

I long to meet her again......!