Unended severance at the waiting lounge at airport

Between the hurly-burly scene of people parting off with their bags, kids playing while sitting on the strollers, and the announcements, he stands reluctantly, restless behind the metal bar looking in the direction she is walking, carrying her backpack and a handbag, identity card and tickets in one hand ready to be shown when asked for. She is about to take a turn, into a glass lobby, after which she would not be visible to him anymore. Drops of tear are sliding down from underneath her shades over her cheeks to the nape of her neck, where she can also feel the beats of her throbbing quiver heart. She want to cry out, cry out loud the sad story of her poor heart. Swiftly, she wipes off her tears using her soft white kerchief, takes her shades off, wears a curve called 'smile' on her lips, and elegantly looks back at him with sparkling eyes. Reluctantly she waves him off with the best act of display of excitement of seen-you-again-soon and wish-you-happiness-ever look.

“Madam, your identity please”, asks the security at the entrance.
“Ya, here it is!”, she says handing over her ID card.
“Thank you, Madam”

"Thank yo," she says with a soft smile on lips but blankness reflecting in her eyes.

She turns back again and takes the last look at him and enters the lobby. He turns back to leave the place. His bike is parked outside. He makes his way straight to the parking area. 

His phone rings...
Display: Smitha Calling
“Hey… Hi Smitha!”, he answers. “… ya ya… I’ll be there in an hour or so… Just came to see off one of my friend… okay, then you of you be ready... I’ll pick you, uncle and aunty and head directly for the temple... Hmmm... See ya!”

He gives a quick smirk and disconnects the phone. Sliding his phone in his pocket, he took the bike keys out.

No emotions cast any shadow on his face. Probably, he is cold. Probably, there is no feeling at all. Probably, there is a total different angel to his frigid undemonstrated  behaviour or probably not.

He leaves on his heavy duty bike, passing through the drive way, the engine making loud sound; ‘dug dug dug dug dug…’

Her heart is reciprocating the reverberation of the same ‘dug dug dug dug’ sound, may be even louder, louder enough to hear but feel. Still, standing inside the lobby near the entrance, her fingers clenches the side wall edge and she bursts into tears. No, no sound is being heard. Only her eyes are closed and strands of tears are flowing from her closed eyes. There is forbidding grip of grief on her face making it look dilapidated with saddened stretched wrinkles falling everywhere. Her lip forced shut in an up-curve shape. The side muscles of her neck are pulled and tightened making her neck look wider. She wants to say a lot of things, aloud. She feels breathless. Takes in deep breaths every few seconds. Her handbag fells off her hand. She is trying not to lose her mind at this moment.

Two months back:

“I cannot deny it... Oh God! Seriously, I had have an abysmal depth of love for him Smitha. And, this statement of mine stands truest in my life. We were never together and would never be. I know he never had and would never have any feelings for me. But, I cherish the moments compiling one and a half years which I got to spend with him, talking to him, hearing him, looking at him, observing him, and falling in love with him every passing day. I never told him anything as such, though I tried once, somewhere, I knew, it would be futile. But, yes, it was a blissful feeling to be in love with him. Though, I had big dreams with him, he has different images in his real world. I know, he wasn't meant for me. And, he was sure, I wasn't meant for him either. I know, if I would have been with him, I would not have been happy because he is a cold person, atleast towards me. It’s been sometime now, that he has left. At times the bitter truth that he wasn't he love with me, hurts me. But I try to be headstrong and not let that thought disturb me much because whatever was there between me and him, whatever relation we shared, that was good and happy, being blissfully in love, the unconditional love, the truest form of love, the unsaid love. And, still stands the same, wrapped up in silence... true, pure and beautiful. And, I miss and would always miss his presence in my life, Smitha. I know he is about to get married which he has not told me about and would never tell. (Closed her eyes, took a long breath... Opened her eyes and smiled). Anyways, I just wish him all the happiness and I want to leave this town before he gets married. It kills me to think of his marriage and thereafter staying in this town. I need to leave.”

“What is his name?”, asked Smitha.

“Nothing is going to make any difference. I have buried his name somewhere under the path of my memory lane. I will leave and never meet him again", she said with a smirk. Though, if asked, may be she would wait forever to to meet him.

Present:

Her neck and face muscles are exerted and feels slightly tormented. Its been fifteen seconds that she has been struggling to overcome this pain. She's aware of the fact that she is in a public place and that she cannot afford to make any sort of scene here. She does not carry an image like that. She has always and will always display an image of a strong, self-reliant girl, because she is one. After taking a few deep breaths, taking control of all the nerve ends sending emotional signals to all the parts of her body making her feel weak at knees, she snaps back. Picks up her bag briskly and stands up, stands up to her image of a strong girl. Pat dries off her tears quickly with her kerchief ensuring not to smudge the kohl liner to ensure not to make her eyes look 'cried'. Though, her eyes are still red. She wears her huge black shades back. She relaxes her face and neck muscles quickly. Wears her smile again and take stern strong steps towards the security check after which she walks into the lobby and takes up a seat there. Checks the flight status at the display panel behind her and then turn front to check her watch. Takes out a small water bottle and takes a few sips of water. She realizes that her throat has been dry and that she has been very thirsty. Slips in the bottle back and out came a book off her back-pack. With the sober look on her face (Her swollen eyes and the thin red branched lines inside them are still hidden under the shades. May be the eyes are still wet), she sits in a relaxed way with her head slightly tilted, she starts reading the book while waiting for the boarding call for her flight.