She was a girl.

It was a day extracted straight from some classic novel. Gentle breeze of evening, clouds floating close over the head and drizzle just enough to feel but not enough to get wet. Melodious and lively chirps of birds. Looking towards the dusky horizon, wondering where that black Mercedes hunk turned to go, that extremely well groomed, fair to a certain degree with a stubble look guy.

And her feet slipped.

Then as if from the very novel itself, that HE appeared behind her to hold her tight in his masculine grip before she could have any contact with the very ground she was walking on or rather gliding.....

BEEP.....BEEP.....BEEP

The hell, are there any living Cinderellas in this world? May be. May be not. One thing had become certain ten years back. She was not. She could not be. She was not born to be. While her friends were blooming with arrival of teenage in their lives, she was yet a bud. She had understood long back that she will not grow-up to be a lady who robs gentlemen of their hearts, who get their begging proposals laden with sweet love talks in the platter of romantic dates in expensive high-end restaurants. No, she was not an ugly duckling. She was a girl. Just on it. Nothing else to describe her on a positive or negative scale of forthcoming womanhood.