Trying my hand on something new.

The below narration is completely fictitious. Any relation to the living or dead is completely unintentional and coincidental.

He took the vase and emptied the water into the sink. The sink gurgled and choked, before expressing its satisfaction with a loud burp. He refilled the vase with fresh water and placed the carnations inside. He arranged it to make it look presentable before placing it on the table beside her. He took a seat. His eyes moved slowly upwards and met hers'. But they were shut. She was asleep. He raised his hand and touched her forehead. A faint smile formed on his face and he heaved a sigh. The Casio ticked. It was already 11. It had been an extremely long and hectic day. Bryce thrust his arms into the air and stretched. His joints creaked. It was then when all of the fatigue made its presence felt. He felt his eyelids getting heavier. And so, he folded his arms and rest his head on the table top.
They both met under strange and unusually coincidental circumstances.
It was a Thursday morning. He boarded the bus with his mind filled with chemical equations and formulas. He was on the verge of finally completing the uphill task of higher science chemistry. She was the back of the bus, frantically scribbling away the final sketches of her art paper. The topic was "The Art of Science". Unknowingly, in a trance like motion, he walked to the back of the bus. His eyes swept around the interior and the only seat available was the one beside the art girl.
Whoever said that opposite poles attract was a downright genius. She was adding the finishing brushes to her artwork when she heard the muttering of the guy who just settled down beside her. She strained and heard: "No, the bond for Na is not like so. It should be......". Then, she glanced at her artwork. Well, she wasn't exactly the ace student in sciences, but it was the arts and who gave a heck about bondings or valence electrons? She listened to that chanting as it continued. "How can the formula for KNO3 be like that? No, that is just stupid... How...". She felt her anger raising. Her blood boiled. It was bad enough that she had to hand up a piece of artwork that she had no faith in passing- not to mention the bad hair day- now there is a single-tracked science brained graduate correcting her errs. Even if the science student could tell that she majored in the Arts? She turned around and said, "Look. If you have such a fetish about your bonds and electrons and displacements and whatever else nonsense there is, shut up and think it silently. If everyone in the world think stuff like that, then you would be wearing leaves instead of apparels made up of nylon!". Her eyes were blazing with rage. Her lips were pulled towards each other and made a fearsome twitch. He on the other hand was completely taken aback by the event. "Huh...What?", he answered, trying his best to piece the fragments together and to find out why this crazy girl was shouting at him without rhyme or reason. "Why you...", she retorted. Just then, his notes slipped out of his file. It read, "The Bonding of...."..
After that little drama, they suddenly bumped into one another more often. He took the liberty of waking up a little earlier to groom himself. While she made the initiative to wake up 30 minutes earlier to catch the bus he was on.
2 years later, they both graduated, the graduation papers in one hand and the other with the loved one.
Because their minds were attracted to different subjects, they both, naturally, worked at different faculties. She continued her studies at the NIE and became a teacher at NAFA. While he found a job at Biopolis and quickly rosed among the ranks and became the Head of Department at the tender age of 28 years old. And of course, their bond strengthened.
It took him 5 full years before he decided that he would want to live the rest of his life with her. And so, he took half day leave and made his way to Trinity. He got the ring and went home.
That night, he dreamt of a Green Vios. She boarded the Green Vios and never looked back, despite his repeated calls. He woke up, sweating. He messaged her, "I know this may sound corny, but if possible, I don't want you to go. I will gladly exchange my life for yours to continue." And her reply "Don't be silly. =)"
That very night, he proposed and succeeded. It was a moment of euphoric.
The day of engagement was to be on the following Saturday. It seemed like eons although it was just 3 short days.
The very day, he dressed his very best. Yes, even if it was just the engagement. She too dressed her very best. The time of the meet was 3.40pm.
3.40pm.
3.48pm.
3.56pm
4.13.pm.
He looked at the Casio again. He felt something was amiss. So, he drove to her place. Traffic was unusually heavy on that day. There were road signs at almost every few traffic junctions. He finally arrived at her block. He stepped out of his Caymen and rushed towards the lift lobby. Just then, something caught his eye- the flashing red and blue lights of the police car. Something inside him egged him to go take a look. So he did. Parked a few inches away from the Police Subaru was a Green Vios. A badly dented one. Then a couple of metres away from the Green Vios lied a body. He walked closer. A foreboding feeling grew in his mind. Sweat trickled down his neck and his palms sweat. There, in a pool of blood, was her.
He felt someone tapping on his back. "Bryce...Wake up.". It was her mother. She looked at him and forced out a smile. 8 years has passed since the accident. She took a chair from the corner and placed it in front of him. She sat down before continuing, "So. When are you going to snap out of it? You know that she wouldn't want you to be all alone. It's time to move on.". Bryce looked at her. His head looked downwards. He couldn't find any reply. So, like all of the others trying to run away from a decided truth, he escaped. "It's getting late. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow, got to run Aunty." He rose, turned around and gave a peck on her forehead before rushing off. To where he didn't know.
The Caymen's engine was at full throttle. He had never pushed the car this hard before. The speedometer steadily rosed. 192km/h. 220km/h. Then, suddenly, the steering wheel swerved out of control and the Caymen collided into the walls. It turtled and was the force sent it propelling into the river below.
By the time paramedics arrived at the scene, Bryce was long gone. He was gone before the Caymen spun out off control. He was even controlling it.
Her mother walked around the room. Arranging the magazines in order as though someone had rummaged through them. She wished the she did. Then, her fingers began to twitch. She woke up, mumbling, "Bryce...".