Love that never ends

A cool breeze fluttered the curtains of her window like the waves in the shore. It was half opened. Her emaciated eyes searched for something among the crowd in the mumbai street. Her apartment, situated at the heart of street often glimmered with the kisses of citylights.
"How could u write, anjali.. In this crowded ambience"?
Anoop always hesitated and asked her to shift their place to some other cavernous ambience. He always thought that solitude and darkness could evoke her blood tinged pen.. Being a proud hubby, he always gifted her with packets of blue and Blackpen to write whatever her heart spoke. He thought that imagination is ruling a writer's brain..
Amidst of her hubby's overcare and insatiable craving for fame, she wrote as many books as she could... He is such a nice man, she know well. But what made her to think against him was, he couldn't germinate a seed in her womb.. She lived like a parasite, crawling through the sonorous quotes from the books, squeezing it to develop her creativity.
Anoop walked down the stairs, waving his hand and went to his jobsite. He is a senior engineer of a very reputed company. Anjali too had a job there. But she left it few months before to focus more on her literary career..
" What to write, everyone among her writer frndz portrayed diverse themes and it's reflections.. What else remains in this arid soul?