Chapter 7: What’s Left Behind

Midnight. Priya slept soundly. The clock in the corner ticked away.

Arjun had just finished speaking to the doctor. He slumped on the sofa, his right eyelid twitching, exhaustion heavy on his shoulders.

Priya had nearly lost the baby. Arjun cancelled all work to be by her side—three whole days. But now, in the quiet, his heart twisted.

A face surfaced in his mind. Meera.

He closed his eyes, unsure what he felt. He thought he loved Priya, but sitting beside her, his heart was calm as still water. Meera, whom he’d thought dispensable, now haunted him.

He scrolled to Meera’s chat. The last message—a smiley and a simple "Thank you."

He remembered how she’d wanted South Indian food. He’d put her off, then, when he was lonely, called her. She was beautiful that day, light makeup, happy even when he refused her chutney and jokes. She was always the one who gave more, humble in her love, seven years of quiet devotion.

Meera had been by his side longer than Priya ever was. She was the ideal partner—reliable, steady, always there. But now, looking at the silent chat, his eyes darkened.

Had he been too harsh? Had he scared her?

He typed, "Do you know you were wrong?"—hoping she’d understand, hoping she’d forgive him.

Before he could hit send, his assistant called. "Sir, the police officer who acted as a hostage for Miss Priya last time... couldn’t be saved."

Arjun’s mind was elsewhere, voice impatient. "Find her family, give them two lakh and be done. Saving people is a police officer’s job. Do some PR. Don’t let any blame fall on Priya."

His assistant hesitated. "Uh, Miss Meera—"

Arjun switched on the TV. "Buy Meera a gift, give it to her during her time off. Necklace or watch, whatever you like."

He was about to say more, when Meera’s photo flashed on the news. He stared at the words: "Meera," "stabbed multiple times," "sacrificed."

For a few seconds, nothing registered. Then, the assistant’s trembling voice: "Sir, I was just about to say, Miss Meera died in the line of duty, you... didn’t know? She was the police officer who died."

The ticking clock was deafening, echoing through the empty drawing room. The news anchor’s voice faded, replaced by the hush of regret that creeps into every Indian home after midnight, when only ghosts and guilty hearts remain awake. For the first time, Arjun’s hands trembled—and this time, there was no one left to steady them. Outside, the rain began again, washing away the dust of all his certainties.

[Host, tum toh asli drama queen nikli! System signing off!]