"Kahaani ke panne toh ab palte hain"

~ Meher ~

Mumbai, India

I don't know for how long I had locked myself in the room.

My shoulders feel heavy, feeling like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. The revelation still echoed in my mind like a scream - Abhi and Tara, my friend and my boyfriend, were murdered five years ago and it wasn't just a normal suicide or an accident case. The memories we shared, the laughter, the tears— it all felt like a distant dream now.

As I lay in the confines of my room, the silence was deafening. I had collapsed onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My mind raced with thoughts, memories, and questions. How could this have happened? Why did it have to happen to them? The pain and grief I thought I had buried came flooding back, like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

I remembered the countless nights Abhi and I spent talking about our dreams, our fears, and our aspirations. I remember Tara's bright smile and infectious laughter. I remembered the way Abhi used to hold my hand, making me feel safe and loved. Tears streamed down my face as I relived those moments, the pain of their loss fresh and raw once more.

The ceiling above me becomes a blur as my vision clouds with tears. I'm trapped in a sea of grief, unable to escape the agony of losing the two people I loved. Time stands still as I relive the memories, the pain, and the heartache.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Sahil, who lied to me about Abhi and Tara's deaths, is also gone. Dead. The weight of his lie feels even heavier now, knowing that I'll never get the truth from him, never get to confront him about why he did that.

I remember the conversations we had, the way Sahil convinced me that Abhi's death was an accident and Tara had committed suicide. Even the police said so. But now when I think of it, I was so grief stricken that I failed to catch his lie. Why didn't he ever include me in his plan?

The pain and anger swirl together, a vortex of emotions that threatens to pull me under. I'm left with so many questions, so many what-ifs. What if Sahil had told the truth? What if I had known what really happened to Abhi and Tara? What if?

But the what-ifs were endless, and the truth was, I may never know. Sahil took his secrets to the grave, leaving me with only my grief and my anger. The thought is a heavy burden, one that I'm not sure I can carry.

As I lay there, surrounded by the silence of my room, I felt the weight of my losses bearing down on me. Abhi, Tara, and Sahil were all gone. All taken from me too soon. The pain was a crushing force, one that threatened to consume me whole.

In this darkness, I was left to face the truth— I may never get the answers I seek, never get the justice I crave. All I was left with was my grief, my anger, and the memories of those I had lost. The thought was a bleak one, a reminder that sometimes, the truth is hidden forever, and all we're left with is the pain of our losses.

But I wanted to change this theory, I wanted to find the truth. I want to finish what Sahil has left. This won't just be for me, it is for each one of us.

And I will find the truth— by hook or by crook.

I looked at the window in my room to see it was already dark.

A sigh escaped my lips and I pushed myself off the bed, wearing my slippers and walked out of my room to see Kabir sprawled on the sofa, watching TV in the living area.

"You're out," I stopped when I heard his voice and turned to him. Kabir got up from the sofa and walked up to me. Upon looking, I noticed that his gaze had softened and his eyes held sympathy.

I hated the look of it.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked and I could feel genuine concern in his voice.

I shrugged, going over to the kitchen to get myself some water.

Honestly, even I had no clue how I was feeling. I was too numb to feel it.

"Meher you need to let out," Kabir did not stop nagging and followed me to the kitchen. Does he not understand that I am flipping him off?

"Ignoring and avoiding me won't help, Mini. Stop doing that," I silently poured myself a glass of water, ignoring whatever he said.

After chugging down two glasses of water, I shoved the bottle back into the fridge and traced my steps back to my room, when a strong hand wrapped around my elbow, turning me around. "What is it, Kabir?" I almost shout at him, but I compose myself, not letting the worst come out of me.

"Keeping things inside of you, won't help Meher," he tells me, pulling me close. I looked into his eyes, the lines lining his onyx eyes only softening as he looked at me.

But I wasn't ready. "Don't you do that, Kabir? Don't you push people away when you don't know what to feel?"

It came out very harsh. I immediately regretted it and my expression faltered upon realisation.

Kabir's expression did not change, but his eyes seemed to bore deeper into mine. He took a step closer, his voice low and gentle. "Yes, Meher, I do. But I'm trying not to, not with you. I am trying to be someone that you can lean on, let me be that person."

He pulled me into a soft embrace, his arms wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I tried to resist at first, but his hold was firm, yet gentle. He did not force me to accept his comfort, but he was not letting me push him away either.

"I know you're not ready, Meher," he whispered into my hair. "But I'm here, waiting for you. Whenever you're ready to talk, to cry, to scream— I'm here. You're not alone in this."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I realised the truth in his words. Kabir may have his walls, but he was trying to break them down for me. He was trying to be the rock I needed, the safe space I craved to be in.

I stood there, wrapped in his embrace, I felt a small crack in my armour. A small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we can face this together. Maybe we can heal each other's wounds and somehow find comfort in each other.

Slowly, my arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, and the urge to feel that warmth had heightened.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt a sense of comfort and security wash over me. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I could breathe again for the first time in hours.

Kabir's hold on me tightened, and he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Meher, whatever happened, shouldn't have happened."

I pulled back, looking up at him, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Kabir, you don't have to be sorry. I think maybe now that I know, I will be able to accept their deaths easily."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "It is never easy, accepting death. But you know what, love can stay incomplete but grief must always be complete."

I noticed the guilt and regret in his eyes, and my heart went out to him. I reach up, placing my hand on his cheek. "You're right, Kabir and for that, I need to find answers."

"We," He nods, a small smile on his lips. "Together, Meher. Always together."

We stood there for a moment, the silence between us palpable. I could feel Kabir's tension and his discomfort with emotional displays. But he was trying, and that's what mattered.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "Meher, can I get you something to eat? You hadn't eaten all day."

I shook my head, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. "I am not hungry, Kabir."

He nodded, understanding. "Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know or you can check the fridge, there might be some leftovers. And there's some new Ramen, Maan has stocked in case you want to eat something light."

We stood there momentarily, the silence between us a little more comfortable now. I could feel Kabir's presence and his support, which gave me the strength to keep going.

"Kabir?" I said my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For being there. For trying."

He nodded, his eyes softening. "Well, we are getting somewhere," his voice lightened as I felt his usual cocky undertone. "That's progress."

Well, it was a progress indeed.

*   *   *

As we entered the chief minister's opulent residence, the sombre atmosphere enveloped us. The funeral gathering was in full swing, with mourners paying their respects to the departed Utkarsh Patil. Though the body had already been cremated, the sense of loss and grief lingered palpably.

Kabir's hand brushed against mine, a gentle reminder of his presence. We navigated through the crowd, exchanging nods and quiet greetings with those we knew. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of condolences.

We made our way to the designated area, where a large photograph of Utkarsh Patil sat adorned with flowers and garlands. I felt a pang of discomfort, realizing I had never met the deceased, and yet, here we were, paying our respects.

As we stood before the photograph, the chief minister, Utkarsh Patil's father, approached us. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face bore the weight of grief. Kabir and I exchanged a respectful nod with him.

"Kabir, Meher, thank you for coming," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "It means a lot to me and my family."

"The loss is immense, sir," Kabir replied, his voice solemn. "Our condolences are with you and your family in this difficult time."

The chief minister nodded, his eyes welling up with tears. "Utkarsh was a good boy, a good son. I couldn't have asked for more."

I felt a pang of sympathy for the man, who had lost his child. "Sir, please take care of yourself during this difficult time," I said, my voice soft.

He nodded, his gaze drifting away, lost in thought. Kabir and I stood there for a moment, offering what little comfort we could. Then, Kabir excused himself, "Sir, if you'll permit me, I need to greet some other acquaintances."

The chief minister nodded, his attention still elsewhere. "Of course, Kabir. Go ahead."

"I'll be right back, Meher," he whispered. I nodded, understanding, and remained beside the photograph, feeling a sense of disconnection from the mourners around me.

The minutes ticked by, and Kabir's absence stretched longer than expected. I scanned the crowd, searching for his familiar face, and spotted him engaged in conversation with a group of colleagues and politicians. His eyes met mine, and he offered a gentle smile, but I knew he was caught up in the web of social obligations.

As I stood there, lost in thought, my gaze wandered through the crowd, and suddenly, a familiar face caught my attention. Ahaan Chahal, with his sombre expression, was making his way towards me. We had gone on a date a few months ago but realized we weren't compatible and parted ways as friends.

"Meher, it's good to see you again," Ahaan said, his voice subdued, as he reached my side. "I'm so sorry to see you here under these circumstances."

"Thank you, Ahaan. It's a difficult time for everyone," I replied, trying to sound composed despite the sorrow that filled the air.

"I'm so sorry again for missing your wedding. I had some family issues that I needed to take care of," he explained, his expression sympathetic.

"No worries at all, Ahaan. I completely understood," I assured him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I had met Utkarsh a few times at parties and official gatherings. He was such a nice guy," his voice was gentle but lost as he longingly gazed at his photo.

"I'm so sorry, Ahaan," I replied, shaking my head. "It's just tragic. He was so young and full of life."

Ahaan nodded, his eyes clouding over. "I know. It's hard to believe he's gone. But I'm glad you're here," I passed him a weak smile.

Just then, an older man, who looked like Ahaan's older version appeared in front of us. His stature held a hint of authority and I was able to join the dots that he was Ahaan's father.

Ahaan turned to him with a solemn nod. "Meher, this is my father, Arvind Chahal. Dad, this is Meher, a friend of mine."

Arvind Chahal's handshake was firm, his gaze piercing.

"Meher, it's an honour to finally meet you," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "Ahaan has told me about your potential in the business world. I must say, I'm impressed. You have a bright future ahead of you."

"Thank you, Mr. Chahal," I said, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kind words. "That means a lot coming from you. I'm just starting out, and I have a lot to learn."

Arvind smiled, his expression softening. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. And don't worry, we're all here to support you. By the way, where's your husband, Kabir? I thought he would be here with you today."

I hesitated for a moment before responding, "Oh, Kabir was just here speaking to some acquaintances."

Ahaan nodded understandingly. "Please give him our regards and congratulate him as well for the wedding."

"I will," I smiled.

*   *   *

I walked out of the room, feeling accomplished after finishing my presentation ahead of schedule. As I entered the living room, I noticed Kabir sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. I approached him, and plopped down beside him, our legs touching.

"Hey, Kabir," I said, catching his attention. "What's going on?"

Kabir turned to me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Just waiting for my favourite friend to finish work so we can hang out."

I laughed, hitting him lightly on his shoulder. "If I knew you could be like this when we were friends, I would have befriended you years ago."

Kabir leaned to my side, his face turning to me, our faces inches away. "Then who would have kept this competition alive?"

My gaze fell on Kabir's lips, which were pressed together with the corners slightly lifted, teasing me. I quickly looked away, focusing on the news report. "I would have won anyway," I bit my lip, mentally cursing myself.

"You wish," the hint of amusement drawls from the way he says and I don't dare to see him again.

He was a friend but why in the world I was looking at his fucking lips?

I turned our attention to the TV, our banter forgotten as the news anchor's sombre voice detailed the shocking murder of Utkarsh Patil. Kabir's expression turned grave, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as we both leaned in, our attention captivated by the disturbing news.

"...and in a gruesome twist, the body was found with the eyeballs removed," I felt my hands instinctively reach for Kabir's who took my hand in his, as we exchanged a worried glance. He had such a bright life, and looking at his distraught family today had thrown me off the edge.

We turned our attention back to the TV, as the reporter told the details of the murder. They tell the same details that we were already aware of, thankfully our news channel was able to release it first. Pictures of the crime scene flashed on the screen, the reporter explained how he was in his room as he had called in sick. He was killed inside the Chief Minister's house, which was supposed to be the most secure place if not less. The killer was vengeful and had a heightened level of guts to do such a gruesome crime.

But it was what came next that left us both stunned— the police had released a photo of a statue of justice, identical to the one sent to me anonymously yesterday. It was exactly the same as the one I had received. The only difference was, that I had a better, digital version of that picture and the one that was stuck to Utkarsh's body was printed on paper and not from some photo studio. The killer was smart because the photo could have been easily traced back to him if he had gotten it printed by some studio.

And the fact that the police had released it through the media meant only one thing— they wanted the killer to know that they were after him.

The camera zoomed in on the statue's haunting gaze, its blindfolded eyes staring into my soul. I felt a chill run down my spine as Kabir whispered, "Isn't it the same one that was sent to you yesterday?"

I mutely nodded, my eyes never leaving the television.

"Who could he have been?" he mumbled out aloud.

If only I knew Kabir.

Another end to the chapter. I feel like I have a new surge of energy running through me as I ended up finishing this chapter in three days, which in fact, is progress. This will definitely help me stock up on the chapters beforehand so that I won't be late publishing the chapters. I really hope I can write as much as I can.

Well, a piece of information has come to light. The person who sent the photo to Meher might be the same one who killed Utkarsh Patil. What are your thoughts on it? Let me know in the comments.

Life is such a monotone that it has become irritating.

Anyway, do VOTE, COMMENT and SHARE. Comment a heart if you enjoyed reading this chapter.

With Love,

Akii.