"Ajeeb kashmakash mein laakar khada kar diya hai zindagi ne mujhe"

~ meher mathur raizada

~ Meher ~

5 And A Half Years Ago

The late afternoon sun beat down on the college gate as I stood there, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. My phone buzzed with a message, and I already knew who it was from. Sahil. I rolled my eyes before even reading it.

Sahil: Two minutes away. Don't pout too much, Meher.

I couldn't help but chuckle despite myself. Sahil had always been like this— flippant, teasing, and utterly convinced he was the funniest person in the world. As I waited, the low hum of an approaching bike cut through the chatter of students spilling out of campus. My stomach sank.

And there he was, in his usual style, revving his ancient, black bike as though it was some prized possession. The bike aka Bikevati, as he loved to call it, looked as old as time itself, covered in scratches and dents, and rattling ominously every time it moved. I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes as he pulled up beside me with a smirk.

"Your royal chariot has arrived, ma'am," Sahil declared, flipping up the visor of his helmet and bowing mockingly.

"I hate that thing, Sahil," I shot back, jabbing a finger toward the bike. "Do you even care about my safety? Or is this your way of getting rid of me?"

"Relax, princess," he said, patting the seat. "You'll be fine. I've been riding this beast for years. Trust me."

"I don't trust you, and I definitely don't trust that," I said, glaring at the bike again.

But, as always, Sahil had a way of wearing me down. Muttering under my breath, I climbed onto the bike, clutching the back of his jacket for dear life. As soon as he started moving, I felt my stomach churn.

"Why does this thing vibrate so much? Is it supposed to sound like it's falling apart?" I yelled over the noise.

"Don't insult her! She's sensitive!" Sahil replied, laughing.

"She's a death trap!"

The entire ride to his house was spent like this— me clinging to him and yelling my complaints, and Sahil responding with quips and chuckles. By the time we arrived, I was exhausted, both from the terror of the ride and from arguing with him.

When we entered the apartment, the familiar aroma of pizza greeted us, mingling with the faint scent of cologne and old wood. Sahil and Abhimanyu's place was always like this—inviting, warm, and just a little messy. It felt like home, even if it wasn't mine.

"Took you long enough," Abhimanyu called out from the living room, his voice tinged with mock annoyance.

"Blame her," Sahil said, pointing at me. "She's got trust issues."

"With your bike? Absolutely," I retorted, plopping down on the couch.

The living room was cozy, its mismatched furniture giving it character. Tara was already sprawled on the other couch, her legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and smiled at me, her expression warm as always.

"Movie time?" she asked, holding up the remote.

"Absolutely," I said, grinning.

The next couple of hours flew by in a blur of laughter, pizza, and the gripping storyline of the film. We were all engrossed, too invested in the twists and turns to even speak. Every now and then, someone would let out an audible gasp or shout at the screen, but otherwise, the room was quiet save for the sound of the movie.

When the credits finally rolled, I leaned back, stretching my arms above my head.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "you can't really understand a situation until you're part of it. Isn't that what every good reporter does? Dive into the story to find the truth?"

I expected some witty remark from Sahil or a sarcastic comment from Abhimanyu, but instead, the room fell silent. The shift in energy was immediate, and it made my skin prickle. I looked around, my gaze settling on each of them. Tara stared at the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Sahil avoided my eyes entirely, fiddling with an empty pizza box. Even Abhi, who was rarely fazed by anything, seemed to tense.

"What's the matter with all of you?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did I say something wrong?"

Abhimanyu was the first to recover, his smile quick but forced. "Nothing, Meher. You just made us all think a little too hard. That's all."

He changed the subject smoothly, steering the conversation back to the movie's ending. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something had just passed between them, something unsaid but heavy. I let it go, though, not wanting to ruin the evening.

Later, as Tara and I headed to the kitchen to grab some drinks, I noticed something. When she reached for a glass from the shelf, her sleeve slipped down her arm, revealing a burn mark on her wrist. It was faint but unmistakable, the edges raw and pink against her skin.

"Tara," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "What happened to your hand?"

She froze for a moment, then quickly pulled her sleeve back down. "It's nothing," she said lightly, turning away from me. "I burned it while cooking. Not a big deal."

But I wasn't convinced. I reached out, gently taking her arm and pulling up the sleeve again. The burn looked recent, the kind that should still sting when touched. My stomach churned as I studied it.

"This doesn't look like nothing, Tara," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Are you sure—"

"I said it's fine, Meher," she interrupted, her tone suddenly defensive. "Let it go."

Her reaction startled me. Tara was usually so open, so easy to talk to. But now, there was a barrier between us, one I hadn't seen before. Reluctantly, I let go of her arm and stepped back.

"Okay," I said quietly, not wanting to push her further. "If you say so."

She gave me a tight smile, her eyes flickering with something I couldn't quite place. Guilt? Fear? Before I could decipher it, she turned back to the shelf, grabbing the glasses and heading back to the living room. I followed her, but my mind was racing.

Something wasn't right. I could feel it in my bones. But what could I do? Tara had shut me out, and the others didn't seem to notice— or care. I felt helpless, a weight settling in my chest as I rejoined the group.

As the night went on, the laughter and chatter continued, but I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had taken root. And for the first time, I found myself questioning the bonds between us. What secrets were they hiding? And why did it feel like I was the only one in the dark?

The Present

Maybe I should have poked more into it that night.

The room around me seemed to blur, the edges fading as my thoughts spiralled into the past, dragging me down with them. I leaned against the edge of the desk, the gold locket still warm in my hand, its weight a cruel reminder of everything I had overlooked.

The photograph on the laptop was burned into my mind, an image that refused to fade no matter how hard I tried to push it away. Tara, trapped and vulnerable, surrounded by men I had trusted— or thought I could trust. Ahaan. His name echoed in my mind, louder than the pounding of my heart.

Ahaan, my friend. Someone I had trusted enough to share my life struggles, we were probably on our way to building a strong friendship. And yet, there he was in that image, his arm possessively wrapped around Tara. The same Tara who had once pulled her sleeve down to hide a burn mark. The same Tara who had smiled brightly in front of us but had secrets too deep for me to unravel.

Did he always know who I was?

Everything about him now seemed like a lie. I was fooled.

I sat down heavily on the bed, my breathing uneven as the weight of it all pressed against my chest. It wasn't just the photograph. It was everything— the burn marks, the silences, the moments when questions were met with deflections. I thought back to that evening at Sahil and Abhimanyu's apartment, to how the air had grown tense when I had made a comment about reporters and their relentless pursuit of truth.

It wasn't that I hadn't noticed. I had. But I had chosen not to press.

I wasn't clueless back then. I had chosen to be clueless.

The realization hit me like a blow. I had let myself be swept along, too comfortable in the familiarity of our group to dig deeper. Tara, Sahil, Abhimanyu— they had shut me out, but I had allowed it. I had brushed aside my instincts, convincing myself that whatever they were dealing with was none of my business.

And now, years later, I was holding a piece of their hidden world in my hands.

The locket glinted in the soft light of the bedside lamp, deceptively innocent. But the chip it had concealed told a story I wasn't sure I was ready to uncover. How long had it been there, hidden beneath Abhimanyu's photo? Had he meant for me to find it, or had it slipped out by chance?

My stomach churned at the thought of him. Abhimanyu, the man I had loved, the man I had mourned. He had given me this locket as a gift, a token of our bond, his last gift to me. But now, it felt like something entirely different— a key to a truth he hadn't been able to share.

Did he know about Ahaan?

Or worse, had he known about everything?

I pressed the locket against my chest, my fingers trembling as I tried to steady my breathing. It was all too much. The photograph, the questions, the suffocating weight of a past I hadn't fully understood.

Had Sahil known, too?

The thought made my blood run cold. Sahil, with his easy laughter and teasing quips. Sahil, who had always been the glue holding us together. If he had known about this, what else had he been hiding? And why had he never told me?

The night suddenly felt oppressive, the walls of my room closing in around me. I stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room as my thoughts raced. The memory of that photograph wouldn't leave me. Tara's strained expression. The room's dim, sordid lighting. And the three men who had no right to be anywhere near her.

Rishabh Jaiswal. Utkarsh Patil. Ahaan Chahal.

Their names felt like poison on my tongue.

I thought back to Ahaan, the charismatic CEO who had always seemed so composed, so unshakeable. Had I missed something? Some sign, some crack in his polished exterior? Or had he hidden his true self so well that even those closest to him had been deceived?

The locket's weight shifted in my hand as I paced. The memory chip had held only one image, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't the end of the story. There had to be more. Abhimanyu had always been meticulous, and deliberate. He wouldn't have kept that photograph without a reason.

Unless it wasn't him who hid it there.

The thought stopped me in my tracks. What if it hadn't been Abhimanyu? What if it had been Sahil? The two of them had shared everything— secrets, plans, even the apartment where we had spent so many carefree evenings. Had Sahil slipped the chip into the locket after Abhimanyu's death, hoping I would find it one day?

Or had he hoped I wouldn't?

When did he even find it? Why after so many years?

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and hollow in the quiet room. I was spiralling, drowning in questions with no answers in sight. And yet, the photograph felt like a starting point, a thread I could pull to unravel the truth.

But what was I supposed to do with it?

I sat back down, the laptop still closed on the desk, a silent witness to my turmoil. My hands itched to open it again, to stare at the photograph until it made sense. But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Instead, I thought about Tara. Her laugh, her warmth, her unwavering kindness. And the moments when she had seemed distant, guarded. How many times had I seen the signs and ignored them? How many times had I chosen to believe the facade instead of trusting my instincts?

I pressed my palms against my face, frustration bubbling up inside me. It was too late to go back, too late to ask Tara the questions I should have asked years ago. Too late to demand answers from Sahil or Abhimanyu.

But it wasn't too late to uncover the truth.

The realization settled over me like a cold, heavy blanket. Whatever this was, whatever had happened to Tara, it wasn't over. The photograph was proof of that. And if Abhimanyu or Sahil had gone to such lengths to hide it, then it meant there was more at stake than I could comprehend.

I stood up, my resolve hardening with each passing second. I didn't know where this path would lead me, but I knew one thing with chilling certainty: I couldn't turn away now.

The secrets that had been hidden for so long were mine to uncover. And no matter how painful or dangerous the truth might be, I owed it to Tara— and to myself— to find it.

This was only the beginning of the end.

The photograph burned in my mind, its horrifying details replaying over and over as I paced the length of my room. My chest felt tight, and my breathing was uneven. I wasn't sure what to do next, but I knew I couldn't keep this to myself.

Kabir.

Yes, Kabir. He was the only one I could trust with something this big. The image of Tara— trapped, violated— was too much for me to bear alone. Kabir would know what to do, or at least, he'd help me figure it out.

I glanced at the laptop on my desk, now all closed and innocent, as if it wasn't holding the key to something sinister. Carefully, I removed the memory chip from the reader and tucked it back into the locket. My fingers trembled as I secured it, my mind racing with possibilities. Who had hidden the chip? Why had it been kept a secret? And most importantly, did it really mean what it was trying to show?

Snapping the locket shut, I placed it in the back of my closet drawer and locked it securely. My instincts told me to keep it hidden, at least until I knew more.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my saree and stepped out of my room. The sounds of laughter and music from the Dandiya gathering downstairs greeted me, a sharp contrast to the turmoil in my mind. As I made my way down the staircase, I could feel the weight of the secret I carried pressing against me.

I scanned the crowd, my eyes searching for Kabir. It wasn't hard to find him; his laughter carried over the chatter, rich and full of life. My heart clenched as I saw him standing with Maan and a few other men, talking animatedly.

I navigated through the clusters of people, dodging well-meaning relatives and neighbours who wanted to stop and chat. When I finally reached him, Kabir turned and spotted me. His face lit up instantly, his smile warm and inviting.

"Meher!" he called out, beckoning me closer. "Come, I want you to meet my school friends."

I forced a smile, stepping into the small circle. Kabir's arm brushed against mine as he turned to introduce me, his pride evident in the way he spoke about me. It was moments like these that reminded me of why I'd fallen for him in the first place.

"This is Meher, my wife," Kabir said, his voice tinged with pride. "Meher, these are Akshay and Raghav and I don't think Maan needs an introduction— we go way back to school days."

I faintly recalled their faces as they often came to our house after school when we were young.

The men greeted me warmly, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air. I nodded politely and greeted them, making some small talk but my focus was on Kabir, on finding the right moment to pull him aside and tell him everything.

But before I could speak, Maan clapped Kabir on the shoulder and said, "We've been planning a full-day trip tomorrow. Kabir's finally agreed to come along, and now all we need is your permission, Meher."

His words caught me off guard. A trip? Tomorrow?

I looked at Kabir, who met my gaze with a small, tentative smile. His eyes shone with excitement, the kind of light I hadn't seen in them for a while. It was clear that he wanted to go, that this outing meant something to him.

For a moment, I was torn. I needed to tell him about the photograph, about the memory chip hidden in the locket. But as I stood there, watching him laugh with his friends, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not now. Not when he was so happy.

The weight of the secret pressed against me, but I forced myself to smile. "Of course, he can go, he doesn't need my permission," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Kabir looked at me in surprise. Maybe he had thought I would refuse.

"You sure?" he mouthed the words.

I nodded, giving him an encouraging smile.

Kabir's smile widened, and he squeezed my hand briefly before turning back to his friends. They launched into plans for the trip, their voices a cheerful hum in the background as I stood there, my thoughts spiralling.

I tried to convince myself that waiting was the right decision. Kabir deserved this moment, this bit of happiness. He'd been through so much, and I couldn't bring myself to ruin it with something so heavy, so dark.

I will tell him tomorrow evening when he comes back. Yes, that would be the right thing to do.

As Kabir and his friends continued talking, I stood by his side, nodding and smiling when required. But my mind was elsewhere, locked on the photograph and the questions it had raised.

I had to do something.

The night felt heavier now, the music and laughter around me a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside. But I had made my decision. Tomorrow, once Kabir returns from his trip, I will tell him everything.

For now, I would carry this burden alone.

Dun Dun Dun and we are back with yet another chapter. Well, I am in the process of writing another one as well, so you guys might get to see it in a day or two if I complete it soon. I am on an uploading streak, considering my ideas are flowing constantly as we are nearing the end. A few more chapters to go, I guess.

Meher did not tell Kabir. Will that be a problem?

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Another new story will be launching right after Every Flame ends. Any guesses who it might be for?

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

With Love,

Akii.