Arav:
I sat with him on a bench in the park, watching him closely. He looked to be around 30 years old, and I was eager to learn what was going on between him and Indu.
"So, what's going on between you and Indu? I told you I'm her boyfriend. Why can't you just leave her alone?"
I could sense that he already knew everything about her. "No, you're not," he said calmly. "I know you're just covering for her."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Sudhakar," he replied. "I'm a writer. I was in Canada until recently, and I came back to India a few months ago. The first time I saw Indu was three months ago, at the airport. I can't say whether it was love at first sight or something else, but after that, we kept bumping into each other, purely by accident."
He paused before continuing, his tone more serious. "Every time I start a new novel, I look for fresh experiences to inspire my writing. When I saw Indu, she became my muse. I didn't even realize how deeply I had fallen for her until, one day, I felt like I wasn't good enough for her. All I ever wanted was for her to have the best in life, so I stopped seeing her. But she didn't stop pursuing me. And since I didn't know what else to do, I did something drastic that shattered her world."
His confession hung in the air, and my tension grew. "What did you do?" I asked, eager to know.
"I hired a woman to act like I was double-dating, to make it seem like I wasn't serious about her," he explained, his voice steady. "It worked—at first. But eventually, she found out it was all an act. By that time, I was missing her terribly. I tried to explain everything, but nothing I said could fix it."
I stared at him, wondering if people like him really existed. Who would go to such lengths for someone they claimed to love? Was he telling the truth?
"Can I ask you for a favor?" he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
"What is it?"
"Can I get her number? The one I have doesn't work anymore."
I pulled out my phone and checked the number he had. It was her second number. After a moment's hesitation, I saved Indu's current number into his phone and handed it back to him.
I was about to leave for Indu's room when he stopped me. "Wait, one more favor," he asked, his tone even more desperate now. "Can I see her? Just once."
I hesitated, unsure whether I should allow it, but finally agreed. "Okay, but only for 10 minutes."
His face lit up with excitement as I led him to Indu's room. She was sleeping soundly. He gently held her hand, bringing it to his cheek, and I could see just how much he had missed her. The emotion on his face was undeniable.
I stepped out of the room to give him a moment, and within five minutes, he quietly left. For safety's sake, I spent the night on the couch in the living room. I knew I couldn't rest until things between Indu and me were cleared up.
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I opened my eyes and saw Indu staring at me, her gaze sharp and intense as if she were about to attack me. Startled, I sat up quickly on the couch.
"Why did you let him in?" she suddenly screamed, her voice full of fury. Fear crept over me.
"What happened, babe? Did he hurt you?" I asked, trying to calm her down, genuinely concerned.
"You don't understand!" she cried, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. "I hate myself for falling for him, and I hate him even more for what he's done!"
"What's really going on, Indu?" I asked gently, hoping to ease her pain.
"He cares too much—so much that he's willing to sacrifice everything for me," she said, tears spilling down her face. "But he never asked what I wanted! He just assumed what's best for me without even considering my feelings."
She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her tears mixing with the steady flow of water from her nose. I pulled her into a hug. "You're strong, Indu," I whispered. "I've seen you overcome so many challenges. I believe in you, and I'll always support whatever you decide. You can do what's best for you."
I spoke with a sense of pride, hoping to give her some strength.
Later, when I returned home, I found my dad sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. I knew there had always been clashes between my parents, but ever since the day my mom left, I noticed how much he missed her. His eyes lingered on all the things that were once her favorites. The objects she had loved now seemed to carry a new meaning for him—he had started caring for them, as if keeping them alive would somehow keep her close.
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Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but still, Mom hadn't come back from Nana's house. I was beginning to fear that Krishna Murthy's words might come true—that Mom would send a divorce notice to Dad. Before things reached that point, I needed to find a way to bring them back together.
I was about to head to Indu's office when I noticed Raju uncle wasn't feeling well. With no other option, I booked an Uber bike to get there. After reaching the office and paying the fare, I turned around to head inside when, out of nowhere, a man in a black jacket riding a bike sped towards me. He hit me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My forehead throbbed, and when I touched it, I felt the warm trickle of blood.
Though I couldn't see the man's face clearly, I caught a glimpse of his eyes—wrinkled at the corners as if he was smiling or satisfied with what he'd done. He sped off, leaving me dazed. Slowly, I felt my consciousness slipping away.
When I opened my eyes again, my hand instinctively went to my forehead, where the first aid had already been done. Indu was standing beside me, her face filled with worry.
"Who did this to you?" she asked softly, her concern evident.
"I don't know," I replied. "He didn't even have a license plate."
Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen—it was Mom. My heart raced. Had she somehow heard about the accident?
I answered the call, her voice as sweet as ever. "Pack your things," she said gently. "I've asked Raju to bring you here."
I had been longing to see her for so long, and now I finally had the chance. But what if she noticed the injury? I had no choice. I left Indu's office and went home to pack my things, hoping to hide the truth from Mom as best as I could.
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It was 7 a.m. when we started early, before breakfast, eager to see Mom and my grandfather. I missed them both deeply, especially my grandfather.
In three hours, we arrived at Shivanasamudra, a place famous for its waterfalls, lush greenery, and the refreshing monsoon climate. It had been so long since I'd last visited, and the nostalgia hit me as I approached the house.
As we pulled up, I saw Mom in the garden, wearing a pink saree with purple flowers. It had been ages since I'd seen her dressed like this—she usually stuck to formal attire. For a moment, it felt like I was back in my childhood. I couldn't resist, so I ran to her and hugged her from behind.
She turned around with a beautiful smile, but her expression quickly shifted when she noticed the wound on my forehead. Concern filled her eyes.
"What happened, Arav?" she asked, worried.
"It's nothing. I hit a wall while running too fast," I lied, trying to brush it off. But she knew me too well.
"Don't lie to me. I'm your mom," she said firmly, but before she could press further, the maids arrived to ask about breakfast. Grateful for the distraction, I slipped away before she could question me again.
Then I remembered why I had rushed here. "Mom, where's Grandpa?" I called from a distance.
"He's in his room!" she shouted back. I headed upstairs to find him.
The house hadn't changed at all. It was the same as when I last visited at eight years old, down to the old wooden furniture. I remember all giggling when i was playing around here.
The stairs, I checked each room, one by one. There were five bedrooms, all meticulously maintained. I reached the last room and found the door closed. Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open. I instinctively stepped back.
And there he was—Prem. I never expected to see him here, standing right in front of me. He was wearing a traditional South Indian outfit: a white shirt with a panche. The shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the top two buttons undone, exposing his collarbone and hinting at the skin beneath. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him, overwhelmed and caught off guard.
Panicking, I turned and tried to walk away quickly, but I tripped. Before I hit the ground, Prem caught me from behind. I looked up into his eyes, only to be drawn toward the undone buttons on his shirt. There was a strange, almost electrifying tension between us.
In that moment, it felt like both I and the button near to his chest were struggling for our lives by Prem. He pulled me closer to help me regain my balance, and my body pressed against his. I could hear both our breaths—his calm, mine shaky. Suddenly, he leaned in and, without warning, bit my ear.
A hot rush of sensation swept through my body, and I bolted from him, running down the stairs. My heart was racing, and I felt like I had just escaped something dangerous. But as I reached the bottom of the stairs, a maid came out of the room I had just left. Confused, I stopped her and asked, "Is Prem upstairs?"
She looked puzzled. "No, no one's up there. I just finished cleaning the rooms," she replied.
I exhaled, relieved yet unsure if what I had just experienced was real or an illusion.
Before I could think too much, Mom came to me, smiling. "Arav, wait a minute. Let me introduce you to someone."
My heart pounded again. Please, not him, I thought. But before she could even call out, Prem descended the staircase, this time adjusting his panche around his waist, his legs clearly visible. I noticed the maids around us sneaking glances at him and giggling. It irritated me beyond words.
"Arav, this is Prem," Mom said. "Prem, this is Arav. I think you've met before, but you might have forgotten."
My heart sank. Did she know about what happened?
Prem smirked and, in a teasing tone, said, "No, I only know Nani, not Arav."
"What did you just say?" I hissed, stepping on his foot to stop him from revealing more.
"Mom, I'm starving," I quickly said, hoping to divert her attention. She smiled and hurried into the kitchen to prepare food.
As soon as she was gone, I shot Prem an irritated glare. He stood there, smug, enjoying every second of my discomfort. I couldn't stand that he was here, in my space, making everything more complicated.