Saroj, 28, sat slouched at his desk in a dimly lit corporate office in Bhubaneswar, Odisha. The glow of his monitor highlighted the dark circles under his eyes, remnants of sleepless nights. For months, he'd been trapped in a cycle of work and numbness, the weight of unspoken emotions dragging him deeper into despair.
This morning, the monotony shattered.
A new email sat in his inbox, the sender's name sending a jolt through his chest: **Asha. His wife.**
With trembling hands, Saroj clicked on it. A single attachment stared back at him. **Divorce Notice.**
His eyes scanned the words, though they barely registered. Every sentence carved into his chest like a knife. After months of distance, silence, and arguments, Asha had made it official. Their marriage, the one thing he had clung to, was over.
By afternoon, Saroj hadn't moved from his seat. The sounds of office chatter faded into a dull hum. His mind was a whirlwind of guilt and anger. *How had it come to this? Where did I fail?*
At 6 PM, as the office emptied, his phone buzzed. The name on the screen made him pause: **Akash.**
Akash had been his closest childhood friend, but they hadn't spoken in years. Saroj stared at the phone for a moment before answering.
"Saroj," Akash's familiar voice crackled through, warm yet tinged with hesitation. "I heard you're in Bhubaneswar. Let's meet. Tea stall near the old park?"
The tea stall. Memories of simpler days tugged at Saroj. Reluctantly, he agreed.
---
The tea stall was a relic of the past, with its rickety wooden benches and the faint aroma of chai mingling with the scent of damp earth. Akash was already there, waving him over with a broad smile.
"Still the same old Saroj," Akash teased as Saroj sat down, his shoulders hunched.
Saroj tried to muster a smile, but it faltered. They made small talk at first, their conversation dipping into childhood anecdotes. For a fleeting moment, Saroj felt a spark of warmth. But then Akash's tone shifted.
"So," he asked gently, "how's Asha?"
The question hit like a gut punch. Saroj looked away, his voice breaking. "She sent me divorce papers. It's over."
Akash frowned, his face clouding with concern. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know things had gotten that bad."
"It's my fault," Saroj muttered. "Everything I touch falls apart. My marriage, my life… I can't even escape my own damn head."
Akash leaned forward, his gaze steady. "Saroj, you've been blaming yourself for everything. This isn't just about Asha, is it?"
Saroj tensed. "What do you mean?"
"Bikram," Akash said softly. "You've been holding onto him for years. That night… it's killing you."
The name sent a shiver down Saroj's spine. "Bikram was my best friend. I couldn't save him," Saroj said, his voice cracking.
Akash sighed, his expression unreadable. "Saroj… Bikram doesn't exist."
Saroj froze. "What?"
Akash hesitated, then spoke carefully. "I don't know what you remember, but none of us do. It's like… he was never there. After that night, it was as if he vanished, not just from the world but from our memories. I've asked others — friends, classmates, even family. No one remembers him. Only you."
Saroj's heart raced. "That's not possible! We were all there that night. You were there! Don't tell me you've forgotten!"
Akash rubbed his temple, his frustration evident. "I don't know what to say, Saroj. I've tried to remember. But when I think about that night… all I see is darkness. A void. It's like something — or someone — doesn't want us to remember."
Saroj's voice rose, trembling with desperation. "He was real! Bikram was my friend! We grew up together, played cricket, shared everything. You can't just erase someone like that!"
Akash's expression softened. "I'm not saying you're lying. I'm saying… maybe you're the only one who can still see him. And maybe… there's a reason for that."
Saroj stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the pavement. "You think I'm crazy? That I made him up?!"
"No," Akash said firmly, standing to face him. "I think you're haunted. By him. By that night. And whatever happened out there, on that hill…" Akash trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe it doesn't want you to let go."
Saroj's breathing quickened, his thoughts spiraling. "You don't understand! I saw what happened. I saw her!"
"Her?" Akash asked, alarmed.
Saroj's voice dropped to a trembling murmur. "The woman. The witch. She killed Bikram. I tried to stop her, but I couldn't."
Akash paled but didn't reply. The silence between them grew heavy, suffocating. Without another word, Saroj stormed away, leaving Akash standing alone under the flickering light of the tea stall.
---
Saroj wandered the streets, his mind reeling. *Why doesn't anyone remember him? Why only me?*
He ended up at a bar, drowning his confusion in alcohol. But the memories refused to stay buried.
The hilltop. The full moon. The twisted figure of the woman, her hair wild and her face contorted in rage. Her hands around Bikram's neck.
Saroj gripped the table, his knuckles white. The past clawed at him, relentless.
"Sir," the waiter interrupted gently, "we're closing."
Saroj stumbled out into the cold night, his mind still trapped in that moment.
As he walked, headlights blinded him. A truck sped by, its horn blaring. Saroj froze, bracing for the impact. But when he opened his eyes, everything was different.
The air was warmer, the streets unfamiliar. Gas lamps lined the roads, and familiar voices echoed in the distance.
He wasn't in the present anymore. He was back in the past.
The month before the accident. The month before everything went wrong.
*This is my chance,* Saroj thought. But deep inside, a darker question loomed.
*What if I can't change anything?*
---