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Nandini parked her scooty in the parking area, muttering to herself as she walked. “Boss hai toh kya kuch bhi bolega…faltu ki beizzati ho gayi staff ke samne,” she grumbled, clearly annoyed by her recent encounter at work.

[“Just because he’s the boss, he can say whatever he wants… I got humiliated in front of the staff,”]

Distracted, she didn't notice the small stone in her path until she accidentally kicked it. The stone flew straight toward a man walking ahead of her and struck him on the back of his head.

“Ouchh!!” The man exclaimed, turning around sharply. “Kon badtameez hai—” he started but paused when he recognized her. Vedant’s expression softened into one of resigned amusement.

[“Ouchh!!Who is this ill-mannered person—”]

“Miss Nandini Mathur,” he said with a sigh, “mujhe laga hi tha aap hongi kyunki mujhe pareshan karne ka sara theka to aapne hi utha rakha hai.” He shook his head, as if this were a typical encounter between them.

[“Miss Nandini Mathur, I thought it would be you because you seem to have taken up the entire responsibility of bothering me.”]

Nandini flashed a sheepish smile. “I am sorry, Vedant. Wo galti se lag gayi,” she apologized, looking genuinely remorseful.

[“I am sorry, Vedant. That hit was accidental,”]

Vedant's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Kya kaha tumne abhi?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

[“What did you just say?”]

“Kya?” Nandini asked, now confused by his reaction.

[“What?”]

“I mean, tumne sorry kaha… unbelievable!” Vedant remarked, still stunned by the unexpected apology.

[“I mean, you said sorry… unbelievable!”]

Nandini crossed her arms and huffed, “Mai kisi ka ehsaan nahi rakhti. Aapne uss din sorry kaha tha mujhe, maine aaj keh diya.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her frustration was still apparent.

[“I don’t keep anyone’s favors. You said sorry that day, so I said it today.”]

Vedant studied her face, noticing her usual spark was missing. “Kya hua? Tumhara mood sahi nahi lag raha?” he asked with concern as they began walking together.

[“What happened? You don’t seem to be in a good mood?”]

Nandini sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. “Wo Buddha… kal sar mein itna dard tha ki ek file ki information usse nahi de payi, toh mar gaya budhau.” Her tone was filled with frustration, and Vedant could tell she was venting.

[“That old man… yesterday my head was hurting so much that I couldn’t give him the information for a file, so he got really angry.”]

Vedant’s eyes widened in exaggerated horror. “What? Tum ek kaam bhul gayi toh wo mar gaya… ohh God, RIP.” He clasped his hands together in mock prayer, earning an eye-roll from Nandini.

[“What? You forgot one task and he got so angry… oh God, RIP.”]

“Arre, pagal hain kya? Mar gaya means gussa ho gaya! Aur sabke samne meri insult kar di. I don't know why he is always behind me. Agar mujhe apna parlour na kholna hota toh uske wahan kaam bhi na karti.” Nandini clarified, her voice rising as she recounted the humiliating experience.

[“Oh, are you crazy? ‘Mar gaya’ means he got angry! And he insulted me in front of everyone. I don't know why he is always behind me. If I didn’t have to open my own parlour, I wouldn’t even work there.”]

Vedant chuckled softly, shaking his head again. “Tumhari language hi aisi hai, meri kya galti?” he teased, though he knew better than to laugh at her misery.

[“It’s just your way of speaking, what can I do?”]

Nandini groaned, “Haan, wahi, isliye dimag kharab ho gaya poora.” She rubbed her temples, as if trying to massage away the stress.

[“Yes, that’s why my mind is completely messed up.”]

“But it was your mistake,” Vedant pointed out, his tone turning serious. “Tumhe at least call kar ke inform karna chahiye tha. Tumhari ek galti se unke office ka kaam ruk sakta hai. Toh kya unka gussa hone ka bhi haq nahi?” He wasn't trying to be harsh, but he wanted her to see the situation from another perspective.

[“But it was your mistake,You should have at least called to inform them. Your one mistake could delay their office work. So don’t they have the right to be angry.”]

Nandini stopped walking and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Aap se yahi umeed thi. Aap toh meri hi galti nikalenge,” she snapped, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of hurt.

[“I expected this from you. You would point out my mistake,”]

Vedant raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Galti kya? Mai to bas keh raha hun ki tumhe inform kar dena chahiye tha. Tumhari ek galti se unke office ka kaam ruk sakta hai, toh kya unka gussa hone ka bhi haq nahi?” His tone was calm, but firm, trying to reason with her.

[“What mistake? I’m just saying that you should have informed them. Your one mistake could delay their office work, so don’t they have the right to be angry?” His tone was calm but firm, trying to reason with her.]

Nandini threw her hands up in the air. “Khair, mera already ganda mood hai. Aur mujhe rona aa raha hai. Toh aapse baat karke mujhe apna aur dimaag kharab nahi karna,” she declared dramatically, turning on her heel to walk away. But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she felt a gentle tug on her hand.

[“Anyway, I’m already in a bad mood. And I feel like crying. So I don’t want to make my head worse by talking to you,” she declared dramatically, turning on her heel to walk away. But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she felt a gentle tug on her hand.”]

“Acha, acha, sorry,” Vedant said quickly, reaching out to gently grasp her hand as she tried to walk away. His touch was light, yet it held her in place, a quiet plea lingering in the air. “Mera tumhe aur gussa dilane ka irada nahi tha.” His voice softened, concern woven through each word as his gaze searched her face, hoping to calm the storm he could see brewing in her eyes.

(“Okay, okay, sorry,” Vedant said quickly, reaching out to gently grasp her hand as she tried to walk away. His touch was light, yet it held her in place, a quiet plea lingering in the air. “I didn’t intend to make you more angry.” His voice softened, concern woven through each word as his gaze searched her face, hoping to calm the storm he could see brewing in her eyes.)

Nandini halted, the warmth of his hand against hers sending a soft shiver through her. She turned to face him, her irritation still simmering, but it was hard to ignore the sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her as if her emotions truly mattered to him. For a moment, they stood there, the world around them fading as their eyes locked. There was something unspoken in the way Vedant's gaze held hers—something tender, almost protective.

.

Vedant, too, felt a shift in the air between them. The stubborn edge in her eyes softened, replaced by something that made his heart skip a beat. He held her gaze, silently conveying his apology, his hand still lingering on hers, unwilling to let go. The closeness of the moment, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly, made him wonder if there was more to this exchange than just words.

“Thik hai,” she murmured softly, her voice carrying a note of acceptance. In that moment, something shifted between them, an unspoken connection that lingered long after the words had faded, leaving them standing there, hand in hand, in the gentle embrace of the evening light “hath to chhoriye mera.” Nandini said awkwardly.

“Ohh, sorry.” Vedant quickly released her hand, realizing he had been holding it longer than necessary. His touch lingered in the air for a moment as Nandini stepped back, her gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable.

As she walked away, the soft click of her heels on the pavement echoed between them, but Vedant remained rooted in place, his eyes following her retreating figure.

An unknown smile crept onto his lips as he watched her go, a warmth blooming in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. The simple touch of her hand, the way her eyes had softened for just a moment, these fleeting moments replayed in his mind, leaving him standing there, lost in thought long after she had disappeared from view.

***************************************

The classroom buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter. Akshat sat at his desk, flipping through a book, seemingly oblivious to the noise around him. His sharp eyes, however, missed nothing.

The door creaked open, and Amrit hesitated at the threshold, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. The moment she entered, Akshat’s gaze snapped up, pinning her in place.

"Sir, may I come in?" she said, her voice trembling slightly as she interrupted him.

Akshat's eyes narrowed. "Is this your school, Miss Amrit Tripathi?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"No, sir," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Then why are you asking like a fourth-grade kid? Just get inside and sit in your place," he snapped, his words cutting through the room's ambient noise.

"Sorry, sir," she muttered under her breath, "Thode aram se baat kar lenge toh jubaan kat jayegi kya!"

[If he spoke a bit calmly, would his tongue fall off!]

"What did you say?" Akshat's sharp ears caught her muttering, and he looked up, fixing her with a stern look.

Amrit's heart skipped a beat, and she shook her head nervously. "Nothing, sir."

"Gaay ki tarah sar hilana band kariye... I need words," he demanded, his patience clearly wearing thin.

[Stop nodding like a cow. I need words.]

"No, sir," she stammered, before rushing to her seat, her face burning with embarrassment.

The classroom buzzed with a mix of nervous energy and quiet confidence as Akshat scanned the room. "So everyone, ready for the test?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the students. Some, like Vidya, bit their nails in worry, while others, including Amrit, smiled confidently.

"Bhai, mereko dikha diyo," Vidya whispered, her voice laced with anxiety. Amrit nodded in agreement.

[“Hey, show me the answers.”]

"But first, change your seats," Akshat ordered, and the students shuffled around, placing their bags on his table.

Once everyone was settled, he distributed the test papers. Just as he finished, Amrit's phone rang, slicing through the tense silence.

"Whose phone is this?" Akshat's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. Amrit felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, but she didn't speak up.

"I asked something!" Akshat's voice boomed, making her flinch. Trembling, she raised her hand.

"Of course!" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Go and switch off that damn phone." He waved her away, irritation clear in his tone.

Amrit hurried to her bag, her heart racing. As she pulled out her phone, she frowned seeing her mother's name on the screen. Her mother never called during class time, knowing her schedule well. This had to be important.

The phone rang again, and Amrit hesitated before picking it up. "Haan, Maa?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice low.

Suddenly, her face turned pale, and her hand trembled. The phone nearly slipped from her grasp, but she managed to hold on. Without another word, she grabbed her bag and rushed out of the classroom, leaving everyone in shock and Akshat seething with anger.

"Badteemez!" he muttered under his breath, glaring at the door.

[“Mannerless!”]

Vidya didn't waste a second. Sensing something was wrong, she grabbed her bag and hurried after her best friend, her heart pounding with worry.

Vidya caught up to Amrit, who was trembling uncontrollably. "Amrit, kya hua?" she asked, concern etched across her face.

"Pa...pados ki Neeta aunty ne call kiya tha... she's saying that Mumma is in critical condition. Hospital mein admit hain," Amrit managed to say between sobs.

"Shh! Don't panic, Amrit... aunty will be fine," Vidya said, pulling her friend into a comforting hug. Together, they rushed to the hospital.

Upon arrival, they hurried to the reception where Neeta aunty, their neighbor, was waiting. Amrit's eyes were wide with fear and desperation. "Aunty, Mumma kahan hain?" she asked frantically.

Neeta aunty's face was solemn as she replied, "She’s in the ICU, beta." She took a deep breath before continuing, "The doctors said she has late-stage pancreatic cancer. It’s one of those types that often goes undiagnosed until it's too late. By the time she got checked, it had already spread too far. They told her she had only about a month left."

Amrit stumbled back, her legs weak with shock. Vidya quickly grabbed her, supporting her friend as she felt the world crashing down around her.

At that moment, a doctor approached them, his expression grave. "Are you Mrs. Tripathi's daughter?" he asked gently.

Amrit nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, doctor. How is she?"

The doctor sighed, his eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm afraid your mother’s condition has deteriorated rapidly. The cancer has spread extensively, and her body is no longer responding to treatment. She has only a few minutes left."

Amrit's legs gave way, and she would have fallen if not for Vidya's steadying grip. "No... nothing will happen to Mumma," she muttered, tears streaming down her face.

The doctor waited patiently, giving them a moment before softly adding, "If you wish to say your goodbyes, now would be the time.”

As they walked towards the ICU, Amrit's tears flowed freely, her mind reeling from the news. "Vidya, what the hell are they saying? Mumma ko kuch kaise ho sakta hai? They all are lying," she cried, her voice full of despair.

"Amrit, we should meet aunty first," Vidya said softly, guiding her friend into the ICU.

The room was filled with the steady hum of medical machines. Komal lay on the hospital bed, her face pale and gaunt. Tubes and wires surrounded her, connected to various monitors beeping rhythmically. Her breaths were shallow and laboured. As they approached, Komal's eyes fluttered open, and she whispered her daughter's name, "Amru..."

"Mumma!!" Amrit cried out, rushing to her side. She collapsed onto the floor, clutching her mother's hands. "How could you be so careless, Mumma? You know how scared I was. And... and that doctor... wo log pagal ho gaye hain... they are saying that... that you have only a few minutes left. Aise thodi hota hai... tell them that you could never leave me. Aapke alawa mera hai hi kon yahan," she choked out, her voice breaking.

Komal's weak hand reached out to caress Amrit's tear-streaked face. "Amru beta... doctors are right... I have only a few minutes left. I am so sorry, baccha," Komal whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.

"No, Mumma! What rubbish! Kuch nahi hoga aapko..." Amrit protested, her heart refusing to accept the reality.

Komal's hand slipped from Amrit's grasp, falling limply by her side. The heart monitor emitted a steady, flat tone, indicating the cessation of her heartbeat. The medical staff rushed in, but it was too late. The doctor, after a quick examination, solemnly nodded to confirm what Amrit feared most.

Amrit felt as if the ground had been pulled from under her. She was numb, unable to process the enormity of the loss. She stared at her mother's lifeless body, disbelief etched on her face. "Mumma," she called out softly, her voice cracking.

She continued to call her mother's name, her hands shaking her gently, hoping for a miracle. "Mumma, please wake up... Mumma..."

Vidya, her own eyes filled with tears, wrapped her arms around Amrit, trying to offer some comfort. But Amrit was inconsolable. She felt a hollowness in her chest, an ache so deep it seemed unbearable. Her sobs grew louder, echoing through the sterile hospital room as she clung to her mother’s hand, unwilling to let go.

Amrit's tears fell like rain as she clung to her mother's lifeless hand. "Vidya, inse bol na ki ye mazak na karen... Please, Mumma yaar... I promise abse koi shaitani nahi karungi, na hi koi shikayat ka mauka dungi kisi ko bhi. I will behave properly and bachpana bhi nahi karungi. But please... please open your eyes," she sobbed, her voice breaking with desperation.

Vidya knelt beside her, tears streaming down her own face. "Amrit, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Just then, the doctor entered the room, followed by a nurse. They moved towards Komal's bedside, their faces grave. The doctor gently moved Amrit aside, who resisted at first, but Vidya held her, guiding her away.

The doctor checked for vital signs, his expression becoming more somber with each passing second. After a thorough examination, he turned to Amrit and Vidya. "I'm very sorry. She's no more," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy.

"No! No, that's not true! You're lying! Please, check again!" Amrit cried out, her voice raw with anguish. She broke free from Vidya's hold and rushed back to her mother, shaking her gently. "Mumma, wake up! You can't leave me! You said you wanted to see me become a writer. You promised to buy my first book. How could you leave me? There's no one else in this world for me... who will scold me when I make mistakes? Mumma, please!"

Her cries echoed through the room as she continued to plead with her mother, refusing to accept the reality. "I need you, Mumma. Who will take care of me? Who will love me like you do? You can't leave me like this. I can't do this without you!"

Vidya, heartbroken, tried to comfort Amrit but knew that nothing she could say would ease her pain.

Amrit looked up at Vidya, her eyes filled with tears and despair. "She can't be gone, Vidya. She just can't be. I need her. She was everything to me. I don't know how to live without her."

Vidya hugged her tightly, her own tears falling freely.

Amrit's sobs grew louder, her body shaking with grief. "Mumma, please come back. I can't do this without you. Please, don't leave me alone," she cried, her voice breaking.

Just then, the doors of the ICU swung open, and Amrit's aunt and uncle, Mahendra Tripathi and Sumitra Tripathi, entered. Sumitra immediately began wailing loudly, her cries echoing through the sterile room. "Haye bhabhi! Kya hogaya? Kaise chod ke chali gayi humein?" she cried, her voice exaggerated and insincere.

Amrit, still hugging her mother's lifeless body, was barely aware of their presence. Her sobs had turned into a quiet, heart-wrenching whimper, her tears soaking her mother's hospital gown.

Mahendra approached Amrit gently, his face a mixture of grief and concern. "Amrit beta, please calm down. We need to take your mother for the last rites," he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Amrit, too exhausted and overwhelmed, could barely comprehend his words. "No... she can't be gone. She promised she would be here for me," she murmured, her voice breaking.

Vidya, who was trying to support Amrit, looked at Mahendra with a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Uncle, Amrit is not in a state to make any decisions right now. Please give her some time," she pleaded.

"Hayee hayee kya ho gaya meri bhabhi ko! Amrit beta, please shant ho jaa... teri chachi hai na tere liye. Tu Bareilly chal, teri chachi tera pura khayal rakhegi," Sumitra said, her voice loud and dramatic, as she approached Amrit. Amrit, sitting numb, nodded her head slightly, not fully registering her words.

As the room continued to fill with Sumitra's loud, dramatic cries, Amrit's body finally gave in to the overwhelming grief and exhaustion. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted, collapsing into Vidya's arms.

"Amrit! Amrit, wake up!" Vidya cried, her voice filled with panic as she gently shook her friend. "Please, Amrit, wake up!"

The doctor and nurse rushed over, quickly assessing Amrit's condition. "She fainted from the shock and exhaustion. Let’s get her to a bed," the doctor said, signalling to the nurse to help.

They carefully moved Amrit to an empty bed in the room, while Vidya held onto her hand, whispering, "Please be okay, Amrit. I’m here with you."

Mahendra, watching the scene, turned to the doctor. "Doctor, we need to take her mother for the last rites. Can you help us with the arrangements?"

The doctor nodded. "We will handle the necessary paperwork," he said, trying to provide some comfort in the midst of the sorrow.

After completing the necessary paperwork, Amrit's uncle and aunt, along with some other family members, took her for last rites. Amrit sat beside her mother's body, hugging her tightly, her face pale and expressionless.

Mahendra gently approached her. "Beta, it's time for her last rites," he said softly.

"No... she won't go anywhere. She will be with me," Amrit said, clinging to her mother's body, her voice trembling.

"Amrit, please try to understand beta... unki aatma ko shanti milegi isse," Sumitra said, trying to persuade her.

"No... you can't take her away from me. Please... please let her be with me. Mumma, please tell them ki aap kahi nahi jaoge mujhe chhod kar," Amrit cried, her grip tightening.

Mahendra looked at Vidya, silently asking for help. Vidya nodded and knelt beside Amrit. "Amrit, she is not leaving you. Wo tere sath hi hongi, but this is important na," Vidya said gently, trying to separate her from her mother's body.

As the family members tried to move Komal's body, Amrit hugged her even tighter, not letting go. "No... I won't let her go... please... please, chacha ji... let her stay," she sobbed, her voice breaking with each word.

Mahendra, with a heavy heart, nodded to the others. They carefully but firmly started to lift Komal's body. Amrit, still clinging, was gently pulled away by Vidya, who held her tightly as she cried uncontrollably.

"Amrit, listen to me," Vidya whispered, her voice steady yet filled with emotion. "This is important for her. It's your duty to give her the last rites. She needs this peace, and so do you. She will always be with you, in your heart and in your memories. But you have to let her go now."

Amrit's sobs grew louder. "But Vidya, she's all I had. No one else will love me like she did. How can I do this without her?"

Vidya cupped Amrit's face, forcing her to look into her eyes. "Amrit, you are strong, and she raised you to be strong. She believed in you, and she would want you to honour her memory by doing this. It's your duty, and it's what she deserves."

Amrit's tears continued to flow, but Vidya's words began to seep into her heart. She nodded slowly, though the pain was still unbearable.

Amrit, still supported by Vidya, watched as her mother's body was placed on the bamboo bier (arathi), covered with a white cloth, and adorned with flowers. Her heart ached with every passing second, but she knew she had to fulfil her duty as a daughter.

Mahendra approached her gently. "Beta, we need to start the rituals. Are you ready?"

Amrit nodded, though her hands trembled. She stepped forward, and with Vidya's help, she picked up the earthen pot filled with water. Following the priest's instructions, she circled her mother's body three times, pouring water from the pot each time to symbolise the release of the soul from the physical body.

The priest, dressed in traditional attire, chanted Vedic hymns, invoking blessings and guiding the soul on its journey. He handed Amrit a small vessel of ghee, and she carefully poured it over the pyre, representing the purification of her mother's soul.

"Amrit beta, now place the rice and sesame seeds on your mother's eyes, mouth, and chest. This is to ensure her soul's nourishment in the afterlife," the priest instructed.

With shaking hands, Amrit followed the instructions, her tears mixing with the rice and sesame seeds. She then placed a coin on her mother's chest, a token to pay the ferryman to cross the river of the afterlife.

The priest continued to chant as family members gathered around. Mahendra handed Amrit a lit torch. "Beta, it's time to light the pyre. This is the final step in releasing her soul."

Amrit took the torch, her heart pounding. Vidya squeezed her hand, offering silent support. With a deep breath, Amrit lit the pyre at the head, a traditional act symbolising the release of her mother's soul. The flames began to rise, and Amrit whispered a final goodbye, feeling an overwhelming mix of sorrow and a sense of duty fulfilled.

As the flames consumed the pyre, the priest continued to chant prayers for her mother's soul's journey to the afterlife. Amrit stood there, her eyes fixed on the fire, tears streaming down her face. Vidya stood beside her, holding her hand, providing the silent strength she needed.

The house felt lifeless without her mother, every corner echoing with silence and grief. Amrit sat in a corner, her eyes empty, staring at the floor. Vidya was by her side, trying to convince her to eat something.

"I have informed everyone there. Bhabhi ke aatma ke shanti ki sari vidhi Bareilly mein hogi toh accha hoga. Wohi unka ghar hai," Mahendra said, his voice steady with a sense of purpose. "Sumitra, Amrit ka saman pack kar do."

Sumitra nodded. "Haan," she replied, her tone subdued as she moved to start packing.

Vidya turned to Amrit, her voice soft and gentle. "Amrit, please, at least pani hi pi le. Tu beemar pad jayegi."

Amrit shook her head, still staring at the floor. She was beyond tears now, her body and soul numb from the overwhelming grief.

Vidya took a deep breath and knelt in front of her. "Amrit, I know it's hard. I can't even imagine how much pain you're in right now. But you have to take care of yourself. For your mother. She wouldn't want to see you like this."

Amrit's eyes flickered slightly, but she didn't respond.

"Remember how she always made sure you were okay? How she would scold you if you skipped a meal? She loved you more than anything, and she would want you to be strong," Vidya continued, her voice filled with emotion.

Amrit's gaze finally lifted to meet Vidya's. "But I can't... It's too hard, Vidya," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Vidya gently placed a glass of water in Amrit's hands. "I know it is. But just one sip, Amrit. Do it for her. She would want you to take care of yourself."

Amrit hesitated, her fingers trembling around the glass. With a deep breath and a final look at Vidya, she brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip of water. It felt like a monumental effort, but she managed it.

After packing her belongings, the house felt even emptier. Every piece of Amrit's life was now crammed into a few suitcases, a painful reminder of how drastically everything had changed. Mahendra and Sumitra made the final arrangements, ensuring everything was ready for the journey to Bareilly.

Vidya walked Amrit to the car, her heart aching for her friend. She hugged Amrit tightly, whispering, "Take care of yourself, Amrit. Please remember I'm always here for you."

Amrit didn't react, her body stiff and unresponsive. She simply got inside the car, her eyes vacant, staring out of the window.

Inside the car, the silence was suffocating. Sumitra tried to make small talk, but it fell flat against the weight of the situation. Amrit remained silent, lost in her thoughts and grief, the familiar sights of her neighbourhood blurring past the window.

******************************************

Akshat came back home and headed straight to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. As he poured himself a glass of water, he noticed his mother, Vishakha, entering with a sad expression on her face.

"What happened, Maa? Aap pareshan lag rahe ho?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Wo Miss Komal ko jante ho na? She was the head chef here," Vishakha replied, her voice tinged with sorrow.

"Haan, she is my student's mother. Why?" Akshat asked, confused.

"She is no more. Aaj subah hi cancer ke karan death ho gayi unki. Mai unke antim sanskaar me hi gayi thi," Vishakha said, her words hitting Akshat like a punch to the gut.

He felt a deep ache in his heart, and for a moment, he was rendered speechless. He sat down in front of his mother, trying to process the news. "How... I... I mean she was fine kal tak... achanak se..." he stuttered, struggling to make sense of it.

"I am also shocked... she was such a good-hearted woman. I feel so bad for that girl... uska toh haal hi bura ho gaya tha," Vishakha said, her eyes filled with empathy.

"Amrit? Shit! Isliye woh class ke beech se bhag gayi thi," he said, realisation dawning on him. He put his hand on his head, feeling a wave of guilt and worry wash over him. "She is so innocent... I can't even imagine uspe kya beet rahi hogi," he added, deeply concerned for Amrit.

"Of course... Komal ji ne bataya tha ki unke alawa uss bechari ka koi hai bhi nahi," Vishakha said, shaking her head in sympathy. She then glanced at her watch and sighed. "I have to attend an online meeting," she said, and left the room, leaving Akshat alone with his thoughts.

Akshat sat there, lost in his thoughts, unable to shake the image of Amrit's tearful face from his mind. The weight of the news pressed heavily on him, and he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility. "Amrit..." he whispered to himself, feeling a pang of sorrow for the young girl who had just lost everything.

Akshat couldn't shake off the worry gnawing at him. Without wasting any time, he grabbed his car keys and headed straight to Amrit's home. As he pulled up to the familiar house, he was met with a locked door. His heart sank.

He noticed a few neighbours gathered nearby and approached them. "Excuse me, do you know where Amrit is?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.One of the neighbours, an elderly man, nodded sympathetically. "They left a little while ago with her family. They’re going to her hometown, Bareilly, for the last rites," he explained.

Akshat sighed, feeling a mix of relief that she was with family and frustration that he couldn't be there for her. "Thank you," he said, nodding to the man before heading back to his car.

******************************************

Krishiv was driving home, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the street. As he rounded a corner, his gaze fell upon a small figure huddled on the pavement, sobbing uncontrollably. His heart skipped a beat as he realised it was Bulbul.

Without hesitation, he slammed on the brakes and pulled over. He hurriedly got out of the car and rushed towards her, his concern evident in every step. Kneeling down in front of her, he placed his hand gently on her head, trying to offer comfort.

"Oye, little patakha, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and soothing. Bulbul looked up at him, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She reached out and wrapped her small arms around his neck, her tiny body trembling.

"Cheatel uncle..." she choked out, her voice barely more than a whisper as she clung to him. Krishiv held her close, his heart aching at the sight of her distress.

"Kya ho gaya, Bulbul? Kisi ne tumhe kuch kaha?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Bulbul's sobs made her words nearly incomprehensible, but Krishiv could catch snippets of her story. "Unki... chocolates bola... bag le gaya... gir gayi main... has... baalon khule... chhod diya," she managed to say between her cries. She struggled to form the words clearly, her baby voice making it difficult to understand.

Krishiv gently stroked her hair, his heart heavy with empathy. "Shh, it's okay. Just take your time," he said, trying to calm her down. From her fragmented explanation, he gathered that a group of older girls had bullied her. They had promised her chocolates and then snatched her bag when she approached them. When she tried to get it back, she fell, and they mocked her, pulling her hair and laughing before running away.

"It's alright, Bulbul. No one is going to hurt you now," Krishiv said firmly, trying to reassure her. He helped her to her feet, his expression a mix of anger and sadness at the thought of someone treating her so badly.

Krishiv looked at Bulbul, his concern growing. "Do you know their names?" he asked, hoping for more information. Bulbul hesitated, then shook her head.

"Thodu sa," she said, nodding her head slightly.

"Alright, then. Let’s go to your school," Krishiv decided, determined to address the issue.

Bulbul's eyes widened in worry. "No, no... Mumma will beat me. Unhone mana kiya tha strangers se baat karne ko, but still I went with didi log," she explained, her voice trembling.

Krishiv crouched down to her level, reassuring her. "We won’t tell her, okay? I promise. Let’s just sort this out," he said softly. Bulbul nodded hesitantly. Krishiv then gently picked her up and carried her to the car.

The drive to the school was quiet, with Bulbul resting her head on Krishiv’s shoulder. When they arrived, Krishiv carried her into the principal's office. He approached the receptionist and explained the situation, requesting to see the principal.

A short while later, they were ushered into the principal's office. The principal, a middle-aged woman with a stern but kind demeanour, looked up from her desk. "Good afternoon. How can I help you?" she asked.

"Principal Madam, this is Saumya Dixit. She was bullied by some older girls. I’d like to file a complaint," Krishiv said, his voice firm yet respectful.

The principal's eyes softened as she looked at Bulbul. "Aap kon hain? Are you Saumya's father?" she asked, noticing Bulbul’s distressed state.

Krishiv felt a jolt at the mention of the name. He and Bulbul exchanged puzzled glances. "Tell me, kis relation se mai complaint likhu?" the principal asked, looking between Krishiv and Bulbul.

Bulbul squeezed Krishiv’s hand and said, "Haan, he is my father."

Krishiv’s heart tightened at her declaration. He looked down at Bulbul, who was holding his hand with an earnest expression. The term “father” echoed in his mind, carrying a significance he hadn’t anticipated.

Krishiv looked at her, surprised by her statement but not contradicting it. The principal's eyes widened slightly in understanding. "Alright, Saumya, do you remember their faces?" she asked Bulbul gently.

Bulbul nodded, her eyes still tearful. "Haan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay, kal subah I will ask you in the assembly. Tab unka chehra pehchan na," the principal instructed, her tone firm but compassionate.

Bulbul nodded again, looking a little more reassured. The principal turned to Krishiv. "Alright, sir. I am so sorry that your daughter had to face this," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

Krishiv nodded, appreciating her concern. "Thank you. I just want to make sure this doesn’t happen again," he said.

He then took Bulbul’s hand and guided her out of the office. As they walked back to the car, Bulbul seemed more relaxed, comforted by the principal’s reassurance.

As they drove away from the school, Krishiv glanced at Bulbul, who was still looking a bit anxious. "Why did you lie inside? Shaitan?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Bulbul's eyes widened as she replied, "Alle then she would have asked you more questions and then call Mumma. Phir unko pata lag jayega."

Krishiv chuckled at her quick thinking. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, his tone gentle.

Bulbul shook her head, still looking troubled. "Kyun?" Krishiv asked, sensing her discomfort.

"If I complained about them, toh wo phir se pareshan karengi," she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Krishiv smiled, trying to encourage her. "But I thought Bulbul was a brave girl. I didn't know you were a darpok."

"I am not darpok! I am brave. Mumma says Bulbul is brave," she said, her voice filled with a mix of offence and determination.

"But brave girls kisi se nahi darte, aur yahan tum woh bullies se dar rahi ho. I don't believe you. Darpok Bulbul," Krishiv teased lightly.

Bulbul puffed out her cheeks in a pout. "I will face them... and I am not afraid. Me brave," she insisted, her voice firm despite her earlier anxiety.

Krishiv's smile widened at her determination. "See, aisi hoti hain na brave girls. Kal, I will come to your school. Un sabse mai khud baat karunga, so don't worry. Hmm?" he said, patting her head reassuringly.

Bulbul's face brightened. "You are good," she said, her tone softening.

"Am I?" Krishiv asked with a chuckle.

Bulbul nodded vigorously. "We can be flends," she said, extending her small hand towards him.

Krishiv raised an eyebrow playfully. "But I was a stranger for you, right?" he asked.

"You were... but now you are offered to be my flend. You are so lucky. I don’t make flends easily," she said proudly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and pride.

Krishiv laughed, shaking her hand with a mock bow. "Oh, I am honoured, ma'am," he said, his tone playful and warm.

Bulbul giggled, her mood clearly lifted.

Krishiv pulled up in front of Bulbul’s house and parked the car. As he stepped out, Bulbul followed him, her small hand gripping his. Kavya, spotted them from the doorway and hurried over, her expression a mix of concern and relief.

"Bulbul? Itna late kaise laga? Aur van se kyun nahi aayi?" Kavya asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Bulbul looked up at her mother with a practiced innocence. "Wo... Mumma, van chali gayi thi aur... he saw me on the road helpless and helped me," she explained, her acting flawless. Krishiv stifled a chuckle, watching the exchange with amusement.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Malhotra," Kavya said, her smile warm and grateful.

"It's all right," Krishiv replied, nodding politely.

Kavya took Bulbul’s hand. "Chalen?" she asked, guiding her daughter towards the house.

Bulbul turned and waved at Krishiv. He waved back, a smile tugging at his lips. As he watched them enter the house, something on the ground caught his eye. He bent down and picked up a small anklet, noticing its delicate design.

"Bulbul ki mummy," he said aloud, holding the anklet up.

Kavya turned, looking curious. "Ji?" she asked, stepping back out to see what was going on.

"Aapki payal," he said, offering it to her. Kavya’s face lit up with recognition and gratitude as she accepted the anklet from him.

"Thank you," she said, her voice filled with appreciation. She took the anklet and headed back inside, casting a final grateful glance at Krishiv.

Krishiv watched her enter. As he got back into his car, he found himself reflecting on Bulbul’s earlier words, where she had called him “father.” The unexpected familiarity of the term left him with a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

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