chapter 30

The memory shifted again. He saw himself at the university—busy, overwhelmed, but determined. He missed his family terribly, especially in the beginning. He called them every day, his mother’s voice always full of warmth, her first question always, “Are you eating properly?” His father would remind him to focus on his studies, while Shriya would tease him, asking if he’d found a girlfriend yet.But as time went on, the calls became less frequent. His studies consumed him, and the daily calls turned into weekly, and eventually monthly. Every time he spoke to them, they never complained. They only asked about him, his well-being, his health, his progress. They missed him, but they never let him feel their loneliness.Now, after years of hard work, his studies were finally over, and he was coming home. He had planned to surprise them, imagining the look of joy and disbelief on their faces when he’d walk through the door unannounced. He had thought of that moment every night as he packed his bags for the return flight.But that moment would never come.A sudden jolt snapped him out of his dream. The driver had braked sharply, bringing the cab to a halt.“Sir, is this the place?” the driver asked, glancing back at him.Rishabh blinked, momentarily disoriented. “Yes, this is it.”He stepped out of the cab and looked up at the house that had once been filled with laughter, warmth, and life. Now, it stood quiet, still, as if frozen in time. He swallowed hard, paid the driver, and slowly walked toward the front door. His hand trembled as he pushed it open, the familiar creak of the hinges echoing in the empty hallway. He placed his luggage down and walked through the house, his footsteps the only sound in the silence. Every corner of the house held memories. He could still hear his mother’s laughter from the kitchen, his father’s voice discussing news from the day, Shriya’s playful teasing.But those voices are gone now. They had been silenced by the riots. A trivial argument between two communities had escalated into a full-blown war zone, and his family had been caught in the crossfire. While he was planning his grand return, tragedy had struck.It was a phone call from his uncle that had shattered his world. “Rishabh,” his uncle had said, voice trembling, “your parents... they didn’t make it....They died in riots and Shriya... she’s in the ICU........”When Rishabh received the call from his uncle, it felt as though time stopped. The world around him—so bright and hopeful just moments before—collapsed into silence. The bustling noise of the campus, the chatter of students, the distant honking of cars—all of it faded as his uncle’s words echoed in his ears.“Your parents... they didn’t make it...”At first, he couldn’t comprehend the gravity of those words. His brain refused to process them. His parents? Gone? He had just spoken to them a few days ago, heard their laughter, and felt their excitement for his future. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.“Shriya... she’s in the ICU...”His hands shook violently, the phone nearly slipping from his grip. His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the nearest chair, his heart pounding in his chest. His uncle’s words played on a loop in his mind, drowning out every other thought. "No... No, this can’t be true," His breath came in short gasps, his throat tight, his body refusing to move as shock paralyzed him. His mind was in denial, but the growing sense of dread in his chest was too real, too suffocating to ignore.His family—his rock, his anchor—was being torn apart in a way he never imagined. His parents... the two people who had sacrificed so much for his dreams, the ones who had given him everything... were gone? And Shriya—his little sister, who had been his biggest cheerleader—was fighting for her life in some ICU across the world.A sharp, overwhelming pain began to surge through him. It wasn’t physical, but it might as well have been a knife twisting deep inside his soul. He felt utterly helpless, thousands of miles away, unable to do anything.Tears blurred his vision as panic gripped his heart. His uncle was still talking, saying something about arranging a flight, but Rishabh couldn’t focus. All he could see was the last image of his parents, smiling and waving goodbye at the airport, and Shriya's excited face, promising to call him every day. They had been so proud of him, so full of hope for his future. And now, in an instant, they are gone."No, please... no..."Rishabh whispered to himself, as the walls of his reality caved in. The next few hours passed in a haze. His friends helped him book the earliest flight, but the world felt like it was moving in slow motion. The airport, the check-in, the boarding—all of it was a blur. Time felt both frozen and agonizingly slow, each minute on that long flight to India stretching into eternity.