As Vikram and his men left the room, the door clicked shut behind them, leaving Ramesh alone in the suffocating silence. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed faintly overhead, casting erratic shadows on the cracked walls. The air felt heavier now, thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and the weight of what he had just done. Ramesh sat frozen in his chair, staring at the empty space where Vikram had been moments before. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles white from the pressure.
"What have I done?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. The words echoed in the empty room, unanswered and haunting. He looked down at his hands, still gripping the table, and noticed the faint smear of ink on his finger from signing the contract. It felt like a brand, a permanent mark of his desperation.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled photograph of Chameli, taken years ago when she was still a child. She was smiling in the picture, her eyes bright and full of innocence. Ramesh traced the edges of the photo with his thumb, his chest tightening as a wave of guilt washed over him. "I'm doing this for you," he murmured, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "I have to make this right."
The sound of footsteps outside the door jolted him back to reality. He quickly tucked the photo back into his pocket and wiped his eyes, though no tears had fallen. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not here, not now. The door creaked open, and one of Vikram's men poked his head in. "You're still here?" the man asked, his tone mocking. "Don't you have a business to run?"
Ramesh forced a nod, his throat too tight to speak. The man smirked and closed the door, leaving Ramesh alone once more. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but the air felt like it was closing in around him. He needed to get out of there.
******
As he walked home there was usualness of the honking cars, shouting vendors, and the constant hum of people. But to Ramesh, it all felt distant, like he was walking through a dream. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more suffocating than the last. He replayed the conversation with Vikram in his head, the coldness in the man's voice, the way he had so casually mentioned Chameli as if she were nothing more than a commodity.
"She's young, pretty. She'd fetch a good price."
The words echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of the stakes he was playing with. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walked. He couldn't let it come to that. He wouldn't.
******
As he passed a small park, he paused, his gaze drawn to a group of children playing on the swings. Their laughter was carefree, a stark contrast to the heaviness in his chest. He remembered bringing Chameli here when she was little, pushing her on the swings as she squealed with delight. Those days felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory that only made the present feel more unbearable.
"Papa, higher!" she had shouted, her tiny hands gripping the chains of the swing. "I want to fly!"
He had laughed and obliged, pushing her higher and higher until she was practically soaring. For a moment, he had felt like everything was going to be okay. But now, standing here alone, he wondered if he had failed her. If he had failed them both.
******
When he finally reached the apartment, he hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He could hear Chameli inside, humming softly as she moved about the kitchen. The sound was comforting, a small reminder of the life they still had together. But it also filled him with dread. How could he face her after what he had just done?
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Chameli looked up from the stove, her face lighting up when she saw him. "Papa! You're home early."
He forced a smile, though it felt like a mask slipping over his true emotions. "Yes, beta. I thought I'd spend some time with you."
She smiled back, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. "I'm making dinner. Your favorite—aloo gobi."
Ramesh's chest tightened at her words. She was so young, so innocent. She had no idea what he had just risked, what he had put on the line for a chance to fix their broken lives. He wanted to tell her everything, to beg for her forgiveness, but he couldn't. Not yet.
******
Later, as Ramesh lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his decision pressed down on him like a physical force. He thought about the contract he had signed, the terms that bound him to Kancha's syndicate. He thought about Chameli, sleeping peacefully in the next room, unaware of the danger he had brought into their lives.
"I'll make this right," he whispered into the darkness, though the words felt like a prayer he wasn't sure would be answered. "I have to."
But as he closed his eyes, the doubts crept in, whispering in the back of his mind. What if he failed? What if he lost everything—including her?