Chirag woke up early that morning, still smiling at the memory of last night. Yashika's joke had been silly, but the way she laughed at her own punchline was what made it hilarious. And then there was Arnav, teasing him during their game of Uno.
"Chirag's playing soft on Yashika. That's not fair!" Arnav had complained.
Millie had jumped in, grinning. "Oh, come on, Arnav. He loves her. How can he not? And she's cute and you are not." And Arnav had pouted dramatically on hearing that.
Yashika had blushed so hard that Chirag could barely hold back his laugh. Remembering it now, he chuckled to himself as he headed towards his father's room.
He hadn't called his dad yet this morning, so he decided to check in. But when he opened the door, he found him lying still. Peaceful. Too peaceful.
"Papa?" Chirag stepped closer and tried to shake him awake. No response. Panic surged through him. He leaned down, checked for breathing—there was none. Heart pounding, he pressed his fingers to his father's pulse. It was there, but faint.
He bolted out of the room, snatched his phone, and called the doctor.
Five minutes later, the doctor arrived, his face grave as he checked Raghuveer Uncle's vitals. Then, quietly, he turned to Chirag.
"I'm sorry… he's gone."
The words hit like a blow. Chirag's legs gave out beneath him, and he sank to the floor, numb. The world blurred around him, but somehow he forced himself to stand, his voice trembling as he asked the doctor to make the report.
When the doctor left, Chirag called Yashika. Mrs. Kavita answered, then called her over.
As soon as Yashika heard his voice, she knew something was wrong. She didn't waste another second—she ran straight to his house.
When the door opened, Chirag stood there, eyes bloodshot, looking like he was holding himself together by a single thread. Without a word, he pulled her into a crushing hug, burying his face into her shoulder. And then he broke. He cried like he hadn't since his mother's death, his body shaking.
Hours seemed to pass before he finally lifted his head, meeting her eyes. His voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and uneven.
"Papa left us."
Yashika froze, tears already welling before she could even process the words. "You're lying, right? Tell me I heard you wrong. Please… say I heard you wrong."
Her voice broke, and before she knew it, sobs wracked her body.
They clung to each other, the only anchors in a storm neither wanted to be in.
Eventually, they stepped inside again. Raghuveer Uncle lay on his bed, his face pale but peaceful. Yashika swallowed hard.
"I think… you should call your uncle."
Chirag nodded silently, picking up his phone. His uncle promised to arrive in half an hour.
Until then, Chirag and Yashika sat together at Raghuveer Uncle's bedside, holding hands, their tears falling in quiet waves.
And then the doorbell rang.
Chirag's uncle arrived quietly, but the weight on his face was impossible to miss. His eyes were tired, shoulders drooping, as if life had been chipping away at him for years. He had his own scars — his wife had left him after years of asking him to quit his dangerous lawyer work, and his refusal had been the final wedge. Not long after the divorce, his only son had taken his own life.
Without a word, he stepped forward and hugged Chirag tightly. Chirag froze for a second, then slowly hugged him back. Yashika stood nearby, watching. Everyone in the room felt the heaviness, like the air itself was too thick to breathe.
Chirag, his voice low, turned to Yashika. "Call the orphanage. You should go… This is too much for you."
But Yashika took his hand, firm but gentle. "Chirag, I've always been here, haven't I? When aunty passed away, I didn't leave you. I'm not leaving now either. You know that."
A tear slid down Chirag's cheek. Then another. His nose turned red as he tried to hide it, but Yashika reached up and wiped his tears without saying anything more. She walked to the landline, picked it up, and called the orphanage.
She explained everything to them, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
Miss Kavita expressed her concern, and Milli tried to protest, but Yashika stood firm. "No. I'm staying." Her tone left no room for argument. After a pause, Miss Kavita sighed and didn't push further. Milli gave a reluctant, "Okay… fine. If you say so."
Chirag too called Arnav. He was a lot taken aback but was there for his best friend and had his back all the way.
They performed the Antim Sanskar — the final rites — together. For the next thirteen days, Chirag was like a ghost. His skin pale, his eyes hollow, his movements slow. He had lost everything, and yet… he still held onto one fragile thread of hope: Yashika was there.
When the rituals ended, his uncle asked him to come live with him. "I have no one either, Chirag," he said quietly.
Chirag didn't hesitate. "Okay."
They lived in the same city, so school and basketball practice wouldn't be a problem. Packing his parents' belongings alongside his own was painful, but necessary.
His uncle transferred the money from the house sale into Chirag's bank account, determined to ensure his nephew would have a stable future.
Life had cracked for both Chirag and Yashika.
Nothing felt normal.
It was as if the world had lost its color, and every day was a shade of grey. But they still had each other — and that was enough to keep a small flame alive.
Weeks passed. Loneliness still lingered, heavy and constant. They couldn't meet as often as before, but they made time — at least three or four times a week — just to be together, even if it meant sitting in silence.
Sometimes, silence was enough.
But who knew… that silence could also speak louder than anything else? It had its own language—one made of unspoken fears, unacknowledged truths, and quiet warnings that most people never stopped to hear.
For a while, it felt as if things were finally finding their place. The storms had passed, the wounds had begun to heal, and the road ahead didn't look as frightening anymore. But destiny has a strange way of laughing at human hope—it lets you believe, just long enough, to pull the ground from under your feet again.
Just when it seemed like everything was going to be fine… it wasn't. And that's when it all started again—but this time, more brutally. The past, that old and restless ghost, began rattling its chains once more. Shadows from old chapters crept into the present, staining everything they touched.
And maybe… it wasn't just the past. Maybe it was something deeper. Forgotten pages demanding to be read again. Old wounds reopening, as if they had been waiting for this exact moment to bleed. History wasn't just repeating—it was rewriting itself in darker ink.
"Some stories don't end. They wait… and when you least expect it, they start writing themselves again."