"And what should I do?" Vihaan snapped, spinning around to face him, shoulders tense like a coiled spring. "Pretend it didn't happen? Smile and nod like I'm whole? Like she didn't die screaming my name?"
"No," Arv said, stepping closer, his voice low but unwavering. "But maybe stop acting like you're the only one who's ever lost something. You think pain makes you special? It doesn't. It makes you human."
"No," Arv said, stepping closer, his voice low but unwavering. "But maybe stop acting like you're the only one who's ever lost something. You think pain makes you special? It doesn't. It makes you human."
Vihaan turned away, breath ragged, fists clenched. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, its glare cutting through the stale office air. The room felt small, the walls pressing in. A faded photo on his desk showed her grinning under a garland of marigolds, now browned at the edges.
She would've wanted you to live, man, Arv said, nodding at the photo. Not just exist. Not like this.
Vihaan's nails dug into his palms. A draft from the air vent carried the faint scent of rain and sandalwood incense that always burned. He closed his eyes. For a second, there was silence.
"I don't know how," he said quietly.
"Then figure it out, Vihaan," Arv insisted, his frustration showing.
She's gone. Staying like this doesn't bring her back. It just makes things worse for everyone else too.
Vihaan's shoulders jerked. He finally turned back, his eyes red-rimmed. "Worse for everyone else? You think this is for your benefit, Arv? You think I want to—" His voice broke, and he slammed a fist against the filing cabinet.
"You don't, man," Arv said, his voice softening but still firm.
Believe me, I see it. Every single day. And you know who else sees it? Your wife, Vihaan. She's hurting too, and you're both making it harder for each other.
Vihaan's jaw tightened. His hand fell open, trembling. "You don't understand," he choked out. "You can't."
Arv swallowed. His voice wavered briefly. "Can't I? I lost her too, Vihaan. She wasn't just your girlfriend—she was my bestfriend. Do you think I don't feel the emptiness? Do you think I don't remember her smile?" He paused, looking at the calendar still on March. "But she'd want you to carry her forward, not stay stuck here.
Don't you think I know that? Vihaan's laugh sounded empty.
"Every breath I take reminds me of what I've lost! How can I just move on?"
No one's asking you to forget her, Arv said, stepping closer again. His hand hesitated before gripping Vihaan's shoulder. But living in this pain, pushing your wife away… is that honoring her?. She's gone, but your wife is still here. And you're making her grieve alone.
Vihaan's breath caught. "And if there's no way back?"
Arv's grip tightened. "Then you fight for a way forward.
Arv's fingers closed around Vihaan's wrist, tight but not unkind.
Enough talking,he said, his voice edged with a resolve that broked no argument. Before Vihaan could pull away, Arv tugged him toward the office door, past cubicles humming with the ghosts of productivity, down the elevator, and into the parking lot. The rain had started, fat droplets smearing the asphalt into a blur of gray.
Vihaan slumped into the passenger seat of Arv's battered sedan, his body rigid. The car smelled of old coffee and the sandalwood air freshener Priya had gifted Arv years ago—"To mask your existential dread," she'd joked. Now, the scent felt like a knife.
The drive was silent save for the rhythmic thump of windshield wipers. Arv's jaw worked as he gripped the steering wheel, while Vihaan stared at the window—her smile, frozen in time.
The car pulled up outside Vihaan's house, the headlights cutting through the rain-streaked darkness. The house stood silent, a soft glow emanating from a downstairs window. Arv switched off the engine, plunging them into a quieter world punctuated only by the drumming rain.
"She's in there, Vihaan," Arv said, his voice low and steady. He turned in his seat, looking directly at his friend. "Don't let the silence win."
Vihaan didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the house. It felt both familiar and alien, a place holding the absence that haunted him.
Arv waited, giving him the space he needed. Finally, Vihaan reached for the door handle, his movements slow and deliberate. He stepped out into the rain, the cool drops instantly soaking his clothes.
He stood for a moment, a solitary figure in the downpour, his gaze fixed on the illuminated window. Then, with a heavy sigh, he started walking towards the house. Arv watched until Vihaan reached the front door, a silent prayer for his friend's healing hanging in the rain-filled air.
Vihaan stood frozen in the doorway, the scent of home – a blend of her jasmine incense and his old leather armchair – hitting him like a physical blow. It was a cruel comfort, a reminder of what was, and what irrevocably wasn't. His clothes clung to him, heavy with rain, mirroring the weight in his chest.
She remained on the sofa, a still point in the dimly lit room. Her gaze was steady, devoid of accusation, yet filled with a profound weariness that mirrored his own. The silence wasn't empty; it hummed with unspoken grief,with the chasm that had widened with each passing day he'd been away, lost in his own pain.
Their eyes remained locked for a long, heavy moment. It was a look that held a universe of unspoken sorrow, of unanswered questions, of the raw, gaping wound that had been left behind. In that extended silence, Vihaan saw not anger, but a profound exhaustion in her eyes, a quiet resignation that cut him deeper.
Then, without a word, without a flicker of acknowledgment beyond that initial gaze, Vihaan turned. He moved slowly, his steps heavy, and walked out of the living room, towards the hallway that led to their bedroom. The silence in the living room seemed to deepen, thick and absolute, broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain outside. She remained on the sofa, her gaze now fixed on the flickering light, her expression unreadable as the sound of Vihaan's retreating footsteps faded into the quiet of the house.
To be continued.... 😊😊