The calls wouldn't stop.
My phone buzzed relentlessly, the screen lighting up with familiar names—Amma, Appa, my uncle, even Abhinav. My hands trembled as I gripped the device, staring at his name flashing on the screen. For a moment, I considered answering, confronting him, screaming at him for what he had done. But what was the point? Even if I told everyone the truth, would it matter? Society had already written my story for me.
I pressed the power button, watching the screen go dark. Silence, at last. But the quiet did nothing to ease the storm in my head.
I was a UK degree holder, a girl who had seen the world beyond the confines of tradition and expectation. I had debated in lecture halls, challenged professors, built friendships with people from different cultures, lived a life where my voice mattered. And yet, here I was, a runaway bride, huddled in a corner of a crowded train, paralyzed by fear. When did I become this person? When did I let the weight of societal approval dictate my every move?
I had followed every rule. I had been the good girl. I had kept myself pure, never daring to fall deeply in love, never daring to fight for the love I might have had. I had walked the tightrope of expectations, balancing duty and desire, believing that if I played by the rules, I would be rewarded. And now, I was on the verge of losing everything.
A thick, suffocating hopelessness settled over me. The air in the compartment felt heavy, my breaths shallow. I needed to get out. I needed air.
Just as I turned to Mridula, a sudden commotion erupted. Someone screamed, "Fire! There's a fire in the train!" Panic spread like wildfire, passengers scrambling over one another to get to the exit. My heart pounded as I grabbed Mridula's hand and pulled her along, pushing through the chaos.
The train jolted violently as someone yanked the emergency brake. A deafening screech of metal against metal filled the compartment, and I was thrown forward, barely managing to keep my balance. The lights flickered wildly, the entire space shuddering as the train fought against its own momentum.
I heard children crying, luggage tumbling from the racks, people desperately shoving past each other in blind terror. The smell of sweat, fear, and something acrid filled my nostrils. A woman beside me fell, her scream lost in the chaos, and I barely had time to register it before I felt someone push against me. My grip on Mridula tightened as bodies crashed into us from all sides.
I was going to die here. Crushed under a stampede of terrified passengers. The thought sent ice through my veins.
But then, suddenly, the momentum shifted. The train gave one final lurch before screeching to a complete stop. People were still yelling, still pushing, but the urgency had changed—somewhere between relief and continued fear.
"Move! Get down!" voices shouted.
The doors had been forced open, and we were close enough to the exit to scramble out before the true chaos resumed. Thank god we had been near the door. If we had been in the center of the compartment, we wouldn't have stood a chance.
We stumbled out onto the tracks, the cool night air hitting my face like a slap. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Mridula coughed, clutching my arm. "It's okay. We're okay," I told her, but the words felt hollow.
She bent over, hands on her knees, gasping. "I just... need a moment."
I nodded, pressing a hand to my racing heart. "You rest here. I just need to walk a little. I need to clear my head."
She looked up, alarmed. "Nila, don't go far. The tracks—"
"I'll be back in a minute," I assured her, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound calm.
I stepped onto the adjacent track, my shoes clicking against the metal, each step taking me further from the life I knew, from the expectations I had been shackled by. My breath came in slow, deliberate inhales, but my mind was racing with questions I couldn't answer.
Would my parents ever understand why I ran? Would they believe I had a choice in this? Of course not. They would be blamed. They would have to endure the whispers—the ones that always followed the stories of daughters who rebelled, daughters who didn't fall in line. She must not have been raised well. A good girl wouldn't have run away. A good girl wouldn't have questioned her marriage, wouldn't have dared to break from the role she was handed.
My name would be spat out in hushed tones, and the judgment would hang in the air like a thick cloud. My family's honor—everything they had carefully built and protected for years—would be tarnished forever. And I… I would become the symbol of failure.
And Abhinav? He would go on with his life, unscathed, untouched by the reality of what had really happened. No one would know what he had said, the way he had manipulated me, or what he had planned for me once the marriage was sealed. They would pity him, the poor groom left at the altar, his heart broken. People would blame me for his pain, because it was easier to blame the girl who ran. He would find another girl, another obedient wife, and life would move on as if I had never existed. As if I had never mattered.
The injustice of it burned in my chest, a fire that threatened to consume me. I had done nothing wrong. I had only wanted a life that was truly mine. Was that so terrible? Why was it so wrong to want to choose my own path, to not be trapped in a marriage that was more about appearances than love or respect?
A low, distant rumble shook the tracks beneath me, pulling me back to the present.
I turned, my eyes widening in horror as the train barreled towards me.
A scream lodged in my throat, but my body refused to move. In that split second, regret crashed over me like a tidal wave. The overwhelming realization that I was standing on the edge of something I couldn't undo.
No. Not like this. Not here. Not now.
I didn't want to die. I didn't want my life to end in whispers and shame. I didn't want Mridula to be the one to see my broken body, to be the one who would have to tell my parents what had happened. I didn't want them to get that phone call—the one where they would be told their daughter had died running away from her marriage.
I wanted another chance. A chance to prove that I could live for myself, that I could make my own choices without being condemned. I wanted to see a world where I wasn't defined by what others expected of me, where I didn't have to be someone else's version of what was right.
The train's horn blared, jolting me from my thoughts. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I moved. I didn't know where I was going, but I couldn't stay there. Not in that moment. Not with everything that had led me here.
I wanted another chance.
I wanted to fight.
I wanted to live.
But the train was too fast. The world blurred. The last thing I heard was Mridula screaming my name.
Then, nothing.
Darkness swallowed me whole.