The apartment was quiet—too quiet.
A single lamp near the bed spread a dull yellow glow across the room, barely strong enough to push away the shadows gathering in the corners. Sangharshan sat on the edge of the bed, old photographs resting loosely in his hands. Their edges were worn, the memories inside softened by time. His eyes stayed on them, yet his mind was far away, wrapped in a sadness he had learned not to question anymore.
Then the silence broke.
Knock. Knock.
He froze for a moment, as if the sound didn't belong there. Slowly, he stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, dim hallway light spilled inside—and she stood there.
Without saying anything, she stepped in. Her eyes went straight to the cat near the corner. She bent down, picked her up gently, and then looked at Sangharshan.
"This is our Rain," she said.
He frowned slightly.
"What kind of way is this? Why don't you answer directly?"
She smiled, light and effortless.
"You're the king here, after all."
He shook his head, half annoyed, half amused.
"You're strange. The cat steals milk, and the owner walks straight into the house!"
She shrugged, holding Rain closer.
"Milk costs twenty rupees. Drama costs a thousand. Crazy, right?"
Sangharshan studied her for a moment before asking,
"Where have you been till now?"
"I came only to take Rain," she replied. "I was out for six days. I left her with someone else, but they ran away because of rent issues. What was I supposed to do?"
Her voice softened. "Rain didn't even eat properly."
Confusion mixed with concern on his face.
"So… Laxmi is your friend?"
"She's my roommate."
A brief silence followed.
"Laxmi's mother met with an accident," he said quietly.
She froze. Sadness and confusion hit her at once. Her grip on Rain tightened as if the cat was the only thing keeping her steady. Words failed her.
Sangharshan noticed everything.
"Maybe she forgot to tell me you were coming," he said gently. "That's why she left Rain with me."
She lowered her eyes, absorbing the meaning of his words.
Outside the window, the sky was black and heavy. Sangharshan glanced at the wall clock. Something suddenly made sense. When he looked back at her, his expression had changed—clearer, calmer.
Rain shifted in her arms. She looked lost… almost afraid.
"I have the key to her room," he said after a slow breath. "You should stay there tonight."
She looked up, surprised.
"And… what's your name?" he added, hesitant but honest. "I'll need to tell her."
A long silence stretched between them.
"My name is Sangharshan," he said softly.
Rain blinked, sensing the tension.
Finally, she lifted her eyes.
"Kayala."
For a second, Sangharshan stopped breathing.
He took out his phone and typed a message to Laxmi:
You didn't tell me Kayala came to take the cat. I'm giving her your room key.
He picked up the key and looked at her.
"Come. Let's go to Laxmi's room."
Kayala hugged Rain a little closer and nodded.
The corridor was quiet as they walked side by side. Their footsteps echoed softly, but neither of them spoke.
Outside Laxmi's door, Sangharshan unlocked it and pushed it open. Kayala stepped inside and gently placed Rain on the bed. The cat curled up immediately, safe and warm.
She turned back.
Sangharshan stood at the doorway, watching her calmly.
"Goodbye, Kayala," he said.
She smiled—a small, tired smile.
"Yes… goodbye."
She closed the door slowly.
Sangharshan waited until it clicked shut, then turned and walked away.
Halfway down the hallway, he slowed… and stopped.
He stood alone, staring at the closed door. The calm on his face slipped away, replaced by something hollow. Loneliness settled quietly in his chest. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Inside the room, Kayala lay beside Rain. Sadness pressed down on her, heavy and unavoidable. She watched the cat for a moment, then closed her eyes. Exhaustion pulled her into stillness.
The room fell silent.
Above the city, streetlights glimmered softly. The night loosened its grip as darkness slowly turned blue. Stars faded. Morning began to arrive.
A thin beam of sunlight slipped across the floor.
Kayala lay still for a moment… then opened her eyes.
Calm. Heavy. Quiet.
A new day had begun.
Sangharshan's Room – Kitchen
The kitchen was narrow—barely wide enough to turn without brushing the walls.
A small steel pot sat on the gas stove.
Blue flames curled beneath it, steady and patient.
Tea simmered.
Thin lines of steam rose and vanished into the dim light.
Sangharshan leaned against the counter. One hand rested on the edge, grounding himself. The other moved a spoon through the tea—slow, absent.
He wasn't watching it.
He wasn't really there.
The smell reached him.
And just like that, the room wasn't empty anymore.
Kayal appeared in his mind—barefoot on the cold floor, hair half loose as she tied it back. She stood close, close enough that he could almost feel her presence.
She always said it like that.
Not as a complaint.
As care.
The spoon stopped mid-circle.
The flame kept burning.
Something tightened in his chest. Sangharshan reached forward and switched off the gas. The silence returned—but the warmth stayed. In the room. In him.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he let himself believe that holding the memory long enough might bring her back.
It didn't.
After a long pause, he picked up his keys.
Kayal's Room – Kitchen
Kayal stood near the sink, rinsing a cup she hadn't used. The water ran longer than necessary, as if she needed the sound.
Her kitchen felt different now.
Quieter.
Heavier.
The wall clock ticked loudly—each second landing where words used to be.
She wiped her hands on the edge of her dupatta and turned toward the stove when—
Knock. Knock.
She froze.
No one knocked anymore.
Her heart skipped—not with joy, but confusion. Then caution. She stood still, listening, as if movement itself might break something fragile.
The knock came again. Softer. Hesitant.
Kayal walked toward the door. Each step echoed in the small space.
Her hand rested on the handle.
She waited.
Afraid of disappointment.
Afraid of hope.
She opened the door.
Sangharshan stood outside.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Kayal: You…?
(surprised, unsure)
Sangharshan: Can we talk for a moment? I even made tea.
(trying to sound normal, failing just a little)
Kayal looked past him, then back at his face.
Kayal: No… it will be inconvenient for you.
(gentle, distant)
Sangharshan: It's already made now. What can we do?
(a small, helpless smile)
She hesitated. Then turned slightly, stepping aside.
Kayal: Come. Let's go to your room.
(quiet, controlled)
Inside Sangharshan's Room
The door closed softly behind them.
Sangharshan: Please, sit down.
(careful, respectful)
Kayal sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands folded in her lap—not tense, not relaxed. Just contained.
Kayal: You didn't have to do all this.
(soft, conflicted)
Sangharshan stayed standing for a moment before speaking.
Sangharshan: I know.
(beat)
But I needed to see you.
(low, honest)
Silence filled the room.
Not empty silence—
but the kind that carried everything they hadn't said yet.