Chapter 14: Yesterdays and Tomorrows

The temple bells rang softly as a gentle breeze moved through the ancient peepal trees. The courtyard was still quiet, except for a few early devotees and the sound of footsteps—light, deliberate, carrying a quiet weight.

Sonali adjusted the corner of her saree, folding her hands before the idol. She had come alone, as instructed by Sameer. For the first time, Sameer wasn’t present there for Roshni’s shraadh as his work commitments had kept him away from home, for too long this time. He had called Arjun last night but they already knew he wouldn’t show up. The priest had already begun the preparatory chants.

Her gaze kept drifting to the temple gate, hopeful.

But she knew better.

It had been eight years.

Eight years since Roshni was gone.

Eight years since her shraadh had been avoided by him.

Denied.

Ignored in the name of pain.

--

The plane hummed gently as Riya leaned against the window, her hoodie pulled up like a cocoon, earbuds half-hanging out. Kabir beside her had already finished scribbling something in his little black notebook — something Riya always suspected was either a genius war plan or terrible poetry.

“Ugh. Battery dead. My last 3% betrayed me.”, Kabir groaned.

“Can’t relate. I’m loyal. My phone still loves me.”, Riya replied, her eyes still shut.

“That phone loves me more. It still has my name as the password?”

“Still Mad_Kabir.”, Riya grinned without looking.

Kabir laughed and took her phone. He opened it, navigated quickly to his texts, but as he was swiping down, a bank notification caught his eye:

₹1,00,000 debited to A/C ending 8839 – Shambhu Das.

He stared.

“Hold up. Who’s Shambhu Das? Sounds suspicious.”

“ETF’s caretaker.”, Riya replied, stretching her arms lazily.

“Caretaker? Or secret boyfriend? Riya Mukherjee, are you living a double life I don’t know about? Are you cheating on me?”

Riya burst out laughing.

“Yup. That’s me. Criminal psychologist by day, mysterious secret girlfriend by night.”

Kabir gasped dramatically, “I knew it! The bank alert doesn’t lie. A whole lakh, Riya? Oh my God, Riya!”

She giggled harder.

“Don’t be stupid. He needed the money. I overheard him one evening — he was on the phone, really stressed. His sister’s surgery or something… I asked. He was hesitant, didn’t tell me, but I helped. Even he helped me once, with those giant file boxes.”

Kabir paused, amusement giving way to something warmer.

“You just gave a lakh like it was pocket change?”

Riya shrugged.

“It isn’t about the money. He needed it, and I could help. Why wait?”

“You didn’t think twice?”

“Nope. Isn’t that what rich girls do? Secret boyfriends and surprise donations?” she winked.

“You better be careful. If I ever meet Shambhu, I’m checking if he’s taller than me.”

“Not taller, but he is definitely older- 55, maybe”

Kabir made a face.

“Okay, fine. But I’m still watching him.”

They shared a soft laugh, but Kabir’s gaze lingered for a moment longer.

“You’re kind, Ri. A little reckless… but kind.”

He reached for her hand.

“Just remember… not everyone handles help the same way. Especially when it’s in bundles of zeroes.”

Riya tilted her head, thoughtful. “You think I embarrassed him?”

“Maybe not. But sometimes giving money makes someone feel small, even when the heart behind it is huge. I know your heart’s in the right place. But sometimes, money—especially when it comes from someone like you—can feel more like charity than compassion.”

“But I never meant to insult—”

“I know, jaan. You’re not arrogant about it. But you’re used to helping people through giving. That’s not wrong. But sometimes... listening, understanding, or just standing beside someone silently speaks louder.”

She looked away, quietly absorbing his words.

“I never thought of it that way. I just... couldn’t watch him struggle.”

Kabir squeezed her hand.

“You’ve got the biggest heart I’ve ever known, Ri. Just make sure you don’t let your light blind someone else's dignity.”

“So, what should I have done?”

“Maybe ask what he needed instead of how much he needed.”

She looked at him, a little teary-eyed but smiling.

“And that’s why I keep you around, Captain. To keep my feet on the ground.”, she pulled his cheeks lovingly.

“Glad to be your reality check, madam billionaire.”

“Excuse me, self-made billionaire in progress, and I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kabir softened, “I know your heart. It’s my favourite thing about you.”

“Even above my hotness?”

“It’s a very close second.”

They both laughed again, and she rested her head on his shoulder, the clouds beyond their window glowing gold in the rising sun.

“Now shut up and close your eyes, and let me sleep too!”, Riya slapped him playfully and rested her head on his shoulder, finding the comfort she desired, but Kabir’s thoughts drifted to the day before.

--

Kabir sat quietly beside Baba, the two men bathed in soft moonlight.

“You love her,” Baba began, his voice firm but kind.

Kabir didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

“She is light. Innocent. Fierce in her own way. But she’s not built for heartbreak, Kabir.”

Kabir looked down.

“You think… I’ll hurt her?”

“No,” Baba said gently. “I fear the world might. And you… you walk into danger like it’s your second home.”

Kabir looked away; jaw clenched.

Baba placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t mistake me. We have no issue with who you are… or what you don’t have. This family only sees how her eyes light up around you. If you’re her happiness—then promise me this…”

He turned Kabir’s face gently.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, too.”

Kabir’s throat tightened. That was a kind of acceptance he never expected… or knew he needed.

“I promise.”

He had to tell Riya about his mission today.

--

In the ETF Quarters, Arjun sat alone in his dimly lit room, fingers trailing the edge of a small leather-bound diary.

Roshni’s diary.

He opened the worn page, reading once again:

“If I leave before you, I hope you won’t stop living, Arjun.

A promise that life must go on.

I would want you to smile again.

Find peace.

Find laughter.

Maybe even love.”

He sat on the edge of his bed, the diary trembling in his hand. His chest ached, but not from pain—it was the tightness of acceptance trying to push its way through denial.

He closed his eyes.

“I can’t, Roshni.”

His grip on the diary tightened.

--

The hotel room was dim, sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

Riya walked in, tired from the flight.

“Kabir, you better not have finished all the chocolates I packed—”

Suddenly, there was a loud bark.

Riya froze.

A golden puffball came running straight at her, tail wagging madly.

“SCOTCHHHHHH!” Riya squealed.

Kabir stood by the doorway, grinning.

“Well, technically, he belongs to an old couple in the society close-by… but they’re out for some work and... I thought we could babysit.”

Riya knelt down, showering the dog with kisses and hugs.

“Kabir, I love you so much I might cry.”

“Please do. Makes me feel powerful.”

She threw a pillow at him, laughing, as Scotch barked in approval.

“I love you Scotch!”, she exclaimed.

“By the way, his name is not Scotch, he is Dexter.”

“No! I’ll call him Scotch!”

--

Sonali was about to turn to leave when she heard footsteps behind her. She stilled.

A moment later, Arjun Rawte stood beside her, in plain white kurta-pyjama—simple, humble, utterly unexpected.

His face was unreadable. But his eyes—

They carried eight years’ worth of storms.

Sonali blinked rapidly, unsure if she was imagining things.

“You came,” she whispered.

“For her!”, Arjun replied, voice low.

Sonali didn’t speak. She simply moved aside, letting him take her place before the idol.

Arjun’s fingers hesitated over the matchstick.

And then, slowly—deliberately—he lit the small brass diya and placed it near the sacred flame.

The priest watched silently, before chanting the final prayers.

As the ritual ended, he turned to Arjun with a kind smile.

“Her soul is at peace. But yours… is finally waking.”

Arjun didn’t say a word, just turned, ready to walk away.

But the priest, a soft-spoken old man, added with quiet certainty:

“There is more light in your life than you think, beta. A new path is forming… one with a heartbeat of its own. You’ll find it when you stop looking.”

Arjun frowned.

“I’m not looking for anyone or anything!,” he muttered, angrily.

The priest chuckled.

“That’s why it’ll find you.”

--

In the evening, the hotel room’s doorbell rang.

Riya opened it to see a sweet elderly couple—the owners of Scotch.

“Time to return this handsome gentleman,” Kabir announced seeing them and the elderly woman smiled.

Riya knelt beside the dog, hugging him tightly. Kabir joined her, patting Scotch’s head.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll meet again.”

Scotch wagged his tail, licking Riya’s cheek before following his family out the door.

The silence after he left was almost too heavy, and Kabir took a long deep breath.

--

The sun was beginning to dip behind the hills, casting a warm, golden glow over the temple courtyard. The bells had gone quiet, the fragrance of incense still lingering in the air.

Sonali sat on the marble steps outside the temple, her dupatta fluttering gently in the breeze. Arjun stood nearby, arms crossed, jaw clenched, looking anywhere but at her.

She looked at him with a quiet smile.

“You came, Arjun. For the first time in eight years… you finally came.”

Arjun didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on a distant banyan tree.

“She would’ve wanted this. For you to sit with her... not in guilt, but in peace.”

Arjun sighed through his nose. “I did what I had to. For her peace! Don’t make it more than that.”

Sonali smiled again—gentle, knowing.

“You think I haven’t noticed?”

Arjun turned to her, confused. “Noticed what?”

“You’ve changed. A little. You're… not as silent anymore. Not as numb. Your anger has rhythm now. You even argue with Sameer like you used to—back when you still had life in your voice.”

Arjun looked away sharply.

“It’s a good thing, Arjun. You’ve finally begun to let go.”

The words hit him like a slap.

His face turned pale, stiff.

“I’m not letting go. I’m not forgetting her.” Arjun said harshly.

His voice cracked ever so slightly.

“I will never forget her.”

Sonali blinked, not startled—but moved.

“I didn’t say you should. Or that you have. Letting go does not mean forgetting. It means finding peace- not just for her, but yourself too. Finding hope, love, happiness, again.”

Arjun’s eyes flickered.

The words she said… Finding love again! The words the priest said… Light in your life. New path.

Was that what was happening to him?

He stood abruptly, his fists clenched.

Arjun muttered to himself, accusingly:

Am I?

Am I really seeing her... in someone else’s light now?

He shook his head, as if to fight the voice inside.

Arjun became defensive.

“You’re mistaken. This… this puja was for her. For Roshni. That’s all. It has got nothing to do with me!.”

Sonali didn’t argue. She only watched as Arjun turned away and walked off, leaving her sitting alone under the temple archway.

--

Later that evening, Riya pulled out their shared journal folder—filled with pages from both their hands.

Riya and Kabir shared a unique ritual that was as intimate as it was therapeutic—their journal habit, as proposed by Riya. Each night, they would write in their own journals, pouring in thoughts, memories, feelings, and daily reflections. Later, whenever they would be together, they would exchange pages, reading each other’s entries before slipping them into a shared folder—a growing collection of their intertwined lives. Sometimes their words were light and playful, sometimes heavy and vulnerable, but it was their silent conversation—a place where they understood each other’s fears and dreams without interruption. Over time, this folder became a testament to their journey, one that would remain long after spoken words faded.

They sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through laughter-filled memories and philosophical ramblings.

Kabir finally pulled out his new pages, and took a heavy breath.

“I need to tell you something.”

Riya looked up.

“Mission?”, she spoke mechanically, maybe she had read the emotions on Kabir’s face in that one moment.

He nodded.

“Tomorrow. Classified. I’ll be off-grid for a while.”

Her smile faltered.

“Kabir, I hate this part.”, she breathed out aloud.

“I know,” he said gently. “But it’s who I am.”

She bit her lip, even she had to share a secret with him. But she chose otherwise, not to say anything about the threat letters. Not now. Not when he needed focus.

Kabir noticed her change of mood and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ll come back to you. Always.”

“You better. Or I’ll haunt you.”

“That sounds like a promise. Also… can I get haunting cuddles? Asking for a friend.”

She laughed through teary eyes and punched his chest lightly.

“Idiot.”

They held each tight. Her hand wrapped in his, hearts syncing in unspoken love. Kabir remembered Baba’s words.

“If you’re her happiness then promise me, you’ll take care of yourself, too.”

He had to come back, safe, for her.

--

Arjun’s room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a small table lamp in the corner. Silence blanketed everything, as though the walls themselves held their breath.

Arjun stood by the old wooden cabinet, the one that hadn’t been touched in years.He slowly opened it.

Inside, preserved like relics of a life long gone, were Roshni’s things—her favourite maroon dupatta, a tiny Polaroid of them from Holi, a diary she never finished. And in the middle of it all, a faded photograph: her, smiling, radiant, frozen in time.

He ran a finger down her face in the frame.

It felt like betrayal.

He closed his eyes and whispered:

“I didn’t forget you, Roshni… I never will.”

But his hand moved automatically to the drawer beside the cabinet.

And from it, he pulled out another piece of cloth—stained, creased, folded over itself.

Riya’s scarf.

Still faintly smelling of antiseptic, and dust, and fear.

He remembered her wounded body slumped against the wall. The stubborn refusal in her voice. That ridiculous half-smile as the blood soaked through her sleeve.

Arjun clenched the scarf tightly in his fist.

“What are you doing to me, Riya Mukherjee. What are you making people think!”, Arjun spoke in a low frustrated tone.

His gaze shifted between the photograph of his wife… and the bloodstained fabric in his hand.

One was loss.

The other… was everything he didn’t want to name.

Guilt crawled up his spine. He tossed the scarf aside and stumbled back from the cabinet.

The ghosts in the room pressed in.

He didn’t want to feel this. He wasn’t supposed to.

But he couldn’t stop.

The very next moment, his fingers curled into tight fists.

His jaw clenched.

His mind played cruel games.

Roshni’s laughter.

Riya’s stubborn voice.

Roshni’s warm hands.

Riya’s tear-filled eyes.

He shut his eyes tightly, almost in pain. This had to stop.

“Roshni… I couldn’t save you. And now… this girl, this Riya…”

He breathed out harshly, like forcing air through grief.

“She doesn’t get to take your place.”

A silence followed. Not peace—no, never peace. Only the echo of a heart that refused to forget.

“I won’t let her.”

“ She won’t stay. She can’t.”

His eyes burned as he stared out into the darkness, his gaze hard as stone.

“She will quit. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one else… gets that close again.”

He stood upright.

Shoulders square.

Heart armoured.

And walked away with the same silent resolve he once carried to Roshni’s funeral.

But this time, it wasn’t loss he mourned.

It was the slow birth of something terrifying—something he swore he’d never feel again.

--

That night, the lights were off, but sleep never came.

Arjun sat by the window, a half-empty glass of water forgotten in his hand. The moonlight etched soft lines across his face, casting long shadows that mirrored the chaos inside him.

He had promised himself that Roshni’s place in his heart was sacred. Unreachable.

Untouchable.

But something was shifting.

Arjun leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered to the dark.

“I don’t feel anything. I’m not allowed to.”

But somewhere in the silence, guilt curled into longing. And longing curled into fear.

--

Kabir stared at the ceiling fan as it spun in slow circles.

In a few hours, he’d be gone.

Another covert op. Another risk. Another secret he couldn’t share.

But what kept him awake wasn’t fear of bullets or death.

It was her.

Riya.

Riya, who lay curled up in his arms.

The girl who’d cracked him open without even trying.

Who looked at him like he was her whole world—and meant it.

He looked at the way she was hugging him tonight. As if letting go would mean letting go of everything.

Kabir closed his eyes, burying his face in the pillow.

He didn’t want her to carry the weight of his demons. She deserved sunshine. Not his shadows.

Still…

He hoped, when he returned, she’d still be there. Waiting. Loving.

“I’ll come back to you. Always.”

When Kabir said that, Riya had nodded, smiled, even teased him like always. But now, her pillow was wet, her eyes closed, tight, shut, her chest tight with something she didn’t want to name, and her fingers were clutching Kabir’s sweatshirt even tighter, each passing second.

“What if…?

She jerked those negative thoughts away. She loved Kabir like a lifeline, but sometimes… sometimes love wasn’t strong enough to fight fate. And that thought terrified her more than anything.

--

Three souls.

Three hearts.

Three sleepless nights, tied together by love, duty… and the slow ache of what-ifs.

Because sometimes, silence isn’t peace—it’s the sound of hearts holding on a little longer, waiting for morning.

---

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