The fog was like a white shroud, swallowing the street. Then, the rhythmic click of wheels broke the quiet. "Yash?" a soft voice called out. He stopped, his heart racing, as Stuti emerged from the mist, her hands gripping the armrests of her wheelchair. They stood there, locked in a gaze that said more than words ever could. In that moment, the month of isolation vanished, replaced by the raw, cold reality of what had been broken.
Yash kept his head low; his chin tucked into his white overshirt. "Hi," he managed, the word feeling like lead in his mouth. He stared at the asphalt, the very ground that had taken so much from them. Stuti stepped forward, closing the distance, and took his hand in hers. Her skin was cold, mirroring his own. "What happened to us, Yash?" she asked, her voice breaking into a thousand pieces. Her tears fell onto their joined hands, a silent baptism of shared sorrow.
"It's all my fault," Yash choked out, finally looking up from the road. "I shouldn't have asked you to come so early. If I hadn't been so selfish... everything would be different." As the words left his lips, both Stuti and Himari broke down, their sobs echoing through the misty street. The morning was so cold that tiny beads of dew had gathered on Stuti's woollen sweater, shimmering like diamonds in the dim blue light as she shook with grief.
"It isn't your fault, Stuti. It isn't anyone's," Yash said softly. He reached out, his fingers cold but steady, and gently pulled her woollen cap down to cover her ears, tucking a stray lock of hair away. "It was just a cruel twist of fate. And besides, I was the one who pushed for it—I was so desperate to see you and visit the village." He looked at her with a weary kindness.
"So, what are you two doing out here in this gloom?" Yash asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Himari. He scanned the empty, fog-drenched street. "You know it's not safe to be out this early—especially with the mist this thick." He adjusted his overshirt.
"Big bro, we tried," Himari whispered, her eyes searching his for a sign of the old Yash. "I called you, and Sister called you... every single day. But you never answered. She was so scared that something terrible had happened to you—that we'd lost you too." She gripped the armrests of her wheelchair, her voice trembling in the cold. "That's why we came so early. We couldn't wait another minute to see if you were okay."
"I'm sorry," Yash whispered, his voice thick with a month's worth of unspoken regret. He still couldn't pull his gaze away from the pavement, as if the asphalt held the answers to all his questions. "It was my fault... all of it. But I'm on my way to see Ram now." He paused, his hands stuffed deep into his Jeans pockets. "Are you guys coming with me?"
"Yes, we're coming," Himari said, her gaze fixed on Yash. "Brother Ram... he isn't doing well at all." As she spoke, Yash felt a sharp edge in his pocket. He reached in and pulled it out—a small, bright yellow butterfly hair clip. The plastic shimmered in the dull morning light, a cheerful object in a world that had gone grey. His breath hitched, and his eyes instantly flooded with tears as he stared at the tiny butterfly resting in his palm.
"Take it," Yash whispered, his hand trembling as he held the yellow butterfly toward her. "I bought it for you a month ago... that day I stopped by your house to see Stuti. You weren't home then, and I never got the chance to give it to you." He stood there, the small piece of plastic a bridge across the month of silence. Himari reached out, her fingers brushing his as she took the clip, her eyes never leaving his face.
Every minute felt like an eternity. In the stillness of the empty street, the only sounds were the mechanical ticking of the wheels and the soft, tired rhythm of Yash's footsteps. As Ram's gate came into view, the house appeared drained and hollow, struggling to breathe under the weight of the night.
Yash pressed the doorbell, holding it down frantically for ten long minutes. Finally, the door creaked open. A woman stood there, her eyes heavy and framed by deep, dark circles.
She instantly collapsed into a hug, clinging to Yash. "Oh, Yash... you're here," she choked out. "But it's too late. There's nothing left."
"What happened? Aunty, please!" Yash's voice cracked with panic. "Just tell me—is he okay? Please, just tell me he's alright!"
"He was back in his hometown, Nadbai, with his father and grandparents," she said, her voice hollow.
"He was… is he…?" Yash's voice trailed off, unable to finish the question. He gripped Stuti's right hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Aunty looked at him with a mix of awe and cold disappointment. "Go see him yourself," she snapped. "It's forty kilometres from here." Her eyes filled with tears again, and without another word, she turned and walked away.
"I have to get to the railway station," Yash said, his eyes fixated on the road ahead. "Himari, take your sister and go home." He didn't even look at them; his mind was already miles away.
"No," Stuti insisted, reaching out from behind to catch Yash's hand. "I'm coming too. He's my friend just as much as yours, Yash." She gripped his fingers tightly, her mind set. I can't let him go through this alone.
"Fine, then we have to go now," Yash said, his eyes glued to his phone. "The only train left is in thirty minutes." He didn't wait—he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and began to sprint down the road, with Himari running at full speed right beside them.
He flagged down a taxi and immediately hoisted Stuti into his arms. After quickly stowing the wheelchair in the trunk, he carefully settled her into the back seat. Yash then hopped into the front, with the two sisters behind him, and urged the driver, "Get us to the station—fast!"
Once they were safely on the train, Yash helped Stuti into a window seat. He was a ball of nervous energy, calling Ram repeatedly only to get voicemail every time. Himari looked at his shaking hands and spoke up. "Big brother, breathe," she pleaded. "Just sit with us. It's all going to work out, okay?"
He gave a small, resigned nod. Stuti gently rubbed his hand to soothe him and asked, "How did you know about Nadbai, anyway?"
"It's my mom's hometown," Yash replied, his voice low. He turned to her, a new worry crossing his face. "Did you tell your parents about this? We're going to be late getting back."
"Yes, we already told them we'd be late," Stuti replied calmly, her voice steady.
"Besides, Big Brother, it's you we're with," Himari added, looking at him with a smile. "Our parents would never say no to anything involving you."
Yash remained silent, absorbed in his phone until the station announcement rang out. He reached for Stuti, gently settling her into the wheelchair before navigating her out of the train. He kept a close eye on Himari, nodding for her to step out carefully onto the platform.
They began walking, with Yash leading them through the narrow lanes. Suddenly, they hit a patch of thick mud. Yash moved quickly, first grabbing Himari's arm to help her across to drier ground. Once she was safe, he turned back, calmly and carefully navigating Stuti's wheelchair through the mess.
They walked past the last few houses and were met by the sound of intense crying. A crowd had formed in the middle of the lane, surrounding a group of men. On their shoulders, they carried a white-wrapped frame. Yash froze; it looked exactly like a funeral procession.
With his heart thumping wildly, Yash raced forward, shielding the girls by keeping them in back. He shoved through the mourners and saw a man in the middle of a ritual, his head newly bald. He broke down completely, a flood of tears escaping his eyes like a storm that would never end.
Yash walked toward the man, who looked deathly ill himself; his eyes were fixed in a hard, hollow stare, and sweat matted his brow. When he saw Yash, he slapped him viciously across the face. "You're late!" he yelled, the words full of poison. "It's over. He was calling for you until the very end... and you weren't here." The man's face crumbled, and he started to cry uncontrollably, his strength finally failing him.
"No... please, Uncle, don't say that. Please," Yash choked out, his voice cracking. He threw his arms around the man, clinging to him as they both broke down. He stepped back for a moment, pressing his palms together in a desperate plea. "Forgive me," he sobbed, begging for mercy as his heart finally shattered.
The man shoved Yash aside and turned back toward the funeral pyre. "Even at his worst, he was thinking of you," he spat, the words dripping with grief. "For thirty days, his only wish was to see you one last time. He was so stubborn—he told us he wouldn't pick up your calls until you showed up in person. But you never came."
"He suffered so much, Yash," the man choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We knew he wouldn't survive, but he needed you at the end. You were like a brother to him." He broke down again, turning away to light the funeral pyre and surrender his son's body to the flames.
Everything started to go dark for Yash. He felt the warm stickiness of a nosebleed, but before he could wipe it away, the rain arrived. Cold water splashed against his forehead, stinging his eyes and mixing with the blood on his cheeks. He remained seated in the mud, staring at nothing while the downpour tried to wash his grief away.
Suddenly, he forced himself up and stumbled toward the pyre. He stared down at the body, his eyes wide and haunting. "What happened to you?" he choked out. "Why did you leave me? You were all I had. Oh, Ram... look what you've done to me." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his friend's cold forehead, then turned and walked away with shaky steps.
The whispers from the crowd began to trail after him like ghosts. "He was so young... only fifteen," one voice drifted over.
"He'd been struggling with severe asthma for a month, and now he's gone," another added. "It's such a tragedy."
Then, a sharper voice cut through the rain. "Was that Ram's friend? What a cold-hearted person. He should have visited him at least once."
He sprinted back toward Stuti, but his feet gave way on the slick ground. He wiped out, mud coating his clothes and skin. He sat there for a second, clutching his head with both hands as if trying to keep his world from breaking apart. Finally, he forced himself up and stumbled over to Stuti, who was sobbing. "Let's go," he choked out, reaching for her. "We have to go."
Stuti was sobbing uncontrollably as she looked up at him. "He's gone, Yash... and there's nothing we can do," she wailed. "All my friends are dying, and it's all because of me. I'm a curse to everyone I love. I killed them!" She broke down again, her small frame shaking with the weight of her guilt.
Yash glared at the sisters; his face twisted in a mask of rage. He lunged toward Stuti, stopping just short of hitting her. "You want the truth?" he roared, the words cutting like glass. "You're a burden to everyone. You're killing your parents' bank account and wasting our lives. If you're such bad luck, you should have been the one to go!" He slammed his hands onto the wheelchair and began pushing it at a dangerous speed, yanking Himari along beside him without looking back.
He boarded the train and, despite the fury still boiling inside him, his movements were mechanical as he lifted Stuti and settled her into a seat. He pulled his jacket off and draped it over both sisters to cover their soaked clothes, trying to shield them from the prying eyes of the other passengers. Even as he cared for them, his face remained a mask of seething rage.
Stuti's voice was a broken record of "I'm sorry" through her tears. Yash ignored her, his eyes suddenly falling on a photo on his phone—Ram's last birthday. There he was, laughing with Dheeru, Vini, and himself. He froze, paralyzed by the happy faces in the image. Then, he exploded. "What do you want from me? Just shut your mouth!" he roared at them. "After today, don't ever come near me again!" Both girls collapsed into fresh sobs, the finality of his words cutting deeper than the cold rain.
They disembarked as soon as the train pulled into their stop. Yash's movements were automatic; he lifted Stuti carefully, his hand supporting her back as he settled her into the waiting taxi. Without a word to the sisters, he climbed into the front seat. "Drop them at the school area first," he told the driver, his voice flat. "Then take me to the south side."
"But sir, your area is closer. We'll pass it first," the driver pointed out.
Yash turned on him, his voice cracking with fury. "Didn't you hear me? Go to the school area first! I'll pay you extra, just do as I say!" The driver flinched and nodded, quickly shifting the car into gear.
The taxi pulled up to the curb, and both sisters stepped out into the night. Yash kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge them. "Big brother... please," Himari sobbed, leaning toward the window. "We're so sorry."
"Drive," Yash barked at the driver, his voice like stone. The car pulled away, leaving the sisters standing alone on the sidewalk as he vanished into the dark.
"He's hurting so much, Himari. That's not who he really is," Stuti said, trying to comfort her younger sister. "But he's blinded by his own pain right now. He won't hear a word we say." She wrapped her arms around Himari, holding her close as they stood alone in the rain.