"Aadhya? Where are you? Damn… my phone was on silent, I missed your call."I called out, my voice heavy with worry.
I thought I'd find her asleep, so I headed straight to the bedroom. But instead, I heard her soft voice coming from the balcony.
"I'm here, Siddharth."
That tone—it sent a chill down my spine. There was something disturbingly heavy in it.
I rushed to the living room, aiming for the balcony, but the door was locked. Through the glass, I saw her—standing on the edge. Aadhya, in a flowing white dress, her eyes red and puffy, as if she'd been crying forever.
She turned her head slightly. Our eyes met through the glass—empty, resigned, like she'd already said goodbye.
And then… she jumped.
For a split second, my world stopped. My mind went blank.
Panic surged through me as I broke open the door and stumbled onto the balcony of the 21st floor. Below, everything blurred—sirens, shouting, bodies moving like ants around a fallen leaf.
My heart raced. Disbelief gripped me like a vice.
Is this a nightmare?Could this be real?
The questions swirled endlessly, making it hard to breathe.
Just as I felt myself slipping, my eyes landed on a letter on the table—her handwriting, unmistakable. It beckoned.
My hands trembled as I picked it up and began to read.
"Hey Siddharth,
I'm so sorry. I love you so much. And that's why I have to let you go.
I can't live like this forever. I can't drag you into it with me.
What Arun said is right. I don't deserve you. You'll never find the happiness you truly deserve with someone like me.
I know you would never leave me. Even if I ran, you'd spend every moment searching for me.
So… I'm going very far.
Find a better life. Take care of yourself.
— Aadhya"
Overwhelmed, I dashed toward the lift—only for the power to cut out. No time. I bolted for the stairs.
By the time I reached the ground floor, a crowd had gathered around her motionless body. Police lights and ambulance sirens flashed like some cruel, twisted light show.
I pushed through the onlookers, breath shallow, heart hollow.
Then I heard it—whispers. Some claimed she didn't jump. That someone pushed her.A man.
My name was already with the police. My photo too.
Accusations flew, and in that instant, something colder than fear hit me.
It was a setup.
I sprinted away from the scene, my heart pounding in my chest, and quickly snatched a cap from a nearby vendor.
With the cap pulled low over my eyes, I slipped into the bustling crowd and boarded a local train just as it was about to depart.
As the train rumbled along the tracks, I sank into my seat, lost in thought, tracing back the tangled web of events to where it all began two decades ago.