Chapter 5: Shattered & Reborn

In the end, Arjun never tasted my dal soup. He didn’t return to the office. I was called to the old house by Arjun’s mother. The rain turned Mumbai into a river, autos splashing, traffic crawling. The old bungalow smelled of damp earth and incense. Arjun’s mother fussed with her keys, muttering in Marathi about the maid’s chai never matching mine. She shoved a thermos at me: "Maza Arjun la soup gheun ja, mala sangitla ki raatla flight ahe. Jaldi kar!"

As I changed shoes at the door, I overheard her hissing to the maid: "She’s finally leaving. Arjun has feelings for that assistant, but guilt keeps him tied to that bad-luck girl. Now the assistant’s in hospital—perfect excuse. Let’s see if this jinx files for divorce."

Her words stabbed deep. I left in a daze, rain blurring the world. On the highway, blinded by headlights, I swerved to avoid a truck. My car tumbled down the hillside, a banyan branch tearing through my shoulder. I woke to pain, rain, and the metallic taste of blood.

I thought of Kabir’s words, Arjun’s mother’s taunts. I almost let go, but a voice kept calling my name: "Meera… Meera…" Insistent, stubborn, like Amma scolding me awake for school.

I tried calling 108, but the operator grew impatient. I called Arjun, but he didn’t answer. My phone’s battery was dying. As my consciousness faded, I hallucinated—Arjun and Priya together in his office, hands tangled, phone buzzing with my name, ignored. The betrayal burned, but mostly I felt tired.

I let the rain soak me, thinking: Maybe this is all I deserve. Maybe dying quietly is best—no longer a burden.

A faint voice: "Meera?" But I couldn’t answer. My soul felt like it was scattering in the wind, merging with the monsoon rain.