Chapter 10: Aftermath and Escape

Bang bang bang...

The knocking was sharp, relentless. My heart hammered in my chest, every thud matching the knocks.

Bang bang bang...

Someone knocked on the door.

I felt like my heart was about to jump out.

Bang bang bang...

The knocking continued.

“Who is it?” I asked.

I tried to make my voice steady, but it came out as a squeak.

“Next door, Harish Bhaiya.”

His voice was gruff, flat. I swallowed, palms sweating.

“Wait a second.”

I scrambled to my feet, wiping my hands on my shorts, trying to look normal.

I tried to calm myself, put on my headphones, and opened the door.

The air in the hallway was stale, heavy with the smell of old curry and fear. I forced a smile, headphones dangling around my neck.

“Boss Harish? Not in your shop at this hour?”

I tried to sound casual, hoping my nerves didn’t show.

“Did I disturb you? What are you doing?”

He looked me up and down, eyes sharp as razors.

“Playing games, wearing headphones. If you hadn’t knocked, I wouldn’t have heard anything.” I pointed to my big over-ear headphones.

I laughed awkwardly, hoping he bought my act.

“Just checking on you. Come in and sit for a bit.”

His tone was almost friendly. But I could feel the tension in the air, like the moment before a monsoon downpour.

I let him in, pretending to be hospitable. “Come in, come in. It’s just me here—the place is messy.”

I waved him in, shoving a pile of clothes off the only chair. The air inside was thick with the smell of stale incense and sweat.

Harish Bhaiya walked around the room, then went to the balcony, staring at the railing. He reached out, grabbed a bar, and pulled hard. The railing didn’t move.

He tugged at it, testing its strength. I watched, stomach twisting.

“My balcony has a lot of stuff piled up. It’s not bothering you, right?” Harish Bhaiya looked at me and asked.

His gaze was sharp, searching my face for any sign of guilt.

“Balcony? Oh, I never go out there—the smell downstairs is too strong. I’m thinking of buying some weatherstripping to seal up the window.”

I shrugged, trying to sound bored. The truth was, I avoided the balcony like the plague.

This old building’s north side faced Harish Bhaiya’s fast food street, and the south side downstairs was the garbage station. The stench of kachra was so strong, the whole building sealed off their south balconies. Our two balconies, separated by railings, were very close.

Everyone in the building knew to keep their windows shut, especially in the summer. The garbage station below attracted every stray dog and crow in the city.

“As long as it’s not a bother, that’s good.” Harish Bhaiya went back inside, looked at my computer. The screen showed the game over screen, with big letters: [This game lasted 26 minutes.]

He glanced at the screen, then back at me. I shifted in my seat, willing him to leave.

“Boss Harish, what’s up?”

I forced a smile, hoping my teeth didn’t chatter.

“Nothing. Distant relatives aren’t as good as close neighbours—I wanted to invite you for a drink.”

His voice was smooth, almost too friendly. My nerves prickled.

“Now?” I looked at my phone. “It’s just after five, isn’t your shop busy?”

I tried to buy time, hoping he’d change his mind.

“Got staff. Let’s go drink somewhere else, come on.”

He clapped me on the back, his grip tight.

“Alright... thanks, I’ll change clothes.” Only then did I notice Harish Bhaiya had also changed clothes.

He wore a fresh shirt, his hair slicked back. It was the first time I’d seen him look so... polished.

I followed Harish Bhaiya downstairs, left the fast food street, and sat down at a barbecue stall a few hundred metres away.

The city buzzed around us—auto-rickshaws honking, men hawking belts and wallets. We sat at a grimy table, plastic stools wobbling beneath us.