(Speaker: okay folks. last chapter truth bomb dropped. blood cancer. one year. betrayal. everything. now what. what happens when your entire world crashes and there's no ctrl+z.)
morning didn't feel like morning.
shubham lying on floor. eyes open. staring at ceiling fan not moving because electricity bill two months late. her words stuck in his head on repeat like corrupted audio file.
blood cancer. one year. incurable.
he kept thinking. what if i debug this. what if there's some solution some stackoverflow answer some github issue someone already solved. obviously stupid. obviously no answer for dying. but brain wouldn't stop trying.
one year.
how do you use one year.
how do you make it enough.
above him on bed she also awake. he could tell. breathing different. not sleep breathing. awake breathing. thinking breathing maybe crying breathing he couldn't tell.
sun came up slow. delhi woke up like always. chai wallah yelling outside. chai garam chai. rickshaw honking. someone's ma screaming beta school chalega ya nahi. neighbor's radio playing old kishore kumar song.
normal day.
except nothing normal anymore.
"hey," he said. voice rough from not sleeping.
"hey."
silence. heavy silence. the kind that sits on chest and won't move.
what do you even say. after someone tells you're dying. after everything. he tried remember any conversation any advice any tutorial for this. nothing. blank. error 404 words not found.
"so," he started. stopped. throat tight. "one year."
she nodded. still not looking at him. clutching his blanket like it was anchor. only thing keeping her from floating away.
he sat up. rubbed face. tried organize thoughts refused to compile. "okay."
she turned then. looked at him properly. "okay what."
"okay we use it."
"use what."
"one year." he met her eyes. red from crying. tired. scared. "we use every single day. i don't know how yet but we figure it out. together. i'll help you. we'll—"
"shubham stop." her voice flat. dead. like she already gave up. "you don't owe me anything."
"i know."
"then why." she pulled blanket tighter. "why are you doing this. we met four days ago. four. you don't know me. i'm not your responsibility. i'm not your problem."
he wanted to say so many things. wanted to say because i watched you in office for six months. because you're only girl who ever made my heart do that stupid racing thing. because when you laugh whole room lights up. because thought of you jumping still makes me want to throw up.
but he chickened out.
"because i want to," he said instead. simple. honest. only truth he could manage. "is that enough."
she stared at him. long time. searching his face for lies maybe. or hope. or reason why anyone would be this stupid.
then quiet. so quiet he almost missed it.
"okay."
he made chai.
burnt the toast. again.
seriously how do people burn toast. it's literally one job. put bread in toaster. take bread out. somehow his came out black.
she sat at table. still in his shirt. hair messy. no makeup. face puffy from crying. still most beautiful thing he ever seen.
stupid heart wouldn't listen to logic.
his phone buzzed. message.
then rang.
Ma calling.
his stomach dropped. heart stopped. brain crashed. all systems failure.
she saw his face. "answer it."
he picked up. hands shaking. put on speaker because couldn't hold phone steady.
"shubham beta." ma's voice. that particular tone. that i've been thinking all night and you're in trouble tone. "this weekend. ghar aana hai. patna. bring her. no excuses. no nonsense. sharma aunty won't stop calling. whole building talking. i need answers beta. proper answers."
he opened mouth. nothing came out. absolutely nothing.
"saturday train. both of you. understand." not question. order.
"ma—"
"no ma. saturday. i'm your mother i raised you alone after your papa died you owe me truth at least." her voice cracked little. "just truth beta. that's all i'm asking."
silence.
then. "okay ma."
"good. send me train details. i'll make food." click. call ended.
he stared at phone like it betrayed him. like it personally ruined his life.
"what," she asked quiet.
he looked at her. panic rising. "three days."
"three days what."
"we have three days." he laughed. not funny laugh. desperate laugh. breaking laugh. "three days to figure out what we are. because ma wants to meet you. wants explanation. wants truth. and i don't even know what truth is anymore."
she put cup down. "so we tell her truth."
"which is what." his voice went high. couldn't control it. "hi ma this is random girl i saved from bridge four days ago she's dying of cancer we share bed but we're not together together we just exist in same space and oh yeah whole building thinks we're married because i panicked and lied. that truth."
silence.
she bit lip. looked down. "we're idiots."
"yeah."
"complete total idiots."
"established fact."
outside someone started playing cricket. kids yelling. bat hitting ball. normal life continuing like world wasn't ending.
"what do we tell her," she asked finally.
"i don't know." he buried face in hands. "i don't know anything anymore."
she reached across table. put hand on his. small gesture. huge meaning.
"then we figure it out," she said. "together. like you said."
he looked up. her eyes still scared. still sad. but also something else. something like maybe hope. maybe trust.
"okay," he said.
"okay."
day one. thursday.
office was hell.
boss screaming about client presentation. code breaking in production. everyone panicking.
and shubham? sitting at desk. smiling at phone.
because she texted him. small things. random things.
there's a cat outside. orange. fat. reminded me you said you like cats.
cleaned your kitchen. found maggi from 2019. should i call health department.
stop smiling at work people will think you're weird.
too late already weird.
shut up focus on work.
can't. thinking about you.
he hit send before brain caught up. then panicked. delete delete how do you delete oh shit—
idiot. she replied. then three dots. then. me too.
his face burned. ears hot. stupid grin wouldn't go away.
"bro." rohan leaned over cubicle wall. grinning. "bro."
"what."
"you're SMILING. at PHONE. you never smile. ever. not even when code compiles first try."
"shut up rohan."
"who is she." rohan grabbed his chair rolled closer. "come on. spill. is it someone from office. wait—" his eyes went wide. "is it reshma from marketing."
shubham's heart stopped. "what. no. why would you—"
"OH MY GOD IT IS." rohan's grin went nuclear. "dude everyone knows you stare at her during lunch. this is HUGE. how did you—"
"rohan." voice flat. final. "drop it."
"but—"
"drop it."
rohan raised hands. backed off. then leaned in. whispered. "be careful yeah. heard wedding scandal. people talk."
shubham's jaw locked. "people should shut up."
"just saying."
after rohan left. screen blurred. code meaningless.
people talk.
one more problem. perfect.
day two. friday morning.
he woke up to her not there.
bed empty. bathroom empty. kitchen empty.
panic.
"reshma?" he called. nothing.
checked his phone. no message. no call.
then saw it. paper on table. folded. his name on top in neat handwriting.
his hands shook opening it.
shubham,
i'm sorry. i can't do this. can't lie to your mother. can't ruin your life more than i already have. you've been so kind. too kind. but this needs to stop before someone gets hurt.
thank you for everything. for pulling me back. for letting me stay. for making me feel human again even for few days.
please don't look for me. i'll be fine.
sorry.
— reshma
his brain short-circuited.
then rebooted in pure panic mode.
grabbed phone. called her. straight to voicemail.
shit shit shit.
where would she go. she doesn't know delhi. doesn't have money. doesn't—
he grabbed keys wallet ran.
rajiv chowk metro. 9:47 am.
she stood on platform. lost. confused. overwhelmed.
turns out writing mature goodbye letter easier than navigating delhi metro.
she had enough money for ticket. barely. but now standing here watching trains come and go and announcement in hindi english both making no sense and people pushing and she had absolutely no idea which line which direction which anything.
yellow line. blue line. violet line. all lines looked same.
she wanted to cry. wanted to laugh. wanted to disappear.
mature enough to leave. too stupid to actually execute escape plan.
perfect.
"excuse me." she stopped random aunty. "rajouri garden kaise jaaye."
aunty looked at her like she crazy. "blue line le lo. new delhi ke through."
"which platform."
"woh wala." aunty pointed vaguely at three different platforms then walked away.
helpful.
she stood there. frozen. people flowing around her like river around rock.
this was mistake. huge mistake. she should go back. but pride wouldn't let her. she wrote letter. declared independence. can't just crawl back now—
"RESHMA!"
her heart stopped.
she turned.
shubham running. pushing through crowd. hair messy. shirt buttoned wrong. eyes wild. desperate.
he reached her. grabbed her shoulders. "what the hell. what the hell. you can't just—" breathing hard. "you left. you wrote letter and left."
"i had to."
"why."
"because!" voice cracking. loud. people staring. "because i'm ruining your life. because your office knows. because your family expects wedding. because i'm dying shubham and you're trying to save me and you can't. no one can."
silence. platform noise around them. but between them just silence.
then he laughed.
hysterical broken beautiful laugh.
"what's funny," she demanded. getting angry now.
"you." he laughed harder. tears in eyes. "you wrote whole mature goodbye letter. proper grammar. proper everything. but you can't even take metro. you're standing on yellow line platform. rajouri garden is blue line. completely different direction."
she stared. then looked at sign above. yellow line.
her face went hot. "shut up."
"you got lost."
"i said shut up."
"you tried to dramatically disappear but got lost in metro station."
"SHUBHAM."
he pulled her into hug. sudden. tight. desperate.
"don't leave," he whispered into her hair. "please. i know you're scared. i'm scared too. but don't leave."
she froze. then slowly. arms came up. hugged back. face pressed into his chest. tears finally coming.
"i don't know how to do this," she whispered.
"me neither."
"i don't want to hurt you."
"too late. already hurt. been hurt since bridge. might as well be hurt together."
Random uncle walking past stopped. looked at them. "arre beta. wife ko aise platform pe muna chhod ke mat jao. dekho ro rahi hai. take care of her properly."
shubham's ears turned red. "sorry uncle."
uncle walked away shaking head. muttering about modern couples.
reshma pulled back. face wet. eyes puffy. "he called me your wife."
"yeah."
"and you didn't correct him."
"no."
"why."
he wiped her tears with his thumb. gentle. careful. "because maybe i want it to be true."
her breath caught.
"one year or fifty years i don't care." his voice urgent. raw. "whatever time you have. i want it. all of it. even if it kills me. even if everyone's watching. even if we're complete idiots. i want this. want you. understand?"
she stared at him. tears still falling. then.
punched his arm.
"ow! what—"
"you're an idiot."
"i know."
"complete mosshead."
"established fact."
"and i'm still leaving."
"no you're not."
"why not."
"because you don't even know which metro line." he grinned through tears. "you'll end up in rohini or somewhere. then i'll have to rescue you again. very inefficient. waste of time."
she wanted to stay angry. wanted to hold ground.
but laughed instead. broke. exhausted. gave up.
"i hate you," she said.
"no you don't."
"i should."
"but you don't."
she looked at him. really looked. messy hair. wrong buttons. eyes still scared but also stubborn. refusing to let go.
"okay," she whispered.
"okay what."
"okay i'll come. meet your ma. do this stupid thing." she grabbed his collar. pulled him down. "but if this goes wrong. if i hurt you. if everything crashes. i'm blaming you."
"deal." he was smiling. actual real smile. "now come on. we have train to catch tomorrow. and you need to learn how to metro."
"shut up."
"never."
they walked back hand in hand. her still embarrassed. him still grinning. both still idiots.
but maybe that was okay.
friday evening. practice session.
they sat cross legged on bed. paper between them. his notes in terrible handwriting.
"okay." she squinted. "your ma's name again."
"sudha. but call her ma or aunty ji. safer."
"priya is your sister. sixteen. astrology obsessed."
"yeah. she'll probably film you. for reels. ignore her. she does that to everyone."
reshma looked up. "what do i tell them about my family."
pause. heavy question.
"truth. mostly. parents in pune. came delhi for work. they're traditional. don't approve." he squeezed her hand. "that's enough."
"how did we meet."
"office. coffee machine. hit it off." he looked at her. "compressed timeline but not lie."
"from six months of you staring to four days of crisis."
his ears red. "i didn't stare."
"rohan said you stare."
"rohan talks too much."
she smiled. small. real. "what else do i need to know."
"ma's strict but fair. loves food. if you compliment her cooking you win forever. priya's loud but harmless. just roll with it. neighbors are nosy. smile and don't give details." he grabbed her hand. "and if anything gets too much. if anyone asks something you can't answer. just squeeze my hand. i'll save you."
"promise?"
"promise."
"okay." she looked at notes. at him. at future approaching too fast. "one more question."
"yeah?"
"when did you fall in love with me."
his brain crashed. rebooted. crashed again.
"i—what—who said—"
"you did. on bridge. first night. i love you remember."
"that was panic talking."
"was it."
he looked at her. really looked. her eyes serious. scared. hoping.
silence. heavy. terrifying.
"no," he said finally. voice barely working. "not panic. truth."
more silence. her waiting. him drowning.
"been in love with you since first time i saw you." words coming slow. difficult. like pulling teeth. "office cafeteria. six months ago. you were laughing with your friends. whole room lit up. and i just. stood there. like idiot. holding coffee. staring."
he looked down at their hands. easier than her eyes.
"every day after that. couldn't stop. tried. failed. then bridge. and pulling you back. and you in my room. and—" voice cracking. "every second you've been here. every burnt toast. every stupid argument. all of it. been in love through all of it."
silence.
he risked looking up.
she was crying. quiet tears. just falling.
"that enough truth for you," he whispered.
she nodded. couldn't speak.
they sat there. hands linked. hearts breaking. both terrified.
"i don't know how to do this," she said finally.
"me neither."
"we're going to mess it up."
"probably."
"one year," she whispered. reality crashing back.
"or fifty. don't care which."
"you should. one year is nothing."
"one year with you beats fifty without." he tried to smile. failed. "simple math."
she laughed. wet. broken. "you're terrible at math."
"excuse me." mock offense. "i scored 81% in 10th boards. that's very respectable."
"such a nerd."
"you love it."
pause. that word. love.
"yeah," she whispered. first time saying it. "i think i do."
his heart stopped. restarted. exploded.
wanted to kiss her. wanted to hold her. wanted to freeze this moment forever.
but they were both terrified. both new at this. both awkward.
so instead he just squeezed her hand.
she squeezed back.
good enough.
for now.
they stayed like that. holding each other. pretending tomorrow wouldn't come. pretending this was enough.
maybe it was.
saturday morning. delhi junction. 6:15 am.
they stood on platform. backpacks. tickets. fear.
the smpark kranti express waited. big metal beast hissing steam. ready to swallow them take them to village to ma to truth they weren't ready for.
platform chaos. coolies yelling side side. families hugging goodbye. chai wallah navigating crowd like expert. smell of samosas sweat diesel everything.
she looked nervous. kept adjusting dupatta. fixing hair. biting lip.
"you okay," he asked.
"no." honest. "you?"
"terrified."
"good. me too."
whistle blew. final boarding call.
"last chance to run," he said. half joking. half serious.
she looked at him. then at train. then back.
"already tried running. got lost remember. you're stuck with me now."
"good." he grabbed her hand. squeezed. "ready?"
"no."
"me neither."
they climbed in together.
(Speaker: and they're off. delhi to patna. lies and truth and family and fear. next stop: emotional damage station. tickets non-refundable. buckle up folks.)
Cliffhanger → Train moving. No turning back. His family waiting. Her secrets hiding. Both of them pretending they know what they're doing. Spoiler: they absolutely don't.