CH – 3 Chaos of the past.

The rain whispered against the windows, its rhythm soft yet relentless. Avantika sat curled on the edge of her couch, her fingers brushing against the peacock-feather ring. The faint hum of the
cassette player on the table seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat, and though the tape had
long stopped, Agastya’s voice still lingered in the air.
“Sometimes love demands silence.”
The words had been tender, yet they carried an ache that refused to leave her chest. It was as if they
weren’t just words—they were a question, a plea, and a confession all at once.
Avantika let out a slow breath, her eyes drifting to the city lights outside. The storm had muted the
usual chaos of Mumbai, casting a dreamy haze over the night. But inside, her world felt anything but
calm. Memories of Agastya surged through her mind—his intense gaze, the way his voice had always
seemed to carry unspoken promises, and the way he had loved her with an urgency that had both
scared and consumed her.
A sharp knock at the door broke the spell, startling her. It was late—too late for visitors. She
hesitated, the air around her suddenly heavy, but the knock came again, louder this time. Swallowing
the unease rising in her throat, she stood and moved toward the door.
Through the peephole, she saw nothing but the dimly lit hallway. When she opened the door, only the
rain greeted her, splashing onto the tiles of the corridor. She almost shut the door when she noticed
it—a package, small and carefully wrapped in damp plastic.
Her name was scrawled across the top in hurried, unmistakable handwriting.
Her heart twisted as she bent to pick it up. Even before she opened it, she knew who it was from.
Back on the couch, she unwrapped the package with trembling fingers. Inside was a notebook, its
leather cover worn and frayed as if it had been handled a thousand times. Her pulse quickened. It
looked like something pulled from the depths of a secret—something never meant to be found.
The scent of aged paper drifted into the air as she opened the first page. Agastya’s handwriting
stared back at her, bold and achingly familiar.
—————————————————————-
“Avantika,
Some truths are too stubborn to stay buried. I never stopped loving you, even when I lost you. This notebook is my heart, my soul. It’s all I have left to give you. Please, before you cast it aside, read my story.”
—————————————————————-
Her breath caught, and she could almost hear his voice in her ear, soft and insistent. As she flipped
through the pages, her chest tightened. The notebook was filled with sketches, poems, and
fragments of lyrics. But more than that, it was filled with her.

Each page carried a piece of her, whether it was a drawing of her smile, the curve of her jaw, or the
light in her eyes that he had once told her reminded him of dawn. His love for her was laid bare in every line, every word. It was intoxicating and overwhelming.

She stopped on a page where the date caught her eye. It was from the day she had left him.
—————————————————————
“I watched her walk away, and I felt the ground beneath me give way. How do you let go of the only person who ever made you feel alive? I wanted to call out to her, but what would I have said? That I
lied? That I loved her too much to tell her the truth? She deserved better than my silence, but it was all I could give her.”

—————————————————————-
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She had spent years resenting him, blaming him for the secrets he
had kept, but reading his words now, she felt the weight of his pain. His silence had been an act of
love, but it had cost them both everything.
She turned the page, her breath hitching as she read the next entry.
—————————————————————
“Her father’s death wasn’t an accident. It was planned. And the man responsible is closer than she’ll
ever know. I have to protect her, even if it means she’ll never forgive me.

—————————————————————-
Avantika froze, her mind racing. Her father’s death had always been a wound she carried, a tragedy
she thought she had come to terms with. But Agastya’s words unraveled everything she believed to
be true. If he was right, then her father’s death wasn’t just a loss—it was a betrayal.
Her phone buzzed on the table, jolting her from her thoughts. She grabbed it, her pulse quickening as
she read the message from an unknown number.
“You’ve opened the notebook. Now follow its pages if you want the truth.

The cryptic words sent a chill down her spine. She stared at the screen, her mind warring between
fear and curiosity. Before she could process what to do next, another message appeared.
“Turn to the last page.

Her hands shook as she flipped to the back of the notebook. The final page was stark, the writing
bold and deliberate.
—————————————————————-
“If you’re reading this, it means I’ve run out of time. But you need to know that everything I’ve done
was for you. The truth is out there, Avantika, but finding it will mean facing the shadows I tried to
shield you from. I hope you’ll forgive me. I hope you’ll understand.

—————————————————————-
Her vision blurred as tears slid down her cheeks. The words felt like a goodbye, a desperate plea from
a man who had loved her with an intensity that had both saved and destroyed them.
The rain outside grew louder, as though the storm itself was mourning with her. She clutched the
notebook to her chest, her thoughts a chaotic tangle of love, loss, and questions that refused to be
ignored.
A knock sounded again, softer this time. She froze, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice shaky.
No answer.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Open the door. It’s time.

Against every instinct telling her to stop, she moved toward the door, her breath shallow. When she
opened it, the hallway was empty once more, but something glimmered on the floor.
It was a single feather, painted in vibrant shades of blue and green.
A peacock feather.
She picked it up with trembling hands, the soft strands brushing against her skin. Her heart raced as
her gaze darted down the hallway, searching for any sign of who had left it. But there was nothing—
only the whisper of rain and the faint hum of the city.
Clutching the feather, she stepped back inside and bolted the door. The notebook, the messages, and
now this—the mystery was growing, and with it, a sense of inevitability.
Agastya’s presence was everywhere, in the rain, in the shadows, in the very air she breathed. And
despite everything, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t just a part of her past.
He was her destiny.
As she sat back on the couch, the feather resting beside the notebook, her thoughts drifted to him
once more. His love had always been an enigma—beautiful, consuming, and dangerous. And now, it
was pulling her into a world where nothing was as it seemed.
The storm outside raged on, but it was the storm within her that threatened to drown her. She knew
one thing for certain.
This was only the beginning.
Six Months Later
The sunlight filtered through the pale curtains of Avantika’s room, warming her skin as she stood by
the window. Six months had passed since that stormy night, but her mind remained clouded with
thoughts of Agastya.
In those six months, Rudra had become a constant presence in her life. He had been her solace, her
escape from the labyrinth of her past. With him, she found laughter again, a rare reprieve from the
shadows that clung to her.
But even Rudra couldn’t completely eclipse the lingering questions in her heart. She couldn’t forget
the notebook, the feather, or the messages. And though she never spoke of them, they haunted her
still.
Today, she was on her way to visit Rudra. He had left the city weeks ago for an unexpected trip, and
she hadn’t heard from him since. The silence gnawed at her, unsettling her in ways she couldn’t
explain.
When she arrived at his house, the door was unlocked. A faint unease prickled at the back of her neck
as she stepped inside.
“Rudra?” she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet space.
There was no answer.
She moved further into the house, her footsteps tentative. Everything was unnervingly still, as
though the house itself was holding its breath.
“Rudra?” she called again, her voice softer now.
She wandered through the living room, her eyes scanning the neat rows of books and the soft
cushions on the couch where they had once shared countless conversations. But something felt off. It
was too perfect, too staged—like a photograph of a life, rather than the life itself.
Her heart thudded louder in her chest as she climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The door at the end
of the hallway was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness spilling into the otherwise sunlit corridor.
She pushed it open, her steps faltering as her eyes landed on the walls.
A shrine of her life stared back at her.
Photographs, letters, and the peacock-feather ring she thought she’d lost. Every image, every object
spoke of a man consumed by her, a man who had immortalized her in a way that was both
breathtaking and terrifying.
The weight of his obsession crashed over her, leaving her breathless and reeling.
Her knees threatened to give way as she stepped further into the room, her gaze darting from one
image to the next. There were photos of her from years ago—images she hadn’t even known existed.
Letters she had written to friends but never sent. Newspaper clippings of her articles and awards.
And in the center of it all was the notebook she had received six months ago, now open on the desk.
Beside it lay a small cassette player and another tape, unmarked and waiting.
Her trembling hands reached for the tape, and she slid it into the player. For a moment, there was
nothing but static. And then his voice.
“ Avantika,
” the recording began, his tone soft, intimate.
“If you’re hearing this, then you’ve found the
truth. Or at least, a piece of it. I didn’t want you to know this way. I wanted to tell you myself. But I
ran out of time.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, her breath hitching as his words continued.
“I became Rudra for you. To be close to you again. To start over. To be the man you deserved. But
even with a new name, a new face, I couldn’t stop loving you the way I always have. You’ve been my
light, Avantika, my reason for everything. But the shadows that follow me… they’re darker than you
know.

Her heart twisted painfully as his voice broke.
“I know I’ve hurt you. I know you might hate me for this. But I need you to understand—I became
Rudra because I couldn’t bear the thought of a life without you. I needed a second chance, even if it
was built on a lie.

The tape ended abruptly, leaving her in a deafening silence.
Avantika’s mind spun, trying to reconcile the man she had trusted, the man who had comforted her,
with the man she now knew was Agastya. A part of her wanted to run, to leave this house and never
look back. But another part of her—the part that still remembered the boy who had once loved her so
completely—couldn’t move.
Her fingers grazed the notebook on the desk. Beneath it was a letter addressed to her.
She unfolded it, her breath catching as she read the final line:
—————————————————————-
“I’ll always love you, Avantika. But I’ll understand if this is goodbye.

—————————————————————-
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clutched the letter to her chest. The storm inside her raged once
more, but this time, it wasn’t just pain—it was longing. A longing to understand the man who had
given everything for her, even his identity.
As the sunlight began to fade, Avantika stood in the center of the room, surrounded by his love and
his lies.
She knew one thing for certain.
Her story with Agastya wasn’t over