CHAPTER 4- THE SHADOW THAT BINDS US

The walls of the room seemed to close in on her, the weight of Agastya’s obsession suffocating her as she stood frozen. The photographs, the letters, the pieces of her life displayed like relics in a shrine—it was too much.

Too overwhelming. Too consuming.

The peacock-feather ring glinted in the dim light, resting in the center of the desk as if mocking her. It was the ring she had thought was lost forever, now back in her life in a way she couldn’t fathom.

She didn’t need to stay here to know the truth. She didn’t need more confessions, more explanations. Everything she had seen screamed one undeniable fact: Rudra had never existed. Agastya had been there all along, hiding behind another name, another life.

Her breaths came in shallow bursts as her thoughts spiraled. This was the man who had comforted her, laughed with her, and listened to her dreams. And this was the same man who had betrayed her trust—not just once, but twice.

She turned away from the walls, from the memories he had stolen and preserved. She couldn’t stay here any longer.

The night air was cold as Avantika hailed a cab, the city lights of Mumbai blurring in her vision. The streets she had once called home felt foreign now, tainted by the revelation that had turned her world upside down.

“Airport,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos raging inside her.

The driver nodded, weaving through the bustling traffic as the city swirled around her. Avantika stared out the window, her thoughts as fragmented as the rain streaking across the glass.

She couldn’t stay. Not in this city, not in this life, not with the weight of Agastya’s love crushing her. She had given him a second chance—trusted him again, let him into her life—but he had deceived her at every turn.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she glanced down. The message on the screen made her chest tighten.

“Avantika, please don’t leave. Let me explain.”

She locked the phone without replying, her jaw tightening. There was nothing he could say that would undo what he had done. Nothing that could erase the months of lies or the way he had built his life around her without her knowledge.

The cab pulled up to the airport, and she stepped out, her hands gripping the handle of her suitcase as she made her way inside.

Hours later, Avantika found herself seated by the window of a plane, the hum of the engines vibrating beneath her feet. She stared out at the endless expanse of darkness beyond the glass, her reflection staring back at her.

Leaving had been the only choice. She couldn’t confront Agastya, couldn’t demand answers to questions she wasn’t ready to hear. The truth was a wound she couldn’t bear to reopen, and staying in Mumbai meant letting him follow her, letting him pull her back into the coil of his love and his lies.

She let her forehead rest against the cool glass, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. For the first time in months, she allowed herself to cry—not just for the betrayal, but for the loss of what could have been.

She cried for the boy she had loved, the man she had trusted, and the stranger who had broken her heart. She cried for the years she had spent trying to rebuild herself, only to be shattered once more. And she cried for the father she had lost, whose death now felt more like a mystery than a memory.

As the plane took off, Avantika closed her eyes, letting the hum of the engines lull her into a restless sleep. She didn’t know where this journey would take her, but she knew one thing for certain:

She couldn’t let Agastya control her life any longer.

Six Months Later

The hills of Tuscany stretched out before her, golden under the afternoon sun. Avantika sat at a small café overlooking the vineyards, a notebook open in front of her. Writing had become her solace in these months of solitude, a way to piece together her thoughts and make sense of the chaos she had left behind.

She had built a quiet life here, far from the noise of Mumbai and the shadow of Agastya. For the first time in years, she felt free. And yet, there was a void inside her, one she couldn’t ignore.

She glanced down at the page she had been writing, the words blurring as her mind wandered.

Agastya’s voice lingered in her memory, his confessions playing on a loop she couldn’t escape. She hated him for what he had done, but she couldn’t deny the depth of his love—the way he had fought for her, even in the most misguided of ways.

Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling her from her thoughts. She hesitated before picking it up, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the sender.

Unknown Number.

She opened the message, her breath catching as she read the words:

“It’s not over, Avantika. You deserve the truth.”

The café seemed to fade around her, the sunlight dimming as a chill crept over her skin. She glanced around, half-expecting to see him standing in the shadows, watching her like he always had.

But there was no one.

The message stared back at her, a haunting reminder that no matter how far she ran, the past would always find her.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, torn between deleting the message and replying. In the end, she did neither. She locked the phone and tucked it into her bag, forcing herself to focus on the page in front of her.

But the words wouldn’t come.

The truth was a shadow she couldn’t outrun, and Agastya was its keeper.

The air was crisp as Avantika stepped off the plane, her breath visible in the cold. Kashmir’s snow-covered mountains greeted her like old friends, their stoic beauty unchanged by time. She clutched her scarf tighter around her neck, bracing herself against the chill and the flood of memories that came rushing back.

Fifteen years.

Fifteen years since she had left India, vowing never to return. She had built a life far away, immersing herself in her writing, burying herself in work that allowed her to forget—or at least try to forget—the city and the man who had broken her heart.

But some ties could never truly be severed.

Her mother’s voice on the phone had been soft, yet insistent. “I want to see you, Avantika. I don’t know how much time I have left.”

And so, here she was, back in the land of her childhood, her heart heavy with emotions she couldn’t name.

The family house in Srinagar was smaller than she remembered, its walls weathered by years of snow and rain. The garden, once vibrant with her father’s favorite flowers, was now overgrown, the petals long replaced by weeds.

Her mother greeted her at the door, her frail frame wrapped in layers of wool.

“You came,” her mother said, her eyes filling with tears.

Avantika smiled, pulling her into a gentle hug. “Of course I did.”

The first few days passed in a blur. Avantika spent her mornings by her mother’s bedside, listening to stories of the Kashmir she had once known. In the afternoons, she wandered the meadows and valleys, hoping the stillness of the landscape would quiet her restless thoughts.

But the peace she sought remained elusive.

Even here, in the sanctuary of her childhood, the ghosts of her past lingered. Agastya’s face haunted her dreams, his voice echoing in her mind. She had tried to forget him, tried to erase the way he had consumed her life, but some memories refused to fade.

It happened on an overcast afternoon, the air heavy with the promise of snow. Avantika had ventured out to the Dal Lake, the sight of its frozen surface stirring something deep within her. She stood by the shore, watching the clouds roll in over the mountains, her scarf fluttering in the breeze.

And then she felt it.

A presence.

She turned, her breath catching in her throat.

He stood a few feet away, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. Time had aged him, streaks of gray weaving through his dark hair, but his eyes—the eyes that had once looked at her like she was his whole world—hadn’t changed.

“Avantika,” he said, his voice a whisper carried by the wind.

For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as fifteen years of distance collapsed between them.

“What are you doing here?” she managed, her voice trembling.

“I came for you,” he said simply, his gaze never leaving hers.

Her heart twisted painfully, anger and longing warring within her. “You don’t get to do this,” she said, her tone sharp. “You don’t get to show up after all this time and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I’m not pretending,” he said softly. “I know what I did, Avantika. I know I hurt you in ways I can never take back. But I had to see you.”

She shook her head, turning away. “You don’t understand. I spent years trying to forget you. Years trying to rebuild myself after the way you tore me apart.”

“Did you ever miss me?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking. “In those fifteen years, did you ever think about me?”

Her shoulders stiffened, her breath hitching. She closed her eyes, willing herself to stay composed, but the words came before she could stop them.

“Yes, I did,” she said, her voice trembling. “But not fifteen years—it was fourteen years, eleven months, twenty days, forty-eight minutes, and sixteen seconds.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded.

Agastya took a step closer, his expression filled with a mixture of hope and heartbreak. “Then why did you leave me?” he asked. “Why didn’t you let me explain?”

She turned to face him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Because there was nothing you could say that would have made it right. You lied to me, Agastya. You built your life around me without my consent. You took away my choice.”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “And I’ve spent every day of these fifteen years wishing I could undo it. But I can’t. All I can do is tell you the truth now and hope that it’s enough.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “The truth? You think that’s what I want? After all these years, all the pain you caused, you think the truth will fix this?”

“No,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “But you deserve it, Avantika. You deserve to know everything.”

Her chest ached at the sincerity in his voice, the raw vulnerability in his eyes. She wanted to walk away, to leave him standing there in the snow, but something kept her rooted in place.

“What do you want from me?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I want a chance,” he said. “Not to erase the past, but to make amends. To show you that I’ve changed.”

She looked at him, the man who had once been her everything. The man she had loved with every fiber of her being and hated with equal intensity.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I even want to.”

He nodded, his expression somber. “I don’t expect you to. But I’ll wait, Avantika. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Her heart twisted painfully as she turned away, her footsteps crunching softly in the snow. She didn’t look back, but his words followed her, lingering in the cold air.

That night, as she sat by the fire in her mother’s house, Avantika stared into the flames, her thoughts a chaotic tangle of emotions. She had spent fifteen years running from the past, but it had found her anyway.

Agastya’s face filled her mind, his voice echoing in her ears.

“Did you ever miss me?”

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. The truth was, she didn’t know what she felt anymore—anger, longing, or something in between.

But one thing was certain:

Her story with Agastya wasn’t over.