• ADVIKA •

“Ved!” Ishaan, the first to react after seeing his suicidal best friend, went to Ved without caring that he was dying his white shirt red with blood. Those trembling hands of his reached out to his shirt pocket and took his mobile out, probably to call the ambulance.

As the situation prevailed for over two minutes— though we expected the ambulance to pull over— Ishaan carried him in bridal style, put him at the backseat, and sat next to him while putting Ved's head on his shoulder.

“Do you know how to drive a car?” He asked in a tone of urgency while I shook my head slowly, shame filling me over. Clicking his tongue, he asked, “It’s okay. Could you at least sit next to him? I'll drive the car.”

Nodding a yes, I sat next to Ved and gripped his head while Ishaan drove the car. As we heard a faint pinging sound, Ishaan gave his mobile to me and asked to check what was the message he had received.

“Ishaan, passcode?” I asked while the keypad was looking back at me.

“0829,” he stated while it took less than a second for me to find out what was the meaning behind those numbers. 29th August— my birth date.

Typing those numbers with a small smile, I checked the mail he received, which in turn wiped out the tiny smile that I had.

“Ishaan,” I called him with caution coating my tone. “A mail from Aadya Chatterjee. She had sent you five pics.”

The silence from Ishaan had let me know that I should open and see what it was. And so I saw the first photo attachment that looked more like an excerpt from a book. As I read the first line, I knew what book it was from.

A life without his Mehak, his Cookie, and his sound mind felt like death for Ved. That was when he thought, why not experience death all at once instead of prolonging it? Though the death of Mehak and his unborn baby was the reason for his inescapable sorrow, the other reason that could possibly kill him was the one Ishaan blabbered.

If he was a mere character from a book, then why would the “author” wish to ruin his life? What profit could that author ever get by ruining his life?

The thoughts whirling in his mind were so disturbing that he wanted to scream and cry even after doing the same for the past forty-eight hours.

I swiped right and continued reading the contents of the next page while the voice of Ishaan asking me what that was was heard by me at the back of my mind.

His thoughts transitioned from the events that happened two days ago to listing out various methods to die. Painless and slow, painless and fast, painful and slow, painful and fast were various categories how he categorised each method of death.

And finally, he went to one of the cupboards in his kitchen to take out his pocket knife with a surety that he had taken a decision faster than he decided to get into a serious relationship with Mehak and marry her.

I swiped right successfully with my hands trembling as though I was a septuagenarian with a blood pressure of 150 mmHg.

The thought of Mehak made him curl in on the floor and cry louder than he did when he was at the site of Mehak's accident three nights ago. Though no voice escaped from his vocal cord, all thanks to him crying incessantly for the past forty-eight hours, one could see him trying to scream aloud yet again.

Wiping his tears, he crawled to the living room, sat next to the place where Mehak's photo was placed, and took it for one last time while tracing the curl Mehak's brown lips had made with his finger. Reminiscing the moment when they were at Madrid two years ago, he couldn't help but admire his lady for one last time.

It felt as though everything was against me from reading what was there in the next pic. My eyes blurred out of tears. My hands trembled more than it did that I was on the verge of dropping his mobile. Yet, I swiped right, knowing what would have happened next.

Placing it where it belonged, he faced his left arm and gripped the pocket knife harder in his right hand. Everytime the edge of the knife was yet to contact his skin, he would let out a muffled cry at the thought of taking his life on his own.

Finally, at his sixth attempt, he had set the knife at the right place, getting all set to do what must be done. He whispered, “See you soon, Mehak,” as his last words and slashed his wrist with the knife.

I had zero guts to read what had happened next, asking myself what more could have happened. Though I heard Ishaan asking what had happened thrice, I didn't have any guts to speak up anymore. Instead, I covered my mouth with my left arm, not letting my sobs escape them.

“Advika, can you hear me or what?” I could sense Ishaan's temper reaching its peak as he asked the question. The tone dropped a little as he asked, “What happened?”

“I…” I paused to take a deep breath through my mouth, and when I did, I continued, “I'll tell you. Please don't panic. I'll tell you when we settle things. Please,” emphasising on the word “Please”, beseeching him to wait a little.

“Fine,” he sighed and focused on his driving while I let out two deep breaths through my mouth and read the last pic, bracing myself with all might.

Fresh blood oozed out of the cut from his vein like the immeasurable pain in his heart. He knew that he was supposed to feel the physical pain, but he knew he didn't. He closed his eyes, unable to see his blood out of his skin, and chose to think about all those moments that defined his life before leaving the world without Mehak.

Before he could think about the moment he knew he was to become a dad, he felt his senses escaping him. And so he fell into the darkness that felt as comforting as his soulmate's embrace.

“Advika?” Ishaan's voice brought me back to the depressing reality. As I looked up at him before remembering to wipe my tears, he urged me to get down the car.

We and the hospital staff carried Ved on the stretcher bed and the staff entered a room with the unconscious Ved.

We sat on the bench outside the room while I pointed his mobile at him. He raised his eyebrows while I pointed my chin at his mobile that was still in my hand. I looked away from him, offering myself the liberty to shed tears freely, waiting for him to join me.

Five minutes later, I heard loud sobs which were not from me. I looked at the other side and saw Ishaan covering his face with his hands and crying aloud, his mobile still showing the last pic Aadya Chatterjee had sent.

I pulled myself closer to Ishaan, put up my hand round his back, and whispered, “It's okay. This too shall pass.”

“But, who would decide when this too would pass?” He retorted in a tone that made him sound so coherent due to him sobbing. “You’re right. I shouldn't have said that to Ved. He was so confused that he had to kill himself. It was all my fault. Had I left him grieve over his wife's death, he would have at least loved. This was my fault.”

“No, Ishaan.” I raised my voice a decibel louder than I was before. “This ain't your fault. It was all Aadya Chatterjee's fault. She was the one who's planning all this stuff. You didn't do anything. Ved chose to kill himself because he was bound by what Aadya Chatterjee was planning. This was nobody but her fault. So, stop blaming yourself.”

I took his mobile and closed the pic, facing the mail Aadya Chatterjee had sent, which had something more that gained my attention.

“Hold on—” I yelled in a bid to gain his attention. Seeing him looking up at me from the corner of my eyes, I added, “She had also sent something else. Forgive me. But… I was, I am, and I will be the cause of your misfortunes until you give up sticking with that curse.”

Reacting to Aadya Chatterjee's mail that I had read, Ishaan pursed his lips, pressed the corners of his eyes, and blinked briefly once, whispering, “That bitch.”

Just then, Ishaan's mobile rang with Fiorella's Caller ID flashing on the screen. I handed over the mobile to Ishaan, who had picked up the call at the speed of light. “Hello? Yes, Fior… What?... Oh, shit! You wait there. I'll be back.”

He disconnected the call and informed me, “Advika. I have to go,” in a speed that could match Kendrick Lamar's rap.

“What happened?” I asked in a speed that matched his, getting the urge he was in.

“My…” Before he could start informing, his tone wobbled as though he was yet to cry again. “I'll explain to you later. Please. Give me some time. Bye!” At the end of his sentence, he broke down into tears as he did after reading the excerpts from Aadya Chatterjee's manuscript.

“Fine. You go. I'll take care here. Bye! Take care.” He left the floor before I could complete bidding him goodbye.

Landing on the bench, I stared at nowhere and went into a state of oblivion until I realised that I was zoned out for around ten minutes. I laid my eyes on the entrance to Ved's ward, where the Italian cops and a couple of doctors were discussing seriously over an A4 paper. Then, their eyes were fixed on me as they pointed at me and continued their discussion.

Around a minute later, the group came towards me. A young cop in his early thirties asked me something in Italian while I informed, “Sorry, but I can't understand Italian.”

Then, the cops looked at themselves until a doctor in her late forties took out her mobile, opened some God-knows-what app (or maybe, website), spoke up something in Italian, and pointed the mobile at me. Accepting it, I read the English translation of the Italian stuff she spoke to the Italian-to-English translator.

“How are you related to the patient?”

I switched the translating language from Italian to English and replied, “I'm his friend,” and returned the mobile to the doctor.

A few seconds later, she spoke and gave me the mobile.

“What about the other guy with you?”

“He's his friend as well,” I replied, my mind unaware of the danger lurking around.

The doctor asked, “Where is that other guy?”

“I don't know. He said he would come back,” I replied.

The doctor asked, “What is your name and that guy's?”

“My name is Advika Bansal. The other guy's name is Ishaan Ahuja.”

Then, upon the young cop's instruction, the doctor informed, “The patient had stated in his suicide note that you two are the reason behind his decision. The police want to investigate you and your friend. Since you claim that your friend has gone away somewhere, the police had to take you for the investigation. Also, it would be really helpful if you tell us where your other friend went.”

My hands trembled out of the perplexity on whether I should be angry at Ved for not understanding us or at Aadya Chatterjee for planning all this cruel stuff for us while my mind urged me to think of a plan to escape from the fictional cops. Ishaan deserved to know this.

“Well… I'm ready to co-operate with the police,” I informed via the translator, my mind simultaneously double-checking the plan I had somewhat managed to construct in a jiffy. Then, as I planned it in my head, I added as though in an urge, “Can I use the restroom before that?”

The doctor looked at the cops, who nodded a yes in response. I whispered, “Thank you,” despite knowing that they couldn't understand my language and rushed to the restroom. Then, taking a deep breath, I opened my sling bag for my mobile, only to realise that I didn't bring them with me.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath and marched back and forth in an urge to make a Plan B, thus burying the plan of playing You Belong With Me and escaping to my universe.

I opened the door slow enough for the outsiders not to hear me and peeked outside. From the tiny space, I managed to see two policemen who were at the other end of the corridor, a few doctors marching here and there, and an exit that could possibly lead to a deserted lane.

Making sure that I wasn't seen by any of them outside the restroom, I walked faster to the exit. Taking a last peek at the hospital to see if anyone was following me, I saw the cops at the corridor alerting others and pointing at me, forcing me to run as fast as I could.

After confusing the cops with five right turns and six left turns alternatively, I looked back to see nobody following me. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looked around to see where I was. It was a lane that led to a main road. My eyes, while scanning for familiar faces and signs, spotted a building quite farther from me which was emitting smoke. Hearing siren sounds from the same direction, my inklings told me to go there though I didn't know anything about this city and, especially, this city. Something in me was so intrigued about that place.

I strolled cautiously, finding directions to reach that place. After taking a left and two right, I reached the house which was the fourth one to my left. The familiarity of that place hit me so hard that I knew where I was almost instantly. I ran to the house and saw the place fully in ashes, leaving nothing behind. The red fire engine was vanishing down the lane as I tapped on the shoulder of the man who was standing in front of the fiery house with his ashen face showing signs of grief.

“Ishaan?” He turned after me calling me and looked at me for a while until he pulled me in his embrace and shedded tears of inconsolable grief.

“I hate my life, Advika. I hate it here. Let's go to your world, please! Please,” he pleaded with his tone and kept wobbling with every second.

***

See you soon, peeps!