The Night after Ahmedabad

The 2 A.M. Knock

The doorbell wouldn’t stop ringing.

I was half-asleep, my head pounding, when I checked the clock — 2:07 a.m.

Who the hell rings the bell at this hour?

Still dizzy, I dragged myself down the stairs and opened the door.

And there he was.

Akash.

“Arre Akash… you?” I said, surprised.

He looked shaken. His hands were trembling, his face pale, eyes red as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Without saying a word, he pushed past me, muttering, “Let me in, bro… please.”

He dropped himself onto the sofa. No expression on his face, just exhaustion — deep, frightening exhaustion.

I sat opposite him, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“What happened, yaar?” I asked.

He looked at me for a moment and whispered one word —

“Rohini.”

I sighed. “Again? Akash, it’s been years, man. Forget her. I told you last time too — move on.”

He looked down, voice shaking.

“Rohini’s gone.”

I frowned. “What do you mean gone?”

He raised his eyes slowly. “She’s dead.”

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.

For a few seconds, I couldn’t even breathe.

Before I could say anything, he added —

“And the police think… I killed her.”

My mind went blank.

Was I sitting next to a murderer?

Or my best friend who just lost the love of his life?

Thousands of thoughts rushed through my head, but all I could do was hold his cold, trembling hand and say,

“Tell me everything.”

The rain outside got heavier. The house was silent except for the ticking clock.

And then he began — his voice breaking, his eyes fixed somewhere far away.

⸻

The Flashback — Ahmedabad

“That night when I landed in Ahmedabad,” he said,

“I don’t know why, but I kept praying I’d see her — just once.

Maybe I just wanted to say sorry.”

The city felt strangely familiar.

Every street, every café, every lane carried some memory of her.

The next day, after finishing my office work, I was walking through the same old streets we once walked together…

And suddenly, my phone buzzed.

A message.

From Rohini.

“Akash, you’re in Ahmedabad?”

I froze.

For a few seconds, I thought it was a prank.

Was someone messing with me?

Or… was it really her?

Before I could reply, the message disappeared — deleted.

Maybe she sent it by mistake, I thought. Maybe it was meant for some other Akash.

But the thought wouldn’t leave my mind.

After hours of overthinking, I texted her back —

“Did you mean to message me?”

Three blinking dots appeared on the screen.

Typing… deleting… typing again.

My heartbeat went wild.

And then came her reply.

“Yes.”

Just yes.

Nothing else.

I stared at the screen.

Hundreds of questions filled my mind.

I finally asked —

“Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she sent her number.

“Call me.”

My hands shook as I dialed.

Was this real? After ten years?

Or was I dreaming?

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And then —

“Hello…”

That voice.

Same softness, same calmness — maybe a bit more tired now.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

It was her.

She asked, “Who’s this?”

I finally whispered, “It’s… Akash.”

A small pause.

Then, gently — “Oh. Akash.”

I didn’t know what to say. My throat felt dry.

“Why did you text me, Rohini? After all these years?”

She laughed softly. “What, can’t I text without a reason?”

Her tone was light, friendly — too normal.

I wasn’t sure if it was real or if she was pretending.

I said, “You can, but… after everything that happened, it feels impossible.”

She went silent for a second. Then said,

“We were kids, Akash. Stupid things happen. Let it go. I saw you in the city this morning, that’s why I messaged.”

⸻

Old Wounds, New Words

I couldn’t believe it. After everything — she was forgiving me that easily?

How? Why?

Before I could ask, she said,

“Can we be friends again?”

I took a deep breath.

“Yeah… yeah, we can.”

Then I asked the question I’d been holding back for years —

“Did you ever get married?”

She laughed. “No. You?”

I smiled sadly. “No. My only real relationship was with you. After that… I just couldn’t.”

There was a pause. Her silence said more than her words.

I asked softly, “Why didn’t you?”

“Breakup?”

She said, “No. We’re still together.

I want to get married, but… life doesn’t always go the way we plan.”

Her tone was calm — too calm.

Like someone pretending everything’s fine.

I asked again, “Are you happy?”

She said quickly, “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

But something in her voice told me otherwise.

And then she said it.

“Let’s meet tomorrow.”

My heart skipped.

“Where?”

“Same place,” she said. “10 a.m.”

⸻

Next Morning — Sabarmati

I reached early.

The weather was perfect — light drizzle, cool breeze, that smell of wet earth.

Sabarmati looked almost poetic that morning.

I sat at Café 24, our old spot.

Ordered coffee. Waited.

Every passing car made my heart jump.

And then, one finally stopped — a silver Mercedes.

She stepped out.

Rohini.

Same grace. Same smile. Same magic.

It was as if time hadn’t touched her. She hasn’t  aged a day.

For a moment, I forgot everything — the years, the pain, the guilt.

All I could do was watch her walk toward me, her white dupatta fluttering in the breeze.

And as she smiled and said, “Hi, Akash,”

Hi… long time,” I smiled.

“Thanks,” I added.

“For what?” she asked, amused.

“For looking so gorgeous. And… for meeting me today.”

She blushed, that same shy smile from the past. “I should be the one thanking you. I called you here, remember?”

We talked about random things — work, family, nothing that really mattered, yet everything did. It was strange how normal it felt, as if there had never been a fight, never a distance. After our snacks, we went to wash our hands. She walked ahead, I followed. Suddenly, she turned — and kissed me.

Right there, in public.

For a moment, I froze. Rohini? The shy girl I knew?

But she smiled, held my hand and said, “You’re still cute.”

The next thing I knew, we were in my hotel room.

As soon as I closed the door, she pulled me close, kissed me again — and in moments, we were on the bed, lost in each other. .For the next two days, we couldn’t stay apart. We met, we ate, we made love. Again and again.

Those two days felt like a lifetime.

When I finally came back, it was as if she’d never left my life. We chatted every day. She even said “I love you.” This time it felt real. It all happened so fast that I didn’t even stop to think how. It was a miracle — too good to be true.

But I didn’t care. I was in love.

Yes, one thing had changed though — sometimes she told me not to call or message because her boyfriend was around. It hurt, but I was okay with it. As long as she was still mine in some way, I could live with that.

Sometimes I imagined what might be happening when he visited her — the anger, the jealousy, all mixed together. But love makes you blind. And I was totally blind.

I once asked her, “Rohini, you’re almost 38 now. Why aren’t you getting married?”

She never gave a straight answer.

I didn’t push. I was happy just having her — even if in installments.

We started visiting each other often. My place, her place — romantic days, naughty nights. Everything was perfect. Until last month.

It was her birthday. I decided to surprise her. Her parents were both working, so she’d be home alone. I reached her place quietly. Just as I was about to knock, I heard her voice — she was arguing with someone. I couldn’t hear the other person, just her angry tone.

I froze.

Who was she talking to?

No one was supposed to be there. I panicked and left, went back to my hotel, and called her. Her voice was calm, sleepy. I told her I came to surprise her but someone was there at her place.

“There was no one,” she said. “I was sleeping.”

But I was standing right outside her door. I heard her voice.

She laughed it off, said maybe the TV was on. I pretended to believe her, but deep down, I knew something was wrong.

Still, that evening I went back. She cut the cake, we drank some wine, danced, laughed — everything felt fine again. At 4 p.m she told me to leave, said her father would be home soon. I left. But I couldn’t sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard her arguing again. Same anger. Same tone.

And then all the strange things started replaying in my head — how she hadn’t contacted me for years and suddenly, out of nowhere, we were together again like nothing ever happened.

Strange, right? Nothing was making sense.

Sometime around 4 a.m., my phone rang. It was Rohini.

“I’m outside your door,” she said. “Open up.”

Rohini? At this hour?

I rushed to the door. The cold night air hit my face. She stood there, drenched in rain, trembling. She hugged me tight, crying uncontrollably. I could smell rain and fog in her hair. Her body was cold — ice cold. Her eyes were red, lips pale white.

“Rohini, what happened?” I tried asking, but she was too shaken to speak.

I gave her a towel. She sat on the bed, still crying. I went out to get some warm water. But when I returned — she was gone.

Not in the room.

Not in the bathroom.

Nowhere.

She had vanished.

I searched the lobby, the corridor, every floor — nothing. She had disappeared into thin air. Her phone was switched off too.

Before I knew it, the night faded into daylight. Around 11 a.m., I came back to the hotel, exhausted. The lobby was crowded — police, people whispering. My heart stopped.

At the reception, a man pointed towards me. A police officer walked up and said, “Are you Akash?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Rohini Acharya.”

“What?” My world went blank. “Murder? Me? You’re crazy! She was here last night!”

I tried to run, but five officers held me down. I screamed, “Let me see her once! Please!”

They showed me call logs — the last call was mine. Most of her recent calls were mine too.

They showed the hotel’s CCTV — Rohini standing outside my room.

“Tell us where the body is,” one of them shouted, slamming the table.

“Body? I don’t know! She vanished!”

The cop yelled, “You think we’re fools? People don’t just vanish!”

I broke down. “Believe me! I didn’t kill her!”

But no one did. Her body — and her phone — both were missing.

Rahul stared at Akash in disbelief.

“Wait… if they arrested you, then how the hell are you here now?”

Before Akash could answer, a faint siren echoed outside.

He froze. “Shit. They found me.”

He stood up, panicked. “I have to go. The back door—where is it?”

I pointed behind him. He rushed toward it, tripping slightly. Something fell from his pocket.

A phone.

I picked it up.

Not his phone.

Is it rohini’s ?

My stomach dropped. Police had said her body and phone were missing.

Then how the hell was her phone with Akash?

Before I could think, a blinding pain shot through my back.

A gunshot.

I fell. Blood pooled around me.

My vision blurred. In that fading darkness, I saw a silhouette —

A woman’s shape.

And then —

everything went dark.