Adultery Priya Didi

[shailu4ever]

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Ravi walked down with them, step by step, as the stretchers were carried through the corridor and out into the sunlight. The world looked unchanged, the same trees, the same street, the same city noise in the distance, but everything inside him had shattered.
 
At the entrance, he stopped. The relatives were placing garlands, offering quick prayers before closing the doors of the van. He stood back, hands by his sides, his eyes blurred. It felt like watching a part of his own life being carried away.
 
Someone asked him softly, “Are you family?”
 
He shook his head. “No… friends,” he managed to say, the word catching in his throat. But they are more than a family for him. 
 
Their Relatives planned to take the bodies to their native and perform funeral and all the rituals there. The van started with a low rumble, its sound echoing down the narrow lane. 

Ravi watched as it moved past the gates, the garlanded windscreen disappearing slowly into the afternoon haze. 

He didn’t move until it was gone completely, until there was nothing left but the faint dust rising on the road.
 
The silence that followed was unbearable. The building felt empty, the corridors echoing with ghosts of laughter and half-remembered voices. He turned away, climbing the stairs slowly, every step heavier than the last.
 
When he reached Flat 205, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes shut. The stillness pressed in on him, thick and merciless. He could still hear their laughter in his mind, still see Neetu at the balcony waving, Sirisha calling out “Bhayya!” from the corridor, Vamsi’s cheerful voice echoing after a long workday.
 
Now, there was nothing. Just the echo of what used to be.
 
He walked to the window and looked out at the street below, where the van had vanished moments ago. A single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, until his vision blurred completely. 

The world outside carried on, cars honked, people hurried past, but for Ravi, time had stopped.
 
In that quiet, he whispered their names under his breath, Vamsi, Neetu, Sirisha, as if saying them aloud could somehow bring them back. But the only answer was silence.
 
And in that silence, he realized how fragile everything had been, how quickly joy could turn into loss, how easily life could slip away.
 
He sank into the chair by the window, the late afternoon light falling softly across his face. His eyes were fixed on nothing. 

The ache in his chest deepened with every breath, but he let it stay, because it was all he had left of them.
 

-- oOo --

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