18-03-2026, 10:30 PM
Chapter 19: The Vanishing Husband
Jeeva stood frozen on the rooftop stairs, phone still pressed to his ear, Madhavan’s words echoing like a death sentence.
“The monkey didn’t pass the 100-day cycle. I just want to make sure I can reverse you… before it’s too late.”
The rooftop wind whipped cold against his skin, but he barely felt it. The world darkened around him — edges blurring, sounds muffling — as if the building itself was closing in. Suriya’s cigarette glowed faintly in the distance, Anandhi’s bra swaying on the line like a mocking flag, but none of it registered.
He was dying. Again.
May be in months?
His legs felt leaden, his chest hollow. He stumbled back down to the corridor, pushed into the flat, shut the door behind him.
The house was still empty.
He forgot — for a long, numb hour — that she was missing.
He sat on the sofa, staring at the blank wall, the kids’ drawings pinned crookedly, Riya’s crayon stick-figure family still smiling. His vision blurred — not from tears, not yet — just from the sheer weight of it all.
He had come back to revenge her, but when he learns truth he wanted to save them.
To protect them.
To love her again.
And now he had less than 80 days — maybe — before his body betrayed him a second time.
He stood. Walked to the kids’ room.
Riya’s doll lay on the pillow. Rohan’s toy car sat on the windowsill.
He sank to his knees beside the bed.
The tears came then — silent at first, then ragged, choking sobs. He pressed his face into Riya’s blanket, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo and innocence.
“I shouldn’t have accepted this,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let the machine touch me. I should have died on that road. At least then… you’d have a father who didn’t abandon you twice.”
He cried until his throat burned, until the sobs turned to quiet, shuddering breaths.
30 mins later
Footsteps in the corridor.
He wiped his face quickly, stood, straightened his shirt.
Anandhi opened the door — carrying a small cloth bag, face tired but calm.
Jeeva’s voice came out hoarse. “Where did you go?”
Anandhi set the bag down, met his eyes.
“I went to the security officer station. To make a formal complaint.”
Jeeva’s stomach dropped. “What?”
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “It’s strange and unusual. Rahul is missing for almost three weeks. I thought I couldn’t delay it anymore. So I filed a missing person report.”
Jeeva stared at her — numb, stunned.
She continued, voice steady but soft.
“The old lady’s daughter — the cop — she asked me to hand over a letter to her today. She’s going to Chennai. So I went early to the station, gave her the letter, filed the report, and came back.”
Jeeva felt the ground tilt.
She was worried about him.
She had gone to the security officer — not somwhere to have a secret affair.
she still cared enough to search for the husband who had vanished.
He was not sure what to tell her.
He decided — in that moment — to let Rahul remain the missing person forever. Instead of telling truth and spoil her happiness.
But he also needed to make sure he was fine — or as fine as a dying man could be.
He cleared his throat. “I’m leaving for a friend’s place. I’ll be back in two days.”
Anandhi frowned. “Without breakfast?”
“I’ll eat on the way.”
He grabbed his phone, wallet, the extra key she had given him — and left.
No hug. No explanation.
He caught the next flight to Mumbai.
Madhavan was waiting at a discreet airstrip outside the city — black Mercedes idling, lab coat swapped for a plain jacket.
Jeeva stepped out of the cab — face pale, eyes hollow.
Madhavan took one look at him and sighed.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to run tests. Now.”
Jeeva followed him into the car.
The door shut.
The engine purred to life.
Jeeva stood frozen on the rooftop stairs, phone still pressed to his ear, Madhavan’s words echoing like a death sentence.
“The monkey didn’t pass the 100-day cycle. I just want to make sure I can reverse you… before it’s too late.”
The rooftop wind whipped cold against his skin, but he barely felt it. The world darkened around him — edges blurring, sounds muffling — as if the building itself was closing in. Suriya’s cigarette glowed faintly in the distance, Anandhi’s bra swaying on the line like a mocking flag, but none of it registered.
He was dying. Again.
May be in months?
His legs felt leaden, his chest hollow. He stumbled back down to the corridor, pushed into the flat, shut the door behind him.
The house was still empty.
He forgot — for a long, numb hour — that she was missing.
He sat on the sofa, staring at the blank wall, the kids’ drawings pinned crookedly, Riya’s crayon stick-figure family still smiling. His vision blurred — not from tears, not yet — just from the sheer weight of it all.
He had come back to revenge her, but when he learns truth he wanted to save them.
To protect them.
To love her again.
And now he had less than 80 days — maybe — before his body betrayed him a second time.
He stood. Walked to the kids’ room.
Riya’s doll lay on the pillow. Rohan’s toy car sat on the windowsill.
He sank to his knees beside the bed.
The tears came then — silent at first, then ragged, choking sobs. He pressed his face into Riya’s blanket, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo and innocence.
“I shouldn’t have accepted this,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let the machine touch me. I should have died on that road. At least then… you’d have a father who didn’t abandon you twice.”
He cried until his throat burned, until the sobs turned to quiet, shuddering breaths.
30 mins later
Footsteps in the corridor.
He wiped his face quickly, stood, straightened his shirt.
Anandhi opened the door — carrying a small cloth bag, face tired but calm.
Jeeva’s voice came out hoarse. “Where did you go?”
Anandhi set the bag down, met his eyes.
“I went to the security officer station. To make a formal complaint.”
Jeeva’s stomach dropped. “What?”
She sighed, rubbing her temple. “It’s strange and unusual. Rahul is missing for almost three weeks. I thought I couldn’t delay it anymore. So I filed a missing person report.”
Jeeva stared at her — numb, stunned.
She continued, voice steady but soft.
“The old lady’s daughter — the cop — she asked me to hand over a letter to her today. She’s going to Chennai. So I went early to the station, gave her the letter, filed the report, and came back.”
Jeeva felt the ground tilt.
She was worried about him.
She had gone to the security officer — not somwhere to have a secret affair.
she still cared enough to search for the husband who had vanished.
He was not sure what to tell her.
He decided — in that moment — to let Rahul remain the missing person forever. Instead of telling truth and spoil her happiness.
But he also needed to make sure he was fine — or as fine as a dying man could be.
He cleared his throat. “I’m leaving for a friend’s place. I’ll be back in two days.”
Anandhi frowned. “Without breakfast?”
“I’ll eat on the way.”
He grabbed his phone, wallet, the extra key she had given him — and left.
No hug. No explanation.
He caught the next flight to Mumbai.
Madhavan was waiting at a discreet airstrip outside the city — black Mercedes idling, lab coat swapped for a plain jacket.
Jeeva stepped out of the cab — face pale, eyes hollow.
Madhavan took one look at him and sighed.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to run tests. Now.”
Jeeva followed him into the car.
The door shut.
The engine purred to life.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)