Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains and landed warm on my face. I blinked slowly, trying to remember where I was, then it came back to me—our new house. My eyes travelled down to find Vaishank's head resting on my chest, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as he slept. A smile curved on my lips. My fingers drifted into his messy hair, ruffling it softly. Even with the exhaustion of the night still heavy in my body, the sight of his shirtless chest made a dangerous thought flicker in my mind about another round. I let out a quiet chuckle just as my phone rang, shattering the stillness.
The sound woke him. Vaishank pushed himself up, rubbing his face with his palm while I grabbed my phone.
"Hello, Ma?" I answered, still smiling faintly.
A trembling, cracked voice bled through the speaker. "Amrita… da-dad is no more."
Everything inside me froze. The smile vanished. My chest clenched so hard it hurt to breathe. My lips parted but no sound came. Tears welled, blurring my vision.
"What happened?" Vaishank's brows knitted, but I couldn't answer him. My ears were ringing, my heart hammering. He gently took the phone from my hand and spoke to my mother himself. Three drops fell from my eyes onto my hand. It felt like the world had tilted; colours faded, sounds became distant.
"Amrita…" Vaishank's voice broke through the fog as he touched my shoulder. I looked at him, and in the next second he pulled me into his arms. I broke apart against his chest, sobbing until I couldn't breathe.
---
Later, we reached my family home. I was dressed in a plain white outfit, my limbs heavy, my mind blank. My mother ran to me and collapsed into my arms, crying out loud. I held her and cried too, our grief spilling into each other. She dragged me inside. My father lay there in the coffin—lifeless, breathless. My knees trembled as I fell to the floor beside him, clutching his cold hand.
"Pa…" My voice was barely a whisper. "Please look at me, Pa." My lips trembled as tears streamed down. His smile, his walk, his voice, his scent—they wrapped around me like a memory I couldn't touch. Vaishank sat beside me and gripped my shoulders to steady me, his silent presence the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely.
The day passed in a blur—no smiles, no words, no appetite. I didn't notice which relatives had come; I couldn't take my eyes off my father's unmoving body. My head rested on the coffin, my fingers still laced with his.
"Amrita," Vaishank's voice was gentle, coaxing. "From morning you haven't eaten anything. At least eat this samosa." He crouched down, his hand firm on my shoulder. His jaw was tight, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Please… for my sake?"
My eyes burned but no tears came; my body felt dry and hollow. "Please," he whispered again. He broke off a piece of samosa and held it to my lips. I forgot how to speak, how to react.
"Yes, Amrita, you have to eat," Sudesh said, patting my head. "Tomorrow we have things to do." Vaishank's eyes pleaded with mine. The food touched my lips and, almost automatically, I opened my mouth. A tiny smile flickered over Vaishank's face.
"Your mom hasn't eaten either. She won't listen to any of us," he murmured. I turned to see my mother sitting in the corner like a broken doll. A tremor ran through me as I realised she had lost not just a husband but her whole world.
I took the samosa from Vaishank and went to her, sitting by her side, leaning against her shoulder. "A life without Dad won't be easy," I whispered. "But if you don't eat, he'll get mad at me for leaving you alone here." I held a piece of samosa to her lips. She turned away at first. "Please aunty, he'll be sad if he sees you like this," Sudesh added softly from behind me. At last she took a bite, tears still streaming down her face.
---
The next day came too quickly—the day I had to let go forever. Anxiety built inside me as Vaishank performed the rituals as a son. Then they covered my father's face. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to tear the cloth away and beg him to wake up. My knees gave way as Vaishank took the torch to light the pyre.
"Papa, please don't leave me," my heart screamed. Tears streamed down my face. I still hoped he'd rise, smile and say, "I'm fine, beta."
But the flames rose. I knelt on the ground, feeling like I'd lost everything. Anita and Nikhil gripped my shoulders. Sudesh was comforting my mother, his own tears falling unchecked. Anil uncle and Sona aunty stood apart, both weeping quietly.
"I won't tell you to stop crying," Vaishank murmured. He rubbed my back, hugging me tight, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.