Ashriti's POV
Days passed.
Or maybe weeks.
I don't remember clearly.
Time had stopped meaning anything.
Every second of every day, I replayed him.
His laugh. His voice. His promises. His last "call me."
What went wrong?
What pushed him so far?
Was it me?
Did I fight too much?
Did I not give enough?
Was it Tina?
Was it someone else?
Was it that night?
Questions kept circling like vultures.
Then—
My phone rang.
I froze.
His number.
My heart stopped.
For one impossible second, I thought—
Maybe this is all a nightmare.
Maybe he's alive.
Maybe he's calling to say it was a misunderstanding.
My hands were shaking when I picked up.
"Hello?" I whispered.
Not his voice.
His mother's.
"How are you, beta?" she asked softly.
That question broke something inside me.
"I'm fine," I said.
I wasn't.
But what do you say to a mother who lost her son?
How are you?
The words felt cruel.
There was silence on the other side.
Then she said something I didn't expect.
"You deserve to know the reason."
My heart started pounding.
"He died because of his own fault," she said quietly.
"No one else should be blamed."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"He was in huge debt."
Debt.
The word echoed.
"He thought he could manage it."
"He thought he could recover it."
"But he couldn't."
My breathing became shallow.
"He was gambling," she continued.
"He kept losing."
"And he kept trying to win it back."
Gambling.
So it was true.
All those late replies. All those urgent requests. All those "temporary problems."
It was money.
Always money.
"He didn't want anyone to know how bad it had become," she said.
"He was ashamed."
Ashamed.
I remembered every time he snapped when I questioned him.
Every time he said "You don't need to understand."
Every time he chose urgency over me.
My mind went blank.
So at last—
It was money.
It was greed.
It was ego.
It wasn't love.
It wasn't heartbreak.
It wasn't me.
It was money.
I had told him.
I had warned him.
I had asked him not to gamble.
Not to chase shortcuts.
But he still chose it.
He chose risk over stability.
He chose greed over peace.
He chose money—
Over love.
Over me.
When the call ended, I sat there quietly.
No tears.
No screaming.
Just clarity.
All this time, I thought I was fighting for love.
But I was competing with money.
And money won.