She left me a text message and walked away without a word. I found myself consumed by thoughts of her alone in that hotel room, grappling with her emotions. Did she feel embarrassed for not saying goodbye in person? As I picked up the shirt that lay crumpled on the bed and slipped it on, a wave of frustration washed over me. I stepped out of that confining hotel room, my heart heavy, and made my way back to my apartment, haunted by the unanswered questions swirling in my mind.
Weeks stretched on without a word from her, and I hadn't mustered the courage to reach out. I found myself spending days on the sofa, nursing a beer and going through the motions of my workouts, yet my mind was consumed by a singular question: "Where is she? How is she?" The weight of uncertainty began to feel unbearable, and with each passing day, it became clear that I couldn't continue living in this city. I made the bold decision to leave it all behind and start anew in a place where I could reclaim my life and my peace of mind.
I had made all the necessary arrangements and began packing my belongings. On the day I was set to leave, as I was pulling my suitcase out of my apartment, I heard a voice call out from behind, "Harsh!" I turned around to find Saru's mother standing there, and I felt a rush of frustration at her unexpected appearance. I invited her in, and she immediately asked, "Are you leaving? How is Saru? Where is she?"
I was taken aback to discover that she hadn't been in contact with Saru for weeks. Concern washed over me as I replied, "Aunty, I haven't heard from her in weeks either." Panic flickered across her face as she said, "Oh! This is Jessie's wedding card. If you learn anything about Saru's whereabouts, please make sure she gets this." I nodded and said, "Of course, Aunty. Congratulations."
This was a moment of celebration for Saru and her family, with her sister's wedding approaching. I knew that if Saru were present, she would undoubtedly be the life of the party, radiating joy and excitement.
I paused my departure from the city to visit Abhimanyu's office. Approaching the reception desk, I handed the receptionist the wedding card and said, "Could you please deliver this to Mr. Abhimanyu?" She nodded and replied, "Of course."
As I stepped out of the building, I heard someone call out, "Harsh, wait!" It was Abhimanyu. He looked at me with concern and said, "I can't accept this." Taken aback, I asked, "What do you mean? Isn't Saru with you?" He replied, "No, she's not here with me."