My head was pounding with pain.
God knows how long I had been crying while hiding from Varsha—"What will happen now? Where will I go? Why me? What wrong have I done to anyone?"
A strange mix of frustration, anger, sadness, and helplessness was weighing down on me. It felt like an emotional overdose was crashing my entire system.
Suddenly, the loud knock on the door startled me—"Didi, how long are you going to stay inside? What happened?"
I came out, drying my hair with a towel and trying to hide my face from Varsha—"Nothing, have I taken too long?"
Varsha: "Not much—just fifteen minutes left for three hours to be complete."
Varsha: "What's wrong, say something."
Me: "Nothing, just tired. I feel like sleeping."
And I silently lay down on the bed. Varsha lay down beside me. I don't even remember when I fell asleep.
I was walking through dark fields and alleys and narrow streets, searching for something unknown.
After crossing a desolate, empty field, I exited through a small gate next to a wall, only to find another open ground—but this one was different.
A dense white fog surrounded everything. Giant banyan trees stood tall, and from them hung flickering oil lamps lighting the way in the pitch dark.
I had just taken a few steps ahead when something hit my feet. I looked down—a woman sat there in a white sari, her head bowed.
I reached out my hand to help. She silently stared at it for a moment, then held it and lifted her face.
As soon as I saw her face, a chill ran down my spine—"That's me."
I tried to pull my hand away, but her grip was strong. I struggled like a bird in cage to break free.
Suddenly, someone called my name—"Avni"—and with the rush of wind, my eyes snapped open.
Another strange dream. My head was splitting. I got up and got ready.
I had made up my mind—today I would submit my resignation. Before they fired me, I would walk out myself.
When I reached the office, I saw a crowd in Sanket Sir's office.
Shikha and Rajat were sitting right in front of him, and a few others were standing and checking files.
I quietly went and sat at my desk. Pratibha had also arrived. As soon as she came in, she signaled with her eyes—"What's going on?"
I shrugged—"I don't know."
There was no sign of Rajeev.
My mind was packing bundles of curses for him. After causing such a huge mess, he didn't even show up today, coward.
Pratibha whispered, "I told my brother-in-law what happened yesterday. He said we can quit the job—he'll use his contacts to help us get another one. I'm resigning today itself. Since yesterday, Shikha and her group have been staring us down."
I panicked—"How can we suddenly resign like this? We'll have to serve a one-month notice period."
Pratibha, in disbelief—"You really think these people will let us serve a notice period? They'll make our life hell for a month. I say we resign on the spot. If we lose one month's salary, so be it. Where the hell is Rajeev?"
Me: "I don't know where he is. But I'll serve my notice period. I haven't done anything wrong. He threw the punch, not me."
Pratibha: "Did he tell you the "name" ?
Hearing that brought his words back to my mind.
I shook my head because I still didn't know anything for sure—and the one who could explain it all was missing.
The crowd in Sanket Sir's office didn't disperse for a long time.
Around six or seven in the evening, people started coming out with piles of files in hand.
Suddenly, my desk phone rang…
It was Sanket Sir—"Avni, come to my cabin."
Pratibha looked at me—"He called you." She clenched her fist as a sign to stay strong, and I gave her a thumbs-up in return.
As soon as I entered the cabin, Sanket Sir gestured for me to sit. I quietly sat down. He signaled Shikha to leave, and she got up and walked out.
Now it was just me, Sanket Sir, and Rajat in the cabin.
Sanket Sir: "Avni, the fifty bookings you refunded—on which card did you process the refunds?"
I had a feeling something like this would happen, but I didn't expect it to come this fast.
In a low voice: "Sir, on the card originally used during the booking."
Sanket Sir: "Are you sure about that?"
Me: "Yes, sir."
Sanket: "The customer has complained again—they got an email confirming the refund, but it hasn't appeared in their account.
We've been checking each booking since morning, and it's clear now—the refunds went to a different account, not the customer's.
Can I ask where that refunded money actually went?"
Me: "Sir, can I take a look at those bookings?"
Rajat placed his laptop in front of me.
I checked the bookings. Our system has a way to track who did what and when in each booking—it's called the booking history.
I checked it and found that the card number had been changed before I worked on those bookings.
That's why the refunds I processed didn't go to the original card—they went to the new card number that had already been saved earlier.
I turned the laptop toward Sanket Sir and said—"Sir, these card numbers were changed even before I worked on them and the person changed the card is no longer working with us."
Sanket Sir: "Whose responsibility was it to check? Shouldn't you have verified the card number before processing refunds?"
I was stunned—couldn't find words—"Yes, I should have checked."
Sanket Sir: "Then whose fault is it?"
Me: "It's also the fault of the person who changed the card. Why would anyone change card details for fifty bookings?"
Rajat, snapping with irritation—"Madam, we're talking about you here. Who processed the refunds?"