Chapter 7: Ashes and Echoes

After landing, Mritika went straight to the cremation ground. Swastik had already arranged everything. Her Mamu lay before her—pale, slightly discolored from the hospital’s freezing cold. She wanted to cry, but the tears refused to come. Grief clamped her chest like a vice, yet she forced herself through the rituals and the agonizing wait to receive his remains.

On the way home, the streets of her childhood neighborhood blurred past. Each corner pressed memories into her chest—mostly sorrowful, though a few made her smile. And then, the house appeared. The same house she had spent seven years trying to escape. It loomed ahead, a silent witness to everything she had endured.

Swastik sat beside her, calm as ever. He had been her anchor through it all—Neel’s disappearance, the long years of loneliness, the grief she had carried like a second skin. She had leaned on him more than she ever admitted.

Inside, the house smelled unchanged. The familiar spices lingered in the air. Quiet corners whispered echoes of hushed conversations with Neel. Her mother’s laughter still seemed to float in the walls. Her father’s favorite sofa stood untouched. It all pressed down on her like a weight. Mritika sank into the cushions, clinging to a fragile steadiness.

Swastik placed a hand gently over hers.

“Mithika… I’m so sorry about your Mamu. I know how much he meant to you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t call you from the hospital earlier. I truly am.”

She didn’t respond immediately. A moment passed, heavy and still. Then, she placed a hand on his shoulder.