Chapter 16 — Results in the Dark
823 Words
The second night of waiting did something cruel to them.
It sharpened everything.
Sounds were louder. Thoughts were darker. The air between them felt charged—like a wire stretched too tight, ready to snap.
Meera couldn’t stay inside the house anymore. The walls had started to feel like witnesses.
“I need to get out,” she said.
Aarav didn’t ask where. He picked up the keys.
They drove without destination until the city thinned into an empty stretch of highway. No traffic. No people. Just night and headlights cutting through it.
He pulled over near an old overlook where the city lights blinked far below like distant stars.
For a while, they just sat there.
Breathing.
Existing.
“Do you remember the first time you brought me here?” Meera asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“You said this is where you come when your mind is louder than your heart.”
He glanced at her. “And you said my mind needed discipline.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
It faded quickly.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she whispered. “I’m scared of you. And scared of losing you. At the same time.”
That honesty broke something open.
Aarav turned toward her fully.
“I’m scared to touch you,” he admitted.
Her eyes flickered.
“Why?”
“Because if the report says what we fear… every memory of us will feel wrong.”
Silence.
Then she asked softly, “And if it says we’re not related?”
His voice dropped. “Then I’ll spend my life proving that nothing about us was wrong.”
The night thickened around them.
Meera’s breath grew uneven.
“Come here,” she said.
He hesitated.
She didn’t.
She slid closer and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest like she needed to confirm he was real, solid, human—not a question mark.
Aarav’s hands hovered for a second before settling at her back.
Careful. Protective. Desperate.
They stayed like that for a long time.
No urgency.
No heat.
Just the kind of intimacy that comes from fear of loss.
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
“What if tomorrow changes how we hold each other?” she whispered.
“Then tonight,” he said, voice rough, “we hold each other without thinking about tomorrow.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him.
There was no lust in his eyes.
Only hunger for reassurance.
For presence.
For now.
She touched his face slowly, memorizing the lines like she might have to forget them later.
He kissed her forehead first.
Then her temple.
Then her cheek.
Soft. Hesitant. Almost reverent.
She closed her eyes.
Because this didn’t feel like desire.
It felt like goodbye rehearsing itself.
And that made it unbearable.
Her lips found his—not urgently, but with trembling certainty. Like she needed to remember what safety tasted like.
The kiss deepened, but never crossed into recklessness. It stayed tender. Fragile. A promise neither of them knew if they could keep.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together.
Aarav’s phone vibrated.
Both of them froze.
They stared at the screen.
Unknown number.
At 1:12 AM.
Aarav frowned and answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a voice.
Male. Calm. Unfamiliar.
“Mr. Malhotra?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me. But I think you should know something before you collect that DNA report tomorrow.”
Meera’s eyes widened.
Aarav’s grip tightened on the phone.
“Who is this?”
“I was your father’s assistant,” the man said. “Years ago.”
Aarav’s blood went cold.
“I found something after he died. Something he kept hidden.”
“Why call now?” Aarav demanded.
“Because I recognized the woman in the news recently. Your wife.”
Meera’s breath stopped.
“What are you talking about?” Aarav said.
“There is a second letter. Not the suicide note. Another one. Addressed to her.”
Aarav’s heart began pounding.
“To Meera?”
“Yes.”
Meera grabbed his arm.
“What does it say?” Aarav asked.
“I never opened it. But I kept it. I didn’t know who she was back then. Now I do.”
A pause.
“I think you should read it before you read that report.”
The call ended.
No name.
No explanation.
Just a location texted seconds later.
An old address.
Across the city.
Meera stared at Aarav.
“Your father wrote me a letter?”
Aarav swallowed.
“He shouldn’t even have known you existed.”
They looked at each other.
The DNA test suddenly wasn’t the only truth waiting for them.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Meera felt something colder than fear.
Anticipation.
Because whatever was inside that letter…
Had survived decades.
Waiting.
For this exact night.
- Writer
