the red moon's love

episode:“The Fall”

It was almost 11:30 at night.

Titir and her younger sister Seema were sitting together in their room—the balcony door open toward the fields, letting in the cool night breeze. Titir leaned against a pillow, exhaustion in her eyes. Seema kept glancing at the clock again and again.

Seema said,

— “Ma said Rudra-da would arrive tonight. Why hasn’t he come yet?”

Titir turned her face and replied,

— “Such a drama king. It’s in his nature to do as he pleases. Maybe he’s checked into a hotel by now!”

Seema whispered,

— “Didi, what if Rudra-da has completely changed, and doesn’t even recognize us anymore?”

With her eyes closed, Titir said,

— “That would be perfect. He won’t recognize us, but he’ll still end up being everyone’s favorite.”

The light was soft, the air filled with the faint fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine. Outside, dogs barked and the occasional truck rumbled past. Both sisters were tired. Waiting and waiting, they didn’t even realize when their eyes closed…

Seema rested her head on Titir’s shoulder and fell asleep. Titir, too, quietly shut her eyes.

In the room, only the ticking of the clock and the silence of night remained.

And just then… a black car stopped at the house gate.

---

Around 8 in the morning.

Titir slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room through the window. The curtains swayed with the cool morning breeze. Sleep still heavy in her eyes, she glanced up at the ceiling, then turned to her side—and jolted.

Seema wasn’t in bed.

Frowning, Titir muttered,

— “Where has that girl gone so early in the morning?”

She sat up, her hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep. Yawning, she walked to the window. Outside, birds chirped in the courtyard, while from the kitchen drifted the aroma of frying spices.

Titir whispered,

— “Looks like everyone woke up early… except me.”

Then it struck her—

“Rudra!”

Muttering, she said,

— “I wonder if he actually came last night… maybe Seema already went to see him!”

Hurriedly combing her hair and splashing water on her face, she told herself,

— “Today I won’t look weak in front of anyone. Losing sleep over someone like him would be my own insult.”

She opened the door and stepped out of her room. Now the real morning was about to begin—where past, grievances, and new stories would stand face-to-face.

Titir slowly descended the stairs. She had tied her hair in a rush; faint traces of anger and fatigue lingered on her face. Her footsteps light, she entered the hall.

But the hall was completely empty.

The big windows stood bare, curtains pulled aside, sunlight pouring in. The sofa cushions were neatly arranged, a newspaper lay on the table. Not a sound anywhere.

Titir paused, glanced around, then smiled faintly.

— “Well! Nobody’s here. Which means Rudra never came. That’s good.”

She sat down on the sofa, running a hand through her hair.

— “If the whole day passes like this, I can finally have some peace.”

Just then Tina came out of the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. Seeing Titir, she smiled.

Tina said,

— “Finally, I see someone!”

Titir turned her eyes away.

— “What do you mean?”

Tina shrugged,

— “When I woke up, your brother wasn’t in his room. Then I came to the hall, no one was here either. Checked the kitchen—empty too. It’s like the whole house suddenly vanished!”

Titir smirked,

— “Really? So you thought I’d come out like a ghost?”

Tina laughed,

— “If ghosts looked like you in the morning, I’d happily drink tea without milk every day!”

Titir glared,

— “Why did you wake up so early, anyway?”

Then, almost growling, she added,

— “But where did everyone go? The whole house feels haunted!”

She slowly walked toward her parents’ room. The door was half-closed, but no sound came from inside. She knocked and called out,

— “Ma? Baba?”

No response.

Suddenly, a faint sound drifted from the room next door.

A metallic noise, mixed with low voices speaking.

Titir perked her ears. The sound came again. She moved closer, heart pounding.

Then she froze.

Whispering, she said,

— “That’s… Rudra’s room!”

Memories flooded back—how her mother always kept that room spotless, curtains freshly washed, the bed neatly made, not a speck of dust allowed. Her mother would say, ‘If Rudra ever returns, the room must be ready.’

Titir stepped closer, pressing her ear to the door.

From inside came laughter—a deep, familiar male voice.

Her eyes narrowed.

— “He… really came?” she whispered to herself.

She was still straining to listen when suddenly the door flung open with a bang!

Titir lost her balance and crashed to the floor.

— “Aaahhh!”

She cried out in pain.

Titir lay sprawled on the floor, her face twisted in pain. Rudra extended a hand toward her, but before she could react, laughter erupted from inside the room.

The loudest laugh came from Seema—Titir’s younger sister.

— “Didi, you fell down? Hahaha… just like a movie scene!”

Titir’s face flushed crimson, torn between anger and humiliation. Her eyes stung with tears of rage. Without glancing at Rudra, she scrambled to her feet and rushed out of the room, saying nothing.

As the echo of her footsteps faded, Seema’s laughter slowly died. A silence hung in the air. After a moment, she whispered,

— “Did I… go too far?”

Rudra turned his eyes toward her, his voice calm but laced with unspoken rebuke.

— “Learn when and where laughter belongs, Seema.”

Her smile vanished instantly. In a low breath, she murmured,

— “I’ll explain it to Didi…”

---

Titir stormed out of Rudra’s room, her face tight, the corners of her eyes glistening.

As she passed the kitchen, Tina caught sight of her.

— “Titir! Why are you running like this? What happened?”

But Titir brushed past without a word, her footsteps pounding through the corridor.

Tina stood frozen for a moment, startled. Then whispered to herself,

— “Running like that… something must’ve happened!”

She hesitated. Should I go after her? Or wait and see…?

---

Moments later, in Titir’s room.

Soft daylight slipped through the curtains, falling on one corner of the bed. Titir sat silently, clutching a pillow to her chest. She wasn’t crying—her eyes were dry. But her face was somber, shadowed with unease.

— “Why am I such a fool?” she muttered to herself.

— “Everyone saw… everyone saw me fall. Rudra too! And Seema—she just kept laughing!”

Her fingers clenched the pillow tighter and tighter. She knew it wasn’t really a big incident, yet the shame of that moment replayed in her mind, burning through her body like fire.

Outside, Seema quietly approached the door. She hesitated, then knocked gently.

— “Didi… open up. Ma’s calling. Breakfast is ready.”

No response.

Seema waited, then tried again, her voice softer now.

— “Titir Didi, please don’t be angry. I was only joking… you know that.”

There was a faint trace of guilt in her tone.

Inside, Titir buried her face deeper into the pillow. She could hear the regret in Seema’s voice, but she said nothing.

Seema lingered by the door for another moment, then whispered,

— “I’m going downstairs. You come too, okay?”

Her footsteps faded down the corridor. In the room, Titir let out a long, weary sigh.

---

Seema entered the hall quietly. Everyone was already seated at the table, but Titir was nowhere in sight.

In a low voice, Seema said,

— “Ma, Didi hasn’t come down yet. She wouldn’t open the door.”

Their mother, Satma, was pouring tea at the side of the table. Her face tightened with irritation.

— “Alright. You sit and eat. I’ll call her.”

Seema sat silently. On the table lay toast, ghee-poha, boiled eggs, and steaming milk. The air was heavy with unease. Everyone knew something had happened, yet no one spoke.

Satma walked slowly down the corridor—toward Titir’s room.

At the door, she knocked softly. Tok tok.

Inside, Titir was lying under the quilt. Hearing the knock, she said irritably,

— “Seema, go eat breakfast. I’m not hungry.”

But the voice that came from outside was firm yet gentle.

— “Not Seema. It’s me. Open the door, Titir. This isn’t the right way to behave. No one skips breakfast.”

Titir froze for a moment. She hadn’t expected her mother herself to come. Slowly, she pulled the quilt down from her face. Her eyes were caught between hesitation and sorrow.

After a long silence, she answered,

— “I’ll eat later, Ma… I’m just not in the mood right now.”

Satma stood quietly on the other side of the door, then spoke in a softer tone.

— “I know your anger, your hurt—I understand. But nothing works on an empty stomach, my child. I’m going downstairs. Come when you can. Eat while the food is still warm.”

With that, she turned back toward the table.

Her footsteps faded away. Silence once again filled the room.

Titir pressed her face back into the pillow.