CHAPTER 6
549 Words
December 2019
Three months after Raghav and I began seeing each other...
we were married.
It wasn't the wedding either of us had imagined.
No music.
No celebration.
No blessing from his family.
Only two signatures, a few witnesses, and promises we believed would outlive everything else.
I belonged to a middle-class family.
Raghav Malhotra belonged to one of the wealthiest business families in the city.
To them...
I was a mistake.
His father never attended our wedding.
His mother never called.
The only thing they sent was a lawyer.
A week later, Raghav received his share of the family business.
Five percent.
Nothing more.
I remember asking him if it hurt.
He smiled.
"It'll be enough."
He always said that with a confidence I envied.
Months passed.
He worked harder than anyone I had ever known.
The more people underestimated him...
the harder he worked.
Within a year, his company began attracting clients that had once belonged to the family business.
People praised his success.
His family never did.
No one spoke openly about it.
Not in front of me.
But silence has its own language.
At family gatherings, conversations stopped when we entered the room.
Smiles disappeared.
Some hands shook ours.
Others never reached out.
I never asked questions.
Perhaps...
I was afraid of the answers.
One evening, Raghav insisted we have dinner outside.
The restaurant overlooked a quiet lake.
It should have been a peaceful night.
It wasn't.
Halfway through dinner, I noticed a man sitting alone near the far corner.
He wasn't eating.
His untouched coffee had long gone cold.
Every few minutes...
his eyes drifted toward our table.
At first, I ignored it.
Then I noticed something else.
When I walked toward the washroom, I passed close enough to see the outline beneath his jacket.
It looked like the grip of a pistol.
I froze.
By the time I returned, my heartbeat had become louder than the music playing inside the restaurant.
"Raghav..."
I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Let's leave."
He looked at me, confused.
"Now."
He followed my eyes.
For the briefest moment...
his expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Then it was gone.
"It's nothing," he said quietly.
"We're staying."
I had never seen him lie so calmly.
We left nearly twenty minutes later.
The parking area was almost empty.
Only the sound of distant traffic broke the silence.
As we reached the car...
I looked back.
The man was walking behind us.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
One hand slipped beneath his jacket.
My heart stopped.
"Raghav..."
He turned.
The man's hand emerged.
Metal flashed beneath the streetlight.
I screamed.
Someone shouted.
Tyres screeched somewhere beyond the parking lot.
And then...
nothing.
The man was gone.
No footsteps.
No gunshot.
No trace.
As though he had vanished into the night.
The police arrived within minutes.
Questions followed.
"Did either of you recognize him?"
"No."
"Do you suspect anyone?"
I opened my mouth.
Before I could speak...
I looked at Raghav.
He was staring at me.
Not with fear.
With a warning.
A tiny movement of his head.
Almost invisible.
Don't.
I looked back at the officer.
"No," I whispered.
"I don't know who he was."
That night...
Raghav never explained why he stopped me from answering.
Years later...
I would wish he had.
- Writer
