matched by destiny

Chapter 5: The Call

The line crackles in the silence that follows. Meera stares out the window at the darkening sky, the first stars pricking through. Somewhere in her chest, a long-closed door shifts on its hinges.

“You need to come back,” Suzy says, her voice firm. “I mean it, Meera.”

“It’s late,” Meera replies, her voice flat. “We’ll talk another day.”

“No, we won’t,” Suzy shoots back. “You’ve been saying ‘another day’ for two years. I’m done waiting for another day.”

Meera grips the phone tighter. She can hear traffic in the background, the distant blare of a horn, the clatter of city life. It feels like listening to another planet.

“I can’t, Suzy.”

“You can,” Suzy says. “You just don’t want to.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. Meera traces the grain of the porch railing with her fingertip. The wood is familiar under her skin—safe. The city feels like something sharp she doesn’t want to touch.

“It’s been two years,” Suzy says, her voice softer now. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life hiding here?”

“I’m not hiding,” Meera lies.

“You’re not living either,” Suzy says, blunt as ever. “You’ve shut yourself in a box, and you’ve convinced yourself it’s the whole world. It’s not.”

Meera swallows. “The city has… memories.”

“It also has your work,” Suzy says. “Remember that thing you used to do? Drawing stories that made kids laugh? Your publisher called me last month. They still want you back. They said if you don’t finish the book you owe them, they’ll demand the advance back.”

“That’s not—” Meera stops. “They contacted you?”

“You don’t answer their calls. What were they supposed to do?” Suzy sighs, and Meera can hear the shift of her sister settling onto what must be her couch. “Look, you’re drowning in the same day, over and over. And it’s not just about work.”

“What else, then?” Meera asks, defensive.

Suzy hesitates, and when she speaks again, her voice has that hesitant wobble that means she’s about to tell the truth, no matter how messy it is. “I’m pregnant.”

The word hangs in the air between them. Pregnant. It’s such a round, full word for a life Meera feels has been flat for so long.

She blinks into the dark. “You’re… serious?”

“Yes. About three months. I wanted to tell you in person, but you keep refusing to come.” A pause. “I don’t want my kid to grow up with an aunt who’s just a voice on the phone.”

Meera’s throat tightens. “Suzy…”

“I’m not saying you need to move back permanently,” Suzy says quickly. “Just… visit. Help me set up the nursery. Meet my friends. See the city without letting it eat you alive.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Meera murmurs.

“It’s not,” Suzy admits. “But you’re stronger than you think. And honestly, I need you. There’s a lot going on. The apartment needs repairs, my job is insane, and I don’t want to do this alone.”

The sound of her sister’s voice pulls at something in Meera—a memory of the two of them on a shared bed as kids, whispering secrets into the dark, daring each other to dream bigger. The city might be full of ghosts, but it’s also where her sister’s life is unfolding in real time.

And Meera has been absent for all of it.

“I can’t promise anything,” she says finally.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Suzy says. “Really think about it. Not just shove it aside and hope I forget.”

Meera exhales slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Suzy says, her tone brightening. “I’ll call you in a few days. And Meera? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Meera says, and means it.

When the call ends, the silence feels heavier than before. The porch is dark now, the garden invisible beyond the low fence. Her parents’ voices drift from the kitchen, the familiar cadence of their evening routine.

She lingers outside a moment longer, phone still warm in her hand. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird calls, low and mournful. She tries to picture herself in the city again—her desk in the small apartment she left, the chaos of traffic, the smell of rain on concrete. She can’t decide if the image is comforting or unbearable.

She slips the phone into her pocket and heads inside. Her parents are at the table, plates already set. Her mother looks up with a smile that says she’s been waiting.

“Who was on the phone?” her father asks.

“Suzy,” Meera says. She hesitates, then adds, “She wants me to come back to the city.”

Her father’s eyebrows lift. “And what do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly.

Her mother exchanges a glance with her father, then reaches over to ladle dal into Meera’s bowl. “Eat first. We’ll talk about it.”

That night, she lies awake in her childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. The shadows of the tree outside sway across the plaster, and she thinks about Jatin. About Suzy. About a baby she’s never met and a city she’s been avoiding like an open wound.

She doesn’t have an answer yet.

But she can feel the question taking root.