Word Count: 1980

Contd.

SAMARTH pushed open the heavy, creaking doors and entered the dimly lit lobby. He was met with the sterile scent of disinfectant. He had made himself visit the hospital, but what now? It wasn't a regular hospital; the place felt like a world apart from the sunny, carefree days of his childhood. The receptionist, an elderly woman with tired eyes, sat on her chair, uninterested in him.

A heavy sense of anticipation and unease washed over him. He had not been back to this place in over a decade, not since the day Kavya's mother had angrily shaken him and tried to take him away from his mother. The memories of that day still haunted him, and the questions that had lingered unanswered for so long now gnawed at his soul.

The mental hospital itself seemed to exude an aura of foreboding. Its walls, once stark white, had faded to a dull, off-white, and the windows were barred, like the secrets held within. The place felt like a fortress guarding the mysteries of the past. Sam couldn't help but shiver, a mixture of anxiety and apprehension coursing through his veins.

Sam's footsteps echoed in the empty courtyard as he approached the receptionist. He had spent countless hours over the initial few years trying to make sense of the tragedy that had claimed Kavya's life. He had replayed their last moments together in his mind, searching for any clue that might explain what had happened. But the pieces of the puzzle had never fit together.

"I am here to see Naina Jha," Samarth announced at the reception and waited for the elderly woman to respond.

She handed over an old tattered diary to him and told him to fill in the details—his identity and purpose of the visit and what his relationship to the patient was. He quickly scribbled some information in the diary, not wanting to stand there any longer.

The receptionist took the diary back and without even glancing at his entry, closed it. "Straight down to the right," she said, motioning towards the room where Kavya's mother was, with bored eyes, and went back to scrolling her phone.

As Sam made his way down the narrow, sterile corridor, he couldn't help but wonder what he would find behind that door. Would Kavya's mother hold the answers he had been seeking all these years? And what had driven her to blame Niti, the one person who had stood by Kavya's side until the end?

The moment of truth was drawing near, and Sam's heart raced with a mix of hope and fear. He had come here for closure, to uncover the truth about Kavya's death and to understand the inexplicable hatred toward Niti.

As Sam stood outside the door, memories from that fateful time a decade ago flooded his mind. He remembered the last visit he had made to this very hospital with his mother when he was just twelve years old. Mrs. Jha's condition had been deteriorating steadily in the wake of Kavya's tragic death. The pain and grief had taken a toll on her fragile psyche, and it was decided that she needed professional care.

He recalled how, during her darkest moments, Mrs. Jha had tried to claim Samarth as her own son, refusing to accept Kavya as her child. It had been a heartbreaking and surreal experience for young Sam. His mother had explained that it was the result of Mrs. Jha's fragile mental state, a desperate attempt to hold on to a reality that had crumbled around her.

Despite the traumatic incident, Sam's parents, especially his Nani, had continued to visit Mrs. Jha in the hospital. Their compassion and dedication had never wavered, even in the face of such heart-wrenching circumstances. But over the years, the visits had become less frequent, as the demands of life and the passage of time had taken their toll. Sam had grown up, moved away for college, and built a life of his own, distancing himself from the painful memories of his childhood.

He had not seen or known Mrs. Jha for a long time. He wasn't expecting much from her during this meeting, given her fragile mental state and the years of separation. But there was one question that had nagged at him persistently: Why did she harbor such intense hatred toward Niti?

As Sam took a deep breath and pushed open the door, he was met with a scene that tugged at his heartstrings. Mrs. Jha, now a frail and elderly woman, sat in a corner of the room, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Her once-vibrant eyes were now dulled by the passage of time and the weight of her grief. Sam could hardly recognize the woman who had once been a second mother to him.

He approached her cautiously, unsure of how she would react to his presence. Her gaze slowly turned towards him, but it was empty, devoid of recognition. Sam's heart sank, realizing that she might not even remember him, let alone answer his questions.

I can't give up now...

"Hi Aunty, kese ho?" Sam inquired gently, though he felt a pang of sadness seeing the state of Mrs. Jha. It was evident that her time in this place had taken its toll, and the spark of her former self had dimmed considerably.

Mrs. Jha continued to stare blankly, her gaze unfocused. Sam felt a deep sense of sympathy for her, realizing the immense suffering she must have endured over the years.

As he glanced around the room, searching for a way to initiate the conversation and guide it toward the topic of Niti, his mind raced with thoughts. He couldn't help but reflect on the recent revelations about Niti, particularly her past as Nitisha, and how it had come to light in such an unexpected manner. Why had she never mentioned her earlier identity to him? And why had he not shared his knowledge of Niti's grandmother's feelings towards her? These questions weighed on his conscience.

In this moment, it felt as if he were a character in a movie, where secrets were unveiled one by one, connecting the dots of their intertwined lives. Sam began to ponder his own role in this web of hidden truths. Had he ever mentioned Kavya to Niti? Had he provided any insight into the events that had shaped his life before they met in college?

The realization hit him like a wave. No, he hadn't. He had never opened up about Kavya to Niti, not even once. He had kept his own past locked away, just as Niti had kept her previous identity hidden. In that moment, he understood the complexity of human nature and the instinct to shield one's most painful memories from those we love.

As he stood in that emotionless room, a profound sense of empathy washed over him. He knew that he couldn't judge Niti for her secrets when he, too, had withheld his own. Perhaps it was time for them both to share their pasts, their pain, and their memories, no matter how difficult they might be. Only then could they truly understand each other and move forward together.

Sam glanced at the clock on the pale white wall, its dull ticking seemed to reverberate through the room, creating an eerie atmosphere that matched the somber surroundings. The clock, with its relentless movement, appeared to be a silent witness to the melancholic moments of life.

Time was ticking away, and Sam was acutely aware of his impending responsibilities. He had less than an hour before he had to leave for the office, but his desire for answers couldn't wait.

Sitting down beside Mrs. Jha, Sam felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him. The sterile scent of medicines hung in the air, a constant reminder of the reality of this place. He tried once more to connect with her, to evoke some spark of recognition.

"Aunty, it's me, Samarth," he said softly, a tinge of awkwardness in his voice. The years of separation and the stark environment made it challenging to know how she would respond. "Do you remember me? I was Kavya's friend."

There was still no response from Mrs. Jha, her vacant gaze fixed on some distant point. Sam continued, desperate to establish a connection that might lead him to the answers he sought.

"Your mother and my Nani were good friends before, remember?" he added, hoping that the mention of their shared history might trigger a memory or a flicker of recognition.

He watched Mrs. Jha closely, his heart heavy with the uncertainty of whether she would be able to provide any insight into Niti's past or the reasons behind her current situation. Time was slipping away, but he couldn't leave without at least attempting to uncover the truth that had remained hidden for far too long.

Samarth weighed his options carefully, but the urgency of his questions and the uncertainty of whether he'd have another opportunity to speak with Mrs. Jha compelled him to get straight to the point. He knew that if he didn't receive an answer now, he might have to return later, regardless of his choice.

Summoning his courage, he posed the question that had been haunting him for years, "Why do you blame Niti—Nitisha for Kavya's death?"

The mention of Kavya had elicited no response from Mrs. Jha, but the name "Niti" seemed to stir something within her. She shifted in her seat, turning her head towards Samarth and fixing her gaze squarely on his eyes. Her sudden focus sent a shiver down Samarth's spine, a mixture of hope and trepidation.

Samarth's heart raced with anticipation as he waited for her to say something.

Am I finally going to get a response?

Samarth watched in a mix of shock and distress as Mrs. Jha struggled to form words. Her voice emerged as a croak, a stark reminder of her prolonged silence. When she finally managed to speak, her question caught him off guard, "Why are you here?"

Confused by her response, Samarth stammered, "Sorry?" He hadn't expected to be questioned in return.

Mrs. Jha's fragile demeanor shifted, and a flash of fear washed over her eyes. She insisted, "If you have anything to ask, go ask Siddharth Ji."

Desperation welled up within Samarth as he pleaded with her, "Aunty, I can't ask him. You have to tell me, please."

Her eyes filled with an intensity Samarth hadn't seen before. "No, I have to ask him first. Siddharth!"

In an abrupt and startling motion, Mrs. Jha rose from her chair, which crashed to the floor with a loud thud. She began to cry and shout, repeating Siddharth's name frantically. Samarth recoiled, alarmed by her sudden outburst.

She was flailing around crying out her dead husband's name.

Not knowing how to handle the situation, he took a step back. Mrs. Jha reached out and clung to his arm, her grip growing uncomfortably tight. Her words became a desperate whisper, "You can't be here, Siddharth won't like it."

Samarth winced as her nails dug into his arms. He shouted in frustration, "Let go!" and attempted to push her away.

"Siddharth!" she kept shouting, her cries growing louder and more desperate by the second.

Two male nurses rushed into the room and grabbed Mrs. Jha from both sides, trying to restrain her.

"Leave," one of them ordered Samarth.

He had no intention of staying any longer. He hastily made his way toward the exit, his heart pounding.

Just as he was about to leave, Mrs. Jha's voice called out to him again, "Take the box!"

The box?

Mrs. Jha forcefully brushed aside the nurse's arms and sprinted toward him, clutching a box tightly in her hands. Urgently, she pressed it into his grasp, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Take the box and go, before Siddharth discovers it!" she implored, her grip on him firm. With sudden determination, she spun him around and pushed him out of the room, sealing the door behind him..

He stared down at the box, his mind racing with questions and a growing sense of urgency. 

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A/N

Hello again my little kawaiis!

I had decided to write about the box's contents in this vchapter but instead I had so much fun writing about Samarth attaining it! Lmao, idk how my mind works sometimes! 

Hope you all are as excited as I am for the reveal in the coming chapters!

What do you think is in the box? Comment below!

Do leave a vote if you enjoyed! A share would be much appreciated !