The Exilir And The Poison

Chapter 8: A Fortress in Ruins

They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay

His world fell apart.

Again.

A pile of the ashes of burned roses drifting in the air, aimlessly traveling in the direction unknown.

And it still hurt just the same it had all those months ago.

Relentless silence clung over the tall building of RV Empire, desperately waiting for a distraction, a release from the claws of misery that scrabbled its way back to unbearable pain — to him. So far, it found no respite.

Ranveer watched out of the window, gaze trained on the tall shapeless figures the trees formed. He wiped his face, then tightened his fingers around the armrest, taking a deep breath as he tried to forget one last time the last three days – or last seven months.

Falguni Ma was dead. Gone.

Ishaani was alive.

He remembered vaguely of the day he'd received a call from the jail authorities who informed him of Ishaani's death sentence. Like a moth destined to burn in flame, he'd rushed over to the fires he knew would perish him eventually. But she was his home, and he had to be where she was.

If death came their way, he would be the first one to go. He muttered a silent prayer to God to make this happen. Ranveer knew he couldn't change anything now when things were so close to ending. Still, he would talk to her. No matter how much she hated him, she was a human after all and his friend – his master's daughter. He was her servant. That's how she saw him. Why would she wait for her servant anyway? What would she get by waiting for him? He was her friend. Her husband. Her servant.

His heart sank at the thought, a knot twisting painfully in his chest as a terrifying pain shook his body. He shivered. Ranveer had to stop his car and wait until his nerves calmed down, gaze cleared of the treacherous visions betraying him from the truth. When he reached the jail, another unfamiliar face of a cop met him. Her eyes lingered on his face and, to him, it seemed as though she knew him.

"I want to see Ishaani Vaghela," he said without thought. His mind was filled with the visions of his Ishaani in the jail while he lived a comfortable life with his family, surrounded by the people who loved him.

"There's no Ishaani Vaghela in this jail." Her tone was clipped that deceived the polite expressions on her face.

"How's it even possible? She was —"

"You mean Ishaani Parekh?"

"Yes." The realization of this simple truth was like a drop of acid on his skin. "I want to see her."

"It's not about what you want, sir. She doesn't want to see you."

He immediately called an old friend in the police department, seeking the permission that he was granted. The woman looked crestfallen and sighed. Without another word, she led him to Ishaani's cell, a quiet sad place that resembled death and deteriorating dreams and smelled of intractable loneliness. Time held no importance in this place: time was a forgotten entity in this space, a state that simply existed in the otherwise changeable world. The place was a hollow structure of concrete with miseries cemented in its roots branching up to the core of those who lived here. No windows appeared in sight, no way to get in or out. Time was a forgotten thing in this corner of the world.

He shut his eyes, keeping her laughter out of his mind, her ridiculing words at bay clawing their way to him. Each step was heavy as though he was willingly walking towards his doom and a life that was devoid of death. Her cell was a small room, smaller than he'd ever seen, and no window inside. Instead, only small metallic bars opened and closed to let the prisoners go out or let them in. He coughed. She had to be here. His heart hammered in his ribcage as he moved closer in the darkness.