Quarantine Hearts

Chapter Ten: Shadows of the Past

The holding cell was dimly lit, its concrete walls cold and unwelcoming. Meera sat on the narrow cot, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the situation. The door creaked open, and her breath caught in her throat as Vivaan stepped inside. He stood at the doorway, his expression cold and impassive, a stark contrast to the warmth she once knew.

Meera's heart ached as she looked at him, memories of their past flooding her mind. She remembered the countless nights they spent talking during the lockdown, sharing their hopes and dreams. The connection they had forged felt so real, so profound.

"Vivaan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's me, Meera. Do you remember?"

Vivaan's gaze remained fixed, his face devoid of emotion. "Be quiet," he said coldly.

Undeterred, Meera continued, "We met during the lockdown. We talked every night, shared our lives. You told me about your dreams, your fears. We were so close, Vivaan."

There was a flicker in Vivaan's eyes, a brief moment of recognition that quickly disappeared. "I said be quiet," he repeated, but his voice lacked the previous harshness.

Meera's heart leapt with hope. "You looked at me just now, the way you used to during our video calls. Do you remember, Vivaan?"

For a split second, Vivaan's cold exterior seemed to crack. He looked at her, his eyes softening as if he was seeing her for the first time in years. But just as quickly, the moment passed, and the icy mask returned.

"Get some rest," he said flatly, turning away from her.

Meera watched him, her heart breaking. She thought back to the moment she first realized she was in love with him. It was during one of their late-night calls when he had looked at her with such tenderness and sincerity. She had seen the same look in his eyes tonight, if only for a fleeting second. Despite everything, she knew he was still in there, somewhere.

Exhausted from the day's events, Meera lay down on the cot and drifted off to sleep, her thoughts lingering on the man she loved and the hope that she could bring him back.

The next morning, the cell door opened again. Two guards entered and roughly pulled Meera to her feet. She was led through a series of corridors until they reached a lavishly decorated room. The air was thick with the scent of rich mahogany and expensive cologne.

At the center of the room sat Raghav Kapoor, a man of imposing presence with a calculating gaze. For someone so rich, he looked rather chubby. He was seated at a large table set with an elaborate breakfast spread. He looked up as Meera was brought before him, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning, Meera," Raghav said smoothly. "Let's have some breakfast and then I'll tell you how you're going to die."