ADHURI KAHANI: A tale of an amnesic bond

22. WHY ME?

INAAYA'S POV

I rang the doorbell at the place where Ishani and I live, but there was no response. After a second attempt, I realized she was probably at work.

I was drenched through and through, having stood in the rain for a good half-hour waiting for an auto. When I finally reached home, exhaustion set in. My eyes stung from crying in the rain, and water droplets clung to my kurta, jeans, and hair, which had come loose from its ponytail.

I opened the zipper of my bag, searching for the key while struggling to keep my composure and hold back tears. My chest tightened, and the same constricting sensation spread to my throat, making it ache. As I inserted the key and turned it, the twisting motion seemed to echo the turmoil inside me.

I pushed open the door, stepped into the living room, and closed it behind me. My bag slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor. I placed the key on the coffee table and made my way to my room. I was on the verge of another breakdown but focused on reaching my bed.

One step, Inaaya.

One step at a time.

Just one step.

I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to alleviate the growing void in my heart—a void that felt darker, more expansive, and ready to consume me at any moment. My legs gave out beneath me, and I dropped to the floor, unable to keep my steps steady. My breath came in ragged gasps, matching the unsteady rhythm of my heart. Everything in front of me blurred as tears streamed down my face, distorting the world around me into a hazy mess of pain and despair.

The guilt of having blamed him, of misjudging and cursing him in my anger, gnawed at my insides, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. It mingled with the sadness that seemed to crush my very soul, pressing down on my chest until I felt like I could barely breathe. The realization that nothing would ever be the same again—that the person I loved, the person who had meant everything to me, no longer remembered me—was a torment I couldn't escape. He doesn't remember me. The words echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat. He doesn't remember me and will never.

The cruel irony of it all was too much to bear. The life we could have had, the future we should have shared—it was all gone, stolen by a moment of fate. Ishaan had wanted to confess, and we would have been together, building a life that was now nothing more than a shattered dream. That accident didn't just change his life; it destroyed mine too. Life had always been unfair, ripping away my parents when I was too young to understand, and now it had taken Ishaan—the person I loved more than anything. It's unfair. It's all so painfully, devastatingly unfair.

I slumped against the bed, my back pressed against it for support, though nothing could hold me up against the tide of despair that threatened to drown me. The tendrils of darkness coiled around my heart, squeezing tighter, pulling me back into the depths I had fought so hard to escape. They whispered in my ear, telling me that this was where I belonged—in the dark, where no light could reach me, where I would be alone, forever lost.

Why me? I whispered, my voice trembling as I questioned whatever entity might be listening above. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? The words escaped me in a broken plea, a desperate cry into the void.

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of it pressing down on me, crushing the remnants of hope I had clung to for so long. I was tired—so tired—of fighting against the current that seemed determined to drag me down, of holding on when everything kept slipping through my fingers.

A cry tore from my lips, raw and uncontrollable, quickly followed by another, and another. I screamed , a desperate wail filled with sorrow and agony, hoping that somehow, releasing this torrent of emotion would purge the pain from my heart. But no matter how loud or long I screamed, the anguish remained, deepening with every breath, every cry.