Reclaimed Legacy

(4) - Weight of Regrets

Armaan stood on the terrace, his eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for a reply from the other side of the line. The phone rang endlessly, the waiting like a slow burn in his chest. Finally, the voice of Kipling Uncle, the caretaker of the resort in Mussoorie, broke the silence.

"Hello? Armaan beta, kaise ho? It's been a while."

Armaan swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "Uncle... has Abhira come to Mussoorie?"

There was a brief pause on the other end, as though Kipling Uncle was piecing things together. "No, beta. I haven't seen her. She hasn't come by the resort at all. Is everything okay?"

Armaan froze, his grip tightening on the phone. That question – "Is everything okay?" – sent a wave of guilt crashing over him. Everything was far from okay. Deep inside, he knew it. But he couldn't answer. His silence spoke volumes.

"Armaan?" Kipling Uncle's concerned voice broke through the static in Armaan's mind.

"Sorry, Uncle... I—I don't know," Armaan admitted, his voice faltering. He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Do you know if there's any place Abhira might go if it's not Mussoorie? I need to find her."

Kipling Uncle sighed, a deep, thoughtful sound. "Well... if not Mussoorie, then she might've gone to Delhi."

"Delhi?" Armaan's brow furrowed. "Why Delhi?"

"Beta, Abhira grew up in Delhi," Kipling Uncle explained. "She lived here in Mussoorie for only two years. Before that, she used to visit with Akshara during vacations. Akshara madam would come every four months or so. Then, one time, Akshara came with Abhira to live here permanently. I never asked why they left Delhi, but it was sudden."

The mention of Delhi took Armaan by surprise. Abhira... grew up in Delhi? She had never mentioned it to him. All this time, he thought he knew her, knew her story, but there were so many layers he had yet to uncover.

Before he could think further, Kipling Uncle asked again, more pressing this time. "Armaan, what's going on? What happened to Abhira?"

Armaan hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failure. "She's upset with me," he finally confessed, his voice trembling. "She left me, Uncle... I need to find her. I made mistakes, big mistakes, and now I need to say sorry and bring her home. I don't even know if she'll listen to me, but I have to try."

A sharp silence followed on the other end of the line. Armaan braced himself for the anger, for Kipling Uncle to lash out at him the way he deserved. And for a moment, Kipling Uncle's voice did rise in frustration.

"You fool, Armaan! You let her go?"

Armaan's throat tightened. "I—I was an idiot, Uncle. I didn't realize what I had... until it was too late."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end, and Kipling Uncle's voice softened. "Beta, I can hear it in your voice. You really want to make things right."

"I do," Armaan whispered, his voice thick with regret.

"Alright," Kipling Uncle relented. "If I hear anything about Abhira, I'll let you know. But listen to me, son—Abhira is a strong, independent girl. She knows how to take care of herself. You'll find her. Don't worry too much."

Armaan nodded, even though Kipling Uncle couldn't see him. "Thank you, Uncle. I really appreciate it."

After hanging up, Armaan stood in silence for a moment, lost in thought. If Abhira isn't in Mussoorie... where could she be? Should I follow Kipling Uncle's advice and look for her in Delhi? But why would Abhira go to Delhi? And why had she never told him she grew up there?

Armaan's thoughts drifted to the time when Akshara Ma'am had taught him at his college in Delhi. It had been for two months during a guest lecture series. Was Abhira in Delhi then too? If so, they had been in the same city at the same time, crossing paths without ever knowing it. Fate had kept them apart, only to bring them together years later in Mussoorie. That was perfect, Armaan thought. Mussoorie was their destined place to meet.

But now, she was gone. And Armaan had no clue where to begin.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. He pulled out his phone and called a friend in Delhi.

"Hey, it's Armaan," he said, his voice urgent. "I need your help. Can you find someone for me? Her name's Abhira Sharma... I'll send you all the details. I'm coming to Delhi in a few days."

His friend agreed, and Armaan hung up, staring at his phone. He had barely taken a breath before his eyes fell on a news alert that froze him to the core. His entire being felt numb as he read the headline: "Bus from Udaipur to Mussoorie Involved in Tragic Accident."

His heart pounded in his chest. Abhira... she left Udaipur yesterday morning.

The horrifying realization hit him like a punch to the gut. What if she was on that bus?

Before he could process his fear, his phone rang again. This time, the caller ID showed an unknown number.

"Hello?" Armaan answered, his voice shaky.

"Is this Armaan Poddar?" a calm but firm voice asked.

"Yes, I am."

"This is from Mussoorie Police Station. We found the belongings of a girl named Abhira Sharma. Your number was saved as her emergency contact. We need you to come to identify her."

Armaan felt his world collapse around him. His hands trembled, his voice caught in his throat. "W-what? No, no, she... she can't be..."

"I'm sorry, sir," the voice continued. "We've identified the survivors, but we need you to come and help us with the deceased. Her phone was found intact, likely because it was inside her clothes. We'll need you to confirm..."

The words blurred into static. Armaan felt his legs give way as the phone slipped from his hand. He collapsed to the floor, his heart shattering with the possibility that he was too late.