Vaidehi - His Second chance [On Hold]

42. Who is She?

✦Sankaar✦

I am Sanskaar Singh Suryavanshi—or at least that's what they call me.

But I don't know who that is anymore.

I feel like a cloud, drifting aimlessly in the midst of a dark storm, unable to find its way back home. Everything that defined me, everything I once held onto, has been washed away. I'm lost. Drowning. Drowning in a sea so deep, even the light can't reach me.

And yet, I keep sinking, hoping that somewhere in the darkest depths of this ocean, I'll find something to grasp. Something to pull me out of this suffocating emptiness.

But the truth is—I don't even know what I'm searching for anymore.

My heart is a void—completely numb. Not because I don't feel, but because what I feel is strange, unfamiliar. It's a deep, soul-bound ache, like a part of me is missing, lost somewhere in the fragments of memories I can't reach.

There's pain, but it's not the kind that stabs or burns—it lingers, heavy and hollow, like a distant echo I can't quite grasp. The worst part? I can't even explain it. I don't know if I'm longing for something or mourning for something I've already lost.

And the worst part is living with it—waking up every single day for the past six months, trying to piece together the faded images. The beautiful smile I sense behind the darkness of my closed eyes. That faint laughter echoing in my mind, a memory that feels so close yet just out of reach.

Then there's the shirt. A white shirt I found tucked away in my closet—my shirt, I'm sure of it. The one with the faint lipstick stain on the collar, and the lingering scent of rose and lavender. I don't know whose lips left the mark, or whose arms wore it, but something in me aches when I hold it. Like a forgotten warmth, lost but still present, it pulls at the emptiness inside me.

I clutch it sometimes, hoping it will lead me to whatever I've forgotten, whoever she is...

But fuck, as much as I try, all I have is a blank canvas in my mind—a complete darkness.

And on that canvas, I paint vivid images of her. They're not distinct, just enough to make me feel something, yet blurry enough that I can only imagine them with my eyes closed.

I see flashes of laughter, glimpses of her eyes sparkling with mischief, the way her hair would dance in the light. It's frustrating—each time I reach for clarity, it slips away, like water through my fingers. I can almost hear her voice, soft and inviting, but it fades before I can grasp it.

In this haze, I cling to those fragmented memories, as if they're all that's left of my sanity.

Hence, holding onto the threads of my sanity, I sat in my office chair, more like an observer than a participant. The staff buzzed around me, each focused on their tasks, their chatter creating a background hum that felt both comforting and alien.

I lifted my lashes at the sound of footsteps and found Aniket standing there, rubbing his unapologetic face—a sore sight for my eyes. This man had a grudge against me, always interrupting my moments of reflection. A true third wheel, if there ever was one.

"You don't even know how to apologize, Aniket. You need to keep your eyes low and your face dull for that. That's how you get an apology," I quipped, my irritation evident.

"Boss, I didn't happen to take a course in it," he shot back, a hint of defiance in his tone.

"Don't worry, I'll get you enrolled soon. You really need it," I replied with a smirk as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Sir, these are the reports of the recently joined staff at this branch," Aniket said, sliding a file across the desk.

"Hmmm..." I murmured, flipping through the pages. But as I scanned the names, one stood out like a beacon—Vaidehi. I traced the black letters of her name repeatedly, my heart inexplicably racing.