Shadows Of The Stumps

Chapter - 90

Later that evening, Meera reclined in her chair, her phone in her hand as she spoke with Athiya. On the other end, Athiya lounged comfortably at her parents' home, a soft glow of evening light streaming in. In the background, Ahan busied himself arranging a bowl of fruits with meticulous care, placing it on the side table.

Athiya glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You're suddenly getting all lovey-dovey towards me. What's the occasion?"

Ahan shot her a playful glare as he handed over the bowl. "Not for you," he replied, his tone dry but affectionate. "It's for the niece or nephew who'll be joining us soon." Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room, leaving Athiya chuckling.

"You see what I mean?" Athiya said, turning back to Meera. "He's always like this—never admits he loves me, but he's right here the moment I call him."

Meera smiled knowingly. "That's exactly how your brothers love you. Silent, stubborn, but always there." Her voice softened, carrying a trace of nostalgia. "You know, back when we were kids, for every little thing, I'd call Anna. He'd braid my hair, wake me up for school, even feed me. I don't think I ever did anything on my own."

Athiya's smile grew, sensing the warmth in Meera's words. "You must have been quite the little queen," she teased.

Meera chuckled. "It wasn't just that. Anna had this way of knowing when I needed him, even before I said anything. He never failed me."

Athiya's expression turned tender, pride evident in her voice. "Rahul still loves you like that, Meera. You might be stronger now—a security agent and all—but for him, you'll always be that little sister who needs her Anna to braid her hair or remind her to eat."

Meera rolled her eyes, laughing softly. "You make me sound so helpless!"

Athiya's voice grew serious, though the warmth never left. "Remember this, Meera: he loves you just the same. If anything, anything, makes you even slightly uncomfortable, promise me you'll call him."

Meera's smile faltered, but she nodded resolutely. "I promise."

"And you too," Meera added after a pause. "Please take care of yourself."

Just then, Sunil, walked into the room, his gentle presence filling the space. "Alright, daughters, time to rest now. Meera, you too. Take care, okay?"

As Meera ended the call with Athiya, she casually glanced at her phone and noticed a barrage of unread WhatsApp messages. She hadn't opened the app in weeks—not since the mission that had upended her world, taking Ayan and Arya away from her. Her finger hesitated over the app icon before finally tapping it.

The messages poured in: We're sorry for your loss, Stay strong, Hope you're doing okay, Thinking of you. From friends, colleagues, even distant acquaintances.

The more she scrolled, the heavier her chest felt. Each word, though well-meaning, pulled her deeper into the memories she'd been fighting to bury. Her mind spun, hurtling her back into the mission.

The blast. The deafening noise. The searing heat. Falling unconscious. Waking up to the news.

Her breath quickened as fragmented images flashed before her eyes—Ayan's calm smile, Arya's laugh, the playful banter, the stern yet loving gaze. Then came the funeral at the academy, the flags, the salutes, the grief-stricken faces. And the goodbyes—each one tearing a piece of her apart.

Meera clutched her chest, her breathing shallow and erratic. The panic attack was clawing at her, a relentless weight on her lungs.

Her mind raced. This isn't going away with pills, she realized, panic rising. And Arjun's not here to calm me down.