A Web of Love and Deceit

Épilogue

Epilogue — Four Years Later

The gentle chime of the flight's landing announcement stirred Ram from his uneasy sleep. The cabin lights flickered on, casting a soft glow over tired faces and crumpled blankets. He sat still for a moment, staring out at the familiar haze of rain-washed tarmac. He was back. Kochi. Home... or what used to be.

His throat tightened.

He didn't know how four years had passed. Time had blurred into one long stretch of noise and silence. He had run—not walked, not drifted—run from everything. From the suffocating shame, from the harsh whispers and mocking glances, from the house that had grown too small for his pain... and from the love that almost broke him.

A tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it. He let out a dry laugh and wiped it away quickly.

It had been four years since he last saw Shiva.

The memory stung like a reopened wound. The last time was at Shivada's wedding. He had arrived deliberately late, just in time to give her a quiet smile from afar, long after the vows had been spoken. He had felt Shiva's gaze on him the entire time—burning, searching—but he didn't look back. He couldn't. Because he knew... if he did, he would fall apart. He watched Aadhi place the thali around his sister's neck, watched love win. And then, he left.

He didn't say goodbye.

Since then, the only thread tying him back to home had been Shivada. She called him almost every day. Some days she scolded him, some days she cried, most days she simply talked—about Aadhi, about Amma, about nothing and everything. Through her, gradually, even his parents began to reach out. There were apologies. Pleas. Long voicemails filled with regret. They wanted their son back.

But how could he return when his wounds were still raw?

He tried to move on. Tried to love again. He even tried to hate Shiva, but nothing worked. Every time someone touched his hand or looked at him with interest, his heart recoiled. It had forgotten how to trust. Maybe even forgotten how to love.

He was tired of running. That's why he was here.

The plane doors opened with a hiss, and the scent of wet earth and airport coffee filled the air. Ram stood up, his fingers trembling as he reached for his bag.

As soon as the immigration formalities were done, Ram retrieved his suitcase and stepped out into the familiar chaos of the Kochi airport. The humidity clung to his skin like a memory, dense and inescapable. He pulled out his phone and tapped the only number that had been a lifeline these past few years.

"Shoebill..." he said softly into the receiver, trying to keep his voice light.

He immediately had to jerk the phone away as her joyful scream erupted through the speaker.
"Ammaaa! He landed! He landed!"

He chuckled, warmth blooming in his chest despite the anxiety gnawing at the edges.

"Did you reach the car yet?" she asked, her voice breathless with excitement.

"Not yet. I'm still looking. Tell me—is it Aadhi or a driver?"

There was a pause. A too-long pause.

"Umm... Ram, don't kill me, okay? It's not Aadhi. He's caught up with something at the factory."

He stopped walking.

"Then who?" he asked cautiously, his grip tightening on the handle of his suitcase.

Another pause. He could practically hear her wincing through the line.