𝙍𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘿𝙀

57. F I F T Y - S E V E N

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" Love is drug which makes a mentally strong man go weak for his woman ."

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NEXT DAY

Flight to Oxford

" Sir , would you like to have some coffee ?" The air hostess asked me .

" No ." I denied trying to have my own peace .

1 year , it has been freaking one year . Your memory haunts her , me . All night I look at those glass windows and your image .... picture of your soul imprints way scary . I might never find another reason to die when I have already one in front of me .

Lat night it was quite difficult to handle Amma since she never listened even for once .

" Looks like eszopiclone worked too much ." I murmured to myself .

It is quite difficult to make someone understand how the hell she's in this situation when she looked perfectly fine . Along with small family of her readymade son and a grand-daughter .

I hope so , I end all of this at once and die...

" Ravi , Make sure all arrangements are done . And hopefully I really want you to understand that no mention of her from anyone ."

" Yes sir ." Ravi said and went back to his seat .

Landing in Oxford I sensed a different environment and the rush of something unexpected crossed my mind . I know very well but as long as I know I am away from everything that I ever tried to keep to myself .

" Amma you go first and I'll be back ." Amma nodded .
She didn't talk to me when we were on flight , she ignored me all way here while I am doing everything for her .

After 15-16 hrs of flight these people expect me to attend a meeting and neither I can ignore . This is one of the overseas deal and I can't deny attending one .

" Ravi , take Amma to accomodation and I'll be heading to attend that deal ." I said but Ravi hesitated .

" But sir , I could do both of the works ." I looked at him with my done face .

" Would you do as I said ? Do I need to repeat twice now ?" The frustration kind of spilled out.  He just nodded .

Amma not talking to me and him questioning every single thing caught me attracting non needed frustration . Whatever I do , someone is going to be unhappy .
Whatever happened that day was something I would never wanna experience again .

The room smelled of old wood and rain. Oxford in November had a particular cruelty to it — the kind that did not announce itself loudly but crept into the bones slow and deliberate, like grief.

Kartik sat in a metal folding chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his jaw locked, his eyes fixed on the scuffed linoleum floor of the community centre hall somewhere on the outskirts of the city. The fluorescent light above him buzzed faintly. Around him, a circle of twelve other people sat in similar chairs — different faces, different ages, different kinds of broken. Nobody would dare to mess up by saying first word here. That was the first rule.

The circle of people here was kind that did not advertise itself on billboards, the
kind where the address was passed quietly between people who understood what it meant to be undone by love — or by the absence of it. Kartik had been given the address by a contact three days
ago. He had not been told the specifics of the group. He had only been told: someone there might know something you are looking for. He had not asked more. He had simply come.