Barrister Babu

Chapter 84: Empty or Not

The house had finally emptied.

For days, people had come and gone without pause. Relatives filled every room. Priests recited prayers. Neighbors arrived carrying condolences that all sounded the same after a while.

Now they were gone.

Only the silence remained. It lingered in every corridor of the Maheshwari house, settling over the walls like dust.

Jaya had barely left her room since the rituals ended.

Tarbu spent most of his day locked inside his office, though everyone knew he wasn't working.

The servants moved quietly.

Nobody laughed anymore. Nobody argued. Nobody spoke louder than necessary.

The entire house behaved as though making too much noise might somehow remind them of what they had lost.

Tara hated it.

Most of all, she hated the fact that everyone kept acting as though Mayank was gone. Because if he was truly gone, then why did everything still feel the same?

His room was still upstairs. His books were still there. His clothes were still there. His shoes still sat beside the entrance exactly where he had left them before his trip.

The world looked unchanged. Only people kept insisting it wasn't.

Tara wandered through the house without any destination in mind.

Nobody stopped her. Nobody had the energy to.

As she passed the dining room, her steps slowed.

The large table stood empty now.

A few days ago, it had been crowded with visitors.

Before that, it had been crowded with family. Before that... Tara's gaze landed on a chair.

And immediately moved away.

Not because the chair was special. Not because it contained memories. Simply because it was empty. And it wasn't supposed to be.

For a strange moment, anger flared inside her chest.

At Mayank. At the train. At the people who kept saying it was fate. At Krishna Ji. At everyone.

How could they expect her to accept something so ridiculous?

A week ago, she had been annoyed because he was late.

Now they wanted her to believe he would never come home again.

The thought was absurd. Completely absurd. So absurd that her mind rejected it every single time it appeared.

Perhaps that was why she hadn't cried.

Everyone else had. Her mother. Her father. Even servants who had watched Mayank grow up.

Yet Tara remained dry-eyed.

Not because she was strong. Not because she was brave.

But because somewhere inside her, a stubborn thirteen-year-old girl was still waiting for the front gate to open.

Still waiting to hear familiar footsteps in the corridor. Still waiting for someone to tell her that there had been a mistake. That they had all panicked for nothing. That Mayank had finally come home.

The worst part was that a tiny piece of her still believed it. And until that belief disappeared, the tears refused to come.

The house eventually surrendered to the night.