Fitoor | ✓

00 | Shoonya

A/N-  Hey loves, welcome to the prologue of Fitoor- my first attempt at writing a book based in India. It is a tad tough for me to get things right here but i'll try my level best. For all my non-Indian readers, please do not hesitate to ask questions, if you have any. I more than welcome any sort of constructive criticism because I really do want to get better. Also, this chapter is dedicated to Sim (nonfictionsim) who is such an inspiring writer, don't forget to check him out if you haven't already!  

Much love, Aashix

00 | Shoonya | P R O LO G U E

In stark darkness, in the midst of the whitest snow, a breathless body lay drenching the white beneath it with the crimson blood it bled.

Tara knew it was her husband. She'd recognize him anywhere, alive or dead. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. They never taught what you were supposed to do when your husband died. Were you supposed to rush to his body and take his soulless body in your arms? Or were you supposed to fall and cry your eyes out? Or were you supposed to go in denial and pretend this wasn't real?

Because she really didn't know.

She slowly retreated into the house. She realised she couldn't do either of those things. She was the wife of an army officer, she held more responsibility than others. She called up the group commander under whom her husband was designated.

"Hello?" the voice answered.

Nothing.

"Hello, may I know who is calling."

Nothing.

"Is someone there?"

One breath.

"Who's this?"

"Tara. It's Tara." She murmured slowly. Finally.

"Tara? What's wrong?" The commander asked worriedly.

"Kartavya. His body."

"What?"

"Outside our house." She said, and put off the phone with her trembling hands. Then she fell, and the tears finally came. She didn't know how long she had been sitting near the phone silently crying when the army officials came knocking on the door.

Everything was a blur after that. Kartavya, her husband had been dead since thirteen hours and someone had dumped his body in front of their house late in the night under the snow when everyone was inside their houses. When no one would hear cruel footsteps. When no one would listen to the murderous breaths. 

Other wives from the army came to their house to console her. Family was called and Tara and the body of her dead husband were carried to Rajasthan from Kashmir. Rajasthan, it's where they were both born. It's where they met; and fell in love and got married. It's were it all started.

It's where they cremated his body. Burnt it into ashes.

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