What is the question? │✔

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"Why?"

The question was out in the air.

He stared at the night sky searching for his answers. The clouds frowned at him. The guilty is asking questions, they mused. But what they had still not learned was how they were not the ones to declare one guilty.

"Why?"

He rasped out, the alcohol working its magic. But he was an experienced drinker, it would definitely take him another bottle to get knocked out. And at present, he only had a half-filled one next to him.

Memories are meant to fade. Clearly, they don't. An echo of the very same question he asked right now, was shrieking at him in the past. Even she had asked him.

"Why Neel? Why should I agree to your proposal?"

"Why not, Amrita?"

"You are the person I would trust my life with! The first and the only one who would get to know what would be running on my mind. Every idea, every thought, every opinion! And that means that you are not just anyone for me Neel! You are the person who knows me better than myself, but is that enough to spend our lives together?"

"Won't you prefer to spend your life with a person who understands you, rather than 'hoping' for a stranger to understand you, Amrita?"

And that was their story. Despite whatever happened afterward, Indroneel never regretted his decision. Never. She was the right woman for him and till date, he was sure of that. She had asked him whether he would keep her the happiest woman alive. And if her happiness meant consenting with her wishes, then that's what he had done.

Even when he got to know about her affair.

Even then.

Sighing he surveyed the photographs again. Angling them and examining them from every possible direction, his eyes stuck to the back of the photographs. They were blank. Or that's what he thought till the faded words reappeared on the surface.

"Her eyes shall put burning embers to shame,

Amrita, she says is her name."

— B. M.

The letters were all very pointy, he noted. The beauty of the lines taken away by the scrawny handwriting. Of course, not that he would appreciate them at any cost. After all, he was the very man to whom he lost his best friend. The initials were bold, the pressure applied unnecessarily. It showed that the person was authoritative, then how come she fell for him?

One of the leading industrialists of their city, the heir of the Aashiyana Manor, and also the person who owned the whole of the West Port of their city. Bipin Mukherjee was a well-known man. Let it be their city or their state. A very private person. Only three times in his entire life was he mentioned in the newspaper or in the media.