Beginning of The End

IV

*five hundred forty days later*

He was sat on the floor, staring off into space as he let the picture rest down right beside his hands, the two quite not touching each other. The wooden frame felt too heavy for him to hold, he had no courage to even touch that now.

He could not believe what had happened.

His best friend, his loudest cheerleader, the one person who believed in him blindly, even when he thought he was done, the woman who had backed him ferociously throughout his life was gone. It felt like someone had snatched the only lifeline he had.

How was he supposed to cope with that?

They had just talked the day before, she was going to come and meet him in a few days. He still remembered the excitement in her voice when she had told him about the new recipe that she had just learned. He had seen her looking genuinely happy after such a long time.

His eyes burned as he looked back at the past year, just seeing how little time had they spent together. If only he knew that these were the last days he could have had with her- but what could he have done even if he did know, Virat thought bitterly, silently lamenting at his helplessness.

Almost involuntarily, his mind went back to the cremation, the way he had held his brother for support as he watched the fire swallow her whole. He had barely shed a drop of a tear there, not because he wanted to seem strong or anything as such.

But because he knew that a piece of his heart had been torn out and that void could never be filled.

She had been the one to support him, encourage him when he was at his lowest point. She had been the one to stand strong when he wanted to give up. After everything that had happened she could have just told him- Virat, I cannot take this anymore. Stop this and come back home.

She could have told him once and he would have left everything behind. She knew he would have done that. But she never said anything. Instead, she stood with him, cheering for him the loudest.

It felt like he was losing everyone now. Everything was just slipping right through his fingers and he could do nothing but stand by and watch.

Before his mind drifted to the dark place he had been desperately trying to avoid, his nephew, Aarav came running inside the room.

"Papa is calling you to meet someone chachu." He told him in a small voice, visibly hesitating to talk to his uncle and that stung his heart. He knew had been quite unlike himself for the past year and it was only a matter of time before everyone figured it out. And Aarav was one smart kid, Virat thought as he tried to smile at him.

"Come here." Virat motioned for him to come over and Aarav instantly melted against him, happy to be in the familiar embrace once again. Virat's arms wrapped around him instinctively, a protective feeling rising in his chest.

He saw the photo frame on the ground and cautiously picked it up, looking at it in a wounded silence. "She won't come back now, will she?" He asked in a dull voice, his bony little fingers pressing against the glass and Virat felt his throat closing with tears.

But he didn't have the strength to cry, not in front of this child who had to understand a loss so huge at such a small age. So he sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head timidly.

"She won't." He finally admitted, to himself and Aarav both. As much as the words made him die from within he knew the reality could not be avoided for long.