I still forgot her.
And that’s the truth.
Because I let myself slip. For just a moment. And I didn’t do that just once in my life. I did it thrice.
Once with Khushi, my sister, and then again with... Gree.My Gree.Then again with Khushi Joshi. The little girl who thought I was her savior. Iwasn’t.
They all fucking died, didn’t they?
“Have you ever talked about this with Vikram?” Dr. Reza’s voice cuts in gently, never forceful. Just a question. A nudge.
I let out a slow breath and rub the side of my neck. “No. He never mentions her. Not once in all these years. I don’t think... it was something he actively thought about.”
Dr. Reza nods thoughtfully, then tilts his head. “Butyoudon’t talk about her either. Not to him. Not to anyone. And yet here you are... Could you be wrong about Vikram? Maybe... he remembers more than you think.”
That idea doesn’t sit right. Or maybe it sitstooright, and I don’t want to look at it. I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek, thinking.
“But he wasn’t to blame,” I say. “He wasn’t even home. He was already out, cycling with his friend. I was the one who had her. It was on me.”
Reza leans forward slightly. “And do you blame him for not being there for Khushi?”
I look up, startled. “No!” The word comes out more forceful than I mean it to. “God, no. He was just a kid. He was out riding his bike. Enjoying his damn Saturday like a normal eight-year-old. He didn’t know.”
Silence laps between us. Heavy but not suffocating. Just enough room for the next realization to land.
“Then if Vikram isn’t to blame,” Reza says softly, “why areyou?”
I blink.
I blink again.
My jaw slackens just a little.
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. No clever retort. No defensiveness. Just air.
Because the logic is there. Clean. Unflinching. And still, it feels like swallowing glass.
I drop my head into my hands. Let the weight of that question settle.
I’ve been here before. Sitting with the same ache in my chest. A different name on my lips, but the exact same question chewing at my insides.
If Greesha had actually died, would I have blamed anyone but me? I blamed myself for both Khushis, didn’t I?
Because I was the one who killed my own sister. Who didn’t take proper care of a four-month-old.
Because I was the one who let Gree go first. Who made her doubt her place in my life. Who thought I had time.
Then I was the one who didn’t make sure Khushi Joshi was taken care off. Even when I saw things not lining up.
Who got depressed instead of asking questions. Who stopped reaching out because the grief had teeth and I let it bite first. And then I... gave up. I couldn’t save anyone.
I link the three like a sick timeline etched in guilt:
Khushi.
Greesha.
Khushi Joshi.
