TWO
Advik
This didn’t happen.
This didnotjust happen.
Did it?
I’m still gasping, borderline hyperventilating, when I bolt out the door. No shoes, no phone, still in my pajamas. I don’t care.
I reach the street just in time to catch a glimpse of her car disappearing around the bend.
Gone.
I stand there, shaking, adrenaline the only thing holding me upright. I know she doesn’t answer texts or calls while driving, so I wait. Thirty excruciating minutes. The longest goddamn half hour of my life.
I don’t make another coffee. I microwave the one she left me like an idiot—burnt, bitter, awful. Butshemade it. So I drink every drop. Stupid, really.
Then I start.
Calls.
Texts.
More calls.
Nothing. No response.
WhatsApp shows her number is no longer available. No last seen. No double ticks.
She doesn’t have an iPhone. No iMessage.
I try a regular SMS. It fails.
What the actual fuck?
I try calling again, and again—and all I get is dead silence.
My skin starts crawling with every worst-case scenario imaginable.
Who do I even call in this situation?
She doesn’t have family. Raised in an orphanage from the age of fifteen. I barely know her coworkers—just a few nicknames she’s dropped here and there.
Panic claws at my chest. Feeling helpless in my knowledge of her.
More than two hours have passed.
Finally, I give in and call my dad.
“Viko! Beta, I was just—”
“Dad, do you have Pratham uncle’s number?” I cut in, trying to sound normal but failing miserably.
Pratham uncle. DGP. Head of the police. He’d know if something happened.
But calling him over a breakup? Even I know that’s insane.
