IN SEARCH OF ANSWER

 

CHAPTER 1

THE BREAKUP AT KANTIPUR CAFE

"I am fed up with you. All you do is get angry every single moment. You look for an excuse to fight over the smallest things. If a call comes, you’re suspicious; if I don’t call, you’re suspicious; if I don’t pick up, you’re suspicious. If I talk to anyone, you suspect me and pick a fight. I can’t do anything of my own will. Your whims run my life, and I hate it." Neha said.

"Look at yourself. Look at your friends. They’ve already built their lives while you’re stuck exactly where you were. We’ve been in this relationship for five years, but you haven’t made an effort to do anything. You can’t stick to one place. Our relationship has broken many times before, but I decided to give you a chance every time. Yet, no change came to you. I want to be away from you."

"I don’t have any great desire to stay in this relationship with you either," I replied. "You think you're so special. Just because you work in a bank, you think you’re something else. In your eyes, I’m just useless. You were never happy with me. I’ve also endured you all these years. You always dominate me. You look down on me in front of your friends. I’m not happy with you either, so I can’t stay with you."

Then, we both walked out of Kantipur Cafe in New Baneshwor. From the cafe, I went straight to John house, which was also in New Baneshwor. John has been my friend since childhood. He knew everything about me; I shared everything with him. I rang the bell several times. Only after a long while did John open the door.

"Oh, it’s you?"

"Who else did you think it would be?"

"I was expecting a pretty girl."

"Shut up," I said, walking inside and sitting on the sofa. John was there, and he sat down too. He looked at me and asked, "What happened to you today?"

"What would happen?"

"Tell me, what happened?"

"Neha and I broke up."

John laughed out loud. Seeing him laugh, I said, "You’re laughing at a time like this?"

John stopped laughing. I leaned back into the sofa, crossing my arms like a judge who had already heard the closing arguments.

"Look," John said, his voice dropping the mockery for a second. "I'm not laughing because it's funny that you're hurting. I'm laughing because you're both stuck in a loop. You go to Baneshwor, you fight about the same things—her job at the bank, your lack of a steady path, the 'suspicion'—and then you come here acting like the world ended."

He pointed a finger at me.

"The truth? You’re addicted to the chaos. You say she dominates you, but you let her because it’s easier than actually deciding what you want to do with your life. And she stays because she’s invested five years of 'sunk cost' into a version of you that doesn't exist anymore. You're both clinging to who you were during your undergraduate days in a city that’s moved on."

John sighed, picking up his phone and tossing it onto the table.

"You're my best friend, so I'll tell you what you don't want to hear: Neha isn't the villain for wanting stability, and you aren't the villain for not being a 'banker type.' But you’re both villains for dragging this out for five years when you clearly don't respect each other anymore. If you go back to her tomorrow, you’re just signing up for another year of misery."

He looked me dead in the eye. "So, are we actually mourning a breakup, or are we just waiting for her to text so you can go back to the drama?"

The silence that followed was louder than our argument at the cafe. Samir had a way of stripping away the romantic tragedy and leaving only the uncomfortable truth. 

CHAPTER 2

THE NEW BEGINNING

I completed my Master’s degree in July 2014. From the moment I started my Master’s thesis, I began applying for jobs in various places, but I couldn't land one. I took out the frustration of my unemployment on many people and situations. It’s not that I didn’t try to go to America in 2014, but that didn’t work out either; I was rejected right at the interview stage.

After much effort, I finally landed a job in 2016 at an NGO. It was a human rights organization. I had studied journalism, and since human rights was part of our curriculum, the field matched my background. I was assigned to the Migration department.

I was overjoyed when I got this job. My heart was full of hope and excitement. I started working with the ambition to work hard and excel. I still remember my first day and the days that followed.

It was Friday, January 1, 2016. I rushed home from the gym, arriving at 7:05 AM. I hurriedly ate breakfast and rushed to get to the office. I caught a microbus from Dhumbarahi at 8:00 AM to get to Ekantakuna. I had to take two microbuses—one from Dhumbarahi to Bhrikuti Mandap, and another to Jawalakhel. From Jawalakhel, it was a five-minute walk.

I reached the office at 8:50 AM, but the outer gate was closed. I waited outside, and ten minutes later, I saw a lady arrive. Even though we were strangers, we exchanged smiles. She opened the gate, and we both went inside. After a while, she introduced herself as Yamuna Shakya. She asked me to wait in the meeting hall.

I sat there in the hall. Half an hour later, a lady took me to the office of the General Secretary, whose name was Binayak Pokharel. He explained everything about the work. My position was Program Assistant. My workspace was at the very beginning of the third floor. In my room, Deepak K.C. and Simrika Limbu were working; we were all in the same department. That afternoon, I was introduced to everyone, though I didn't meet the entire staff that day. The Gender Equality and Social Inclusion (GESI) team was away in Pokhara for work and wasn't in the office.

CHAPTER 3

THE ARRIVAL OF AARTI

It was two weeks later. It was a Friday morning, around 9:00 AM. Deepak ji and I were in the meeting hall, reading the newspapers. Slowly, our colleagues began to arrive. We were all sitting there, chatting and browsing the news. Around 9:30 AM, someone entered the hall.

"Hi!" she said as she walked in. Everyone responded with a "Hi." I hadn't been introduced to her yet. As she walked further into the room, I found myself staring, completely transfixed. Looking at her face reminded me of a film actress; she bore a striking resemblance to the Hindi film star Aishwarya Rai. Her eyes and facial features were just like hers. Beyond that, she was quite tall—she had the look of a professional model. I just sat there, lost in a daze, gazing at her.

After she finished greeting everyone, Deepak ji spoke up. "Aarti, this is Amit Dahal. He is a new staff member; he joined us recently. He works in the Migration department."

She said "Hi" to me, and I replied in kind. That is how we were introduced. Her name was Aarti Shrestha. She worked in the Gender Equality and Social Inclusion (GESI) department, and her role also involved Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E).

Aarti had returned to the office after two weeks. Everyone urged her to share her experiences from Pokhara, so she told a fun story that had happened to her:

"It happened while I was returning to Kathmandu from Pokhara," she began. "I was standing in the microbus because it was crowded. Then, a foreign guy boarded—tall, with green eyes. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. I immediately developed a crush on him. After a while, we both found seats—and we ended up sitting right next to each other! I was so happy. After a moment, I broke the silence and said, 'I am Aarti.'"

"'Hi. I am John,' he replied."

"'Where are you from?' I asked in English."

"'I am from the UK,' he said, speaking in fluent Nepali. I was shocked."

"'Oh, you speak Nepali!'"

"'Yes, I can speak Nepali. I travel to Nepal often, so I learned the language.'"

"'What do you do?'"

"'I work in IT. And you?'"

"'I work in a human rights office.'"

"'That’s good.'"

"'How many times have you been to Nepal?'"

"'Many times now.'"

"'It seems you really like Nepal.'"

"'Yes, I love Nepal. Besides, my girlfriend is here. She is Nepali. We are getting married in two weeks.'"

"My heart sank," Aarti continued. "He was so handsome. Anyone could fall for him. I thought, that girl is so lucky. We chatted for a while, and I got to know him. During our conversation, he said, 'You are very beautiful and you speak so well. Your boyfriend must be a lucky man.'"

"I smiled and said, 'I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not as lucky as your fiancée.'"

"'Huh? Are you serious?' he asked.

"'Yes, I really don't have anyone.' But John didn't seem to believe me.

We were all listening to her story intently—especially me. I was secretly thrilled to hear that she didn't have a boyfriend. For me, it was truly love at first sight. I felt like I wanted to keep looking at her forever, to keep listening to her voice. I wanted to lose myself in her eyes; they were so beautiful. 

CHAPTER 4

THE MAGIC OF AARTI

After I started working at this office, I began to change. In the previous places I had worked, I used to talk a lot and was quite a carefree, flighty person. My current colleagues thought of me as someone serious, but that wasn't my true nature. While it wasn't hard for me to blend into new environments, since coming to this office, I had mostly remained grave and quiet. This was all because of Aarti’s "magic."

At first, I thought my feelings for Aarti were just a simple attraction. I didn't trust my own heart yet, so I decided to give it some time.

As time passed, no matter how much I tried to distance myself from Aarti, I couldn't. The more I tried to stay away, the more I wanted to be near her. Perhaps, for the first time in my life, I was experiencing true love. I had never felt anything like this before; maybe I never truly understood the meaning of love until now. All the relationships I’d had in the past were merely attractions—they weren't love.

Gradually, I began to settle into the office environment. The atmosphere was pleasant, and I started teasing Aarti. I would often go to her cabin just to talk to her. I’d annoy her on purpose. At first, she took it normally. I didn't even realize what was happening to me whenever I saw her; I just felt a sudden urge to tease her and talk to her as much as possible. Just seeing her made my heart happy.

I wasn't the only one teasing her at the office, though. There was another older colleague (Dai) who teased her even more than I did. I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. I wished he wouldn't come near her. Aarti would say that her "stars didn't align" with him, yet she talked to him the most. It baffled me and made me angry. I’d think to myself, Why is she talking so much to someone she doesn't get along with? Why is she smiling and talking so nicely to him? I couldn't compose myself when I thought about these things. I even started to suspect they were having an affair, but I later found out that he already had a girlfriend. Only then did my heart find peace. 

CHAPTER 5

THE SHATTERED DREAM

I kept trying to get closer and closer to Aarti. One day, I was teasing her much more than necessary. Aarti was clearly not enjoying it, but I failed to read her cues or understand her body language. After lunch at 12:30 PM, everyone headed back to their respective cubicles. As I was about to go to mine, Aarti called out to me.

"I’d like to have a word with you," she said.

"Sure," I replied.

My heart leaped with joy. I thought to myself, this is it—the perfect moment to tell her how I feel. We went up to the roof. I was beaming. Once we were there, Aarti turned to me.

"Look," she began.

"I’m looking," I said playfully.

"Please, don't joke around. I am not in the mood for games."

"Tell me," I said, "why are we up here on the roof?"

"From now on, please do not tease me," she said firmly. "I don’t like it when you joke with me. Why are you constantly targeting me with your teasing? The way you go about it... I just don't appreciate it. No one is in the mood to joke all the time. Sometimes people have bad days. More importantly, I have work to do, and you are a distraction. Everyone else is busy with their tasks, but you seem to have nothing better to do than tease people. Please, don't do it again. I don't like it. And beyond that, we aren't even that close."

With that, she turned and left the roof to go back to her cubicle. I stood there, frozen like a statue, watching her walk away. More than anything, my heart began to ache, and tears welled up in my eyes. My joy instantly turned into deep sorrow. I felt like a broken soul. Before I could even express the feelings in my heart, my love story had come to an end.

I retreated from the rooftop, not to his desk, but to the small washroom at the end of the hall. I splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the sting of Aarti's words. "Static." "Distraction." "Not even that close." The words looped in his head like a broken record.

I eventually sat at his desk, staring at the migration data on the screen. The numbers blurred. For the first time since starting this job, the office felt cold.

That evening, I didn't go straight home. I found himself back at John’s place in New Baneshwor. I sat on the same sofa where, just a short while ago, I had lamented his breakup with Neha.

John looked at me, noticing the heavy silence. "What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"It’s over, John," I said, his voice hollow. "Before it even started."

"Aarti?" John guessed, setting his laptop aside.

I nodded. "She told me to stop. She said I’m a distraction and that we aren't even close. I thought... I thought there was a spark. I thought the teasing was a bridge. But I was just a nuisance to her."

John did not laugh this time. He sighed and leaned forward. "Listen, Amit. You went from one extreme to another. With Neha, you were 'stagnant' and 'suffocating.' With Aarti, you tried to be this high-energy, playful guy to hide how much you were hurting. You weren't being yourself; you were being a character in a movie you thought she’d like."

"I just wanted her to notice me," I whispered.

"She noticed you," John countered. "But she noticed the guy who wasn't working. In a place like that NGO, where everyone is trying to prove their worth, you made yourself look like you didn't care about the mission. Aarti is a professional, Amit. If you want her respect, you have to show her you’re a professional too."

I looked at my hands. The realization was bitter. I had been so focused on the "magic" of her eyes that he forgot she was a person with her own pressures, deadlines, and bad days.

"So, what do I do?" I asked.

"You go back tomorrow," Samir said firmly. "You don't tease her. You don't go to her cabin. You do your work. You become the 'serious' guy they thought you were at the beginning. Not for her, but for you. Let the dust settle. If there’s any chance for a real connection, it won't be built on jokes—it’ll be built on mutual respect."

CHAPTER 6

THE LETTER AND THE LONG WAIT

I tried everything to appease Aarti. Sometimes I would leave flowers for her; other times, I’d leave chocolates on her desk. But she accepted neither. A storm began to brew in my heart, and I grew restless. Seeing her refuse to speak to me made me feel like I had committed a grave crime. Unable to find peace, I decided to write her an apology letter.

Dear Aarti,

I know you are angry with me, and for that, I sincerely apologize. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

People used to say they fell in love at first sight, but I never believed them. I used to think, How can someone fall in love without even knowing the other person? I thought it was nonsense. But the moment I saw you for the first time, I fell for you. It was love at first sight, and suddenly, I became a believer.

Every day, I started thinking only of you. At first, I thought it might be an illusion, but it wasn't. The more you spoke and smiled at me, the more I was drawn to you. Love began to bloom in my heart. I longed to talk to you; I longed to be near you.

But sadly, my love story ended before it even truly began. When you asked to speak on the roof, I thought, This is it—the perfect time to propose. My heart was full of joy, but that happiness didn't last long.

I understand now that you don't like my teasing, as I realize I did it far too much. I shouldn't have done that. But when you said we "weren't intimate," it chilled my heart. I thought if we just gave it some time, that intimacy would grow. Why the rush?

Aarti, I love you. Just give it some time, and I believe you will love me too. More than love, I need your friendship. I hope you will reach out and take my hand in friendship. I trust that you will forgive me.

                                                                                    Your new friend

                                                                                Amit Dahal

After writing the letter, I felt a sense of peace, but anxiety soon followed. What if she didn't read it? What if she rejected my friendship? My mind was flooded with questions and my heart began to race, but I told myself everything would be okay. I decided to leave it on her desk the next day.

The next morning, Aarti wasn't in her cubicle. I placed the letter near her computer and hurried out. A glimmer of hope arose that she might forgive me. I went back to my own desk and tried to work, but my focus was entirely on her. I kept wondering when she would read it, what her reaction would be, and I felt desperate for an answer.

Two days passed without a word. I kept glancing at her cubicle, seeing the letter exactly where I had left it. My heart sank, and tears began to fall. I feared Aarti would never forgive me. There was no one at the office I could confide in. I counted down the minutes until 5:00 PM so I could call my closest friend.

I reached home at 6:30 PM and, without even changing my clothes, I called John and poured my heart out. After listening to everything, John said, "You aren't a bad person. The fact that you apologized for what you did is enough. Just wait for the right time. Everything will be okay."

He told me to wait for the right time, I agreed. I decided to leave it to fate, hoping time would heal everything.

After a while, she did start talking to me again, though it wasn't like before. I don't know if she ever actually read that letter, but she was speaking to me, and that was enough to make me happy. She only spoke when it was related to work, but it was a start.

I had changed a lot, too. I stopped teasing her constantly and wasn't as "flighty" as I used to be. I began to take my life and my career seriously. Perhaps that is why Aarti started talking to me again. I still didn't know if love was blooming in her heart for me, but I remained patient, waiting for the right moment.

CHAPTER 7

THE BITTER TASTE OF SWEET SUCCESS

Eleven months had passed since I started working at the office. We were all busy with our usual tasks. It was the 19th of Kartik, 2073 (November 4, 2016). The Dashain and Tihar festivals had ended, and the office was back in full swing. I was working in my cubicle when Aarti walked in, looking radiant with happiness. She had arrived at 10:00 AM carrying a box of ladoos.

My mind began to race with suspicion. She was holding sweets, but I had no idea why. After distributing them to everyone else, she finally came to my desk.

"Amit-ji, please, have a ladoo," she said.

"I’ll take one, but what’s the occasion?" I asked.

"My US visa got approved!"

"What?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I’m going there for my studies."

"Congratulations," I managed to say.

"Thank you."

With that, she returned to her cubicle. Tears began to well up in my eyes. I had been planning to finally propose to her, but now it seemed impossible. She was leaving for America in just a month and a half. My heart was thrown into turmoil. How could I confess my love now? My mind went blank. Ultimately, I decided to write another love letter, though I was terrified she might not read it. Even so, I chose to write.

Dear Aarti-ji,

I am so happy to hear that you are going to America. I am glad that you are building your future. But alongside that joy, I am also deeply saddened. I don’t know if it is necessary for me to write this, but I simply cannot keep these feelings bottled up inside anymore.

Aarti, I have started to truly love you. I don’t know what is in your heart regarding me, but your image is permanently etched in my mind.

I wrote you a letter once before, but I never received an answer. I eventually stopped grieving over the lack of a response, believing that time would heal everything. I left it all to fate. Because of that, I became serious about my work and my life. I hoped that with time, love for me might bloom in your heart.

I hope you will take this in a positive way.

From the one who couldn't become your friend

Amit Dahal

*

It was a Tuesday, late in the afternoon. The office was quiet, save for the hum of the printer and the distant honking of Jawalakhel traffic. Aarti walked into’s my cubicle, not with a box of ladoos this time, but with a thick stack of folders.

"Amit-ji," she said, her voice soft. "I’m handing over my final M&E (Monitoring and Evaluation) files. Since your department handles the migration data, the Director wants you to cross-check these before I sign off."

I looked up, his heart doing that familiar, painful skip. "Of course. Sit down, Aarti. It might take a while."

She pulled up the guest chair—the same one John had told me to keep professional. For the next hour, we sat side-by-side. It was the "serious" she saw now: focused, diligent, and quiet. We spoke in the language of their profession—indicators, demographics, and outcomes. But beneath the talk of "humanitarian frameworks," there was a heavy, unspoken history.

"You've changed, Amit," Aarti said suddenly, breaking the professional trance. She wasn't looking at the papers; she was looking at me.

I paused, my pen hovering over a column of figures. "Have I?"

"You're... focused. You’re good at this. I remember when you first started, you were always so restless. Now, you’re the most reliable person in this hall."

I felt a bittersweet pang. I did it for you, I wanted to say. I became this person because you asked me to. Instead, I just nodded. "Life has a way of settling you down, I suppose."

"I'm glad," she whispered. She reached out, her hand momentarily brushing the edge of the report I was holding. "I was worried after that day on the roof. I thought I had been too harsh. But seeing you like this... I'm happy for you."

I reached into my drawer. My fingers touched the edge of the letter I had written a week ago. This was it. The final "work" was done. There were no more reports to check, no more data to verify.

"Aarti," I said, his voice trembling slightly. "Before you go to America, there’s one more 'document' I need you to evaluate. It’s not for the Director. It’s just for you."

I slowly slid the envelope across the desk, covering the migration report.

Aarti looked at the envelope, then back at me. The office lights flickered as the evening power cut began, leaving us in the dim, golden glow of the emergency backup.

"Is this... like the last one?" she asked softly.

"No," Amit replied, meeting her eyes with a courage he didn't know he possessed. "This one is the truth."

CHAPTER 8

THE FINAL FAREWELL

Time flew by, and the day for Aarti’s departure to America finally arrived. She had already submitted her resignation. Even after resigning, one is required to work for a short period, but as the month of Poush (December) began, her visits to the office became less frequent. She was busy with her final preparations for the move.

It was the 12th of Poush, 2073 (December 26, 2016). The office had organized a farewell program for her. She arrived at 12:30 PM. Seeing her brought a mix of joy and deep sorrow to my heart. I was happy because I got to see her one last time before she left, but I was devastated knowing that from tomorrow, Aarti would no longer be there. I wondered who I would tease or talk to once she was gone.

Our boss praised Aarti during the program. He spoke about how she was when she first joined and how much she had grown since. He noted how she had consistently performed well and wished her a bright future.

When it was her turn to speak, she became emotional. Her eyes welled up with tears. I still remember the words she said:

"Thank you, everyone. When I first joined, I had already told the directors that I would only be working for a short time. My US visa had been rejected once before, which is why I worked at this office for a year.

In the beginning, we were just a few colleagues, and now this organization has grown so much. I had the opportunity to learn from everyone. I got to know all of you, and through our work, some of you became very good friends. Now, leaving everyone behind feels painful. The things I’ve learned here will stay with me forever. Finally, I want to thank everyone for their support."

After her speech, the cake was cut. We all ate, and as a parting gift, we gave her a commemorative cup. While she was chatting with her friends, I went to the restroom and cried bitterly. I felt a profound sense of gloom that day; my heart was restless. There were so many questions in my mind that only Aarti could answer. I felt as though there were countless things left to say between us, but no time left to say them.

I couldn't bring myself to speak to her that day. We ate lunch together; she was smiling and happy. I just kept looking at her. I couldn't even eat properly. My eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't see them. After lunch, Aarti said her final goodbyes to everyone.

I couldn't work at all that day. My heart felt heavy. I remained lost in her memories, losing track of time until a colleague called out to me. When I checked the clock, it was already 6:00 PM. I finally gathered myself and left for home.

CHAPTER 9

CHASING ANSWERS ACROSS THE OCEAN

After Aarti left, I couldn't focus on my work at the office anymore. Her memory refused to leave my mind. Eventually, I decided to prepare for my own journey to America. I was terrified that I wouldn't get a visa, but to my immense joy, it was approved. My happiness wasn't just about the visa itself; it was the thought of finally meeting Aarti again. I needed answers. I still hadn't received a reply to my two letters.

I enrolled at Virginia International University for the August intake and secured a job as well. In June, I submitted my resignation. Although I had already completed a Master’s degree in Journalism, I was preparing to pursue another Master’s, this time in International Relations.

July 1, 2017, arrived—the day I was to fly to America. My flight was scheduled for 10:00 PM. I got everything ready. My parents were heartbroken, especially my mother. Her eyes were constantly filled with tears.

The clock struck 6:30 PM, signaling it was time to head to the airport. Before leaving the house, my father and mother put a tika on my forehead and gave me their blessings. Leaving them behind felt terrible, but I was going to America to find peace for my own heart.

We reached the airport around 7:00 PM and waited outside for a while. Since my father had experience traveling abroad, he explained the entire airport process to me beforehand. After fifteen minutes, I took my luggage on a trolley and headed inside. My parents kept their eyes on me. I looked back; they were watching me through the glass window. While I stood in line, I kept turning back until it was finally my turn. After finishing the visa formalities on the ground floor, I had to head upstairs. Before going up, I waved a final goodbye to my parents and watched them turn to leave. I completed the upstairs procedures and sat down to wait.

I had an hour and a half left. I pulled out a book to pass the time—Loo by Nayan Raj Pandey. I was reading, but my mind was entirely on Aarti. Her face seemed to appear on the very pages of the book I was holding. Lost in thoughts of her, I didn't even realize when it became 9:30 PM. Then, I boarded the plane. I stepped onto that aircraft filled with immense hope. After twenty-four hours, I reached America. I had finally arrived in Virginia.

CHAPTER TEN

THE LONELINESS OF VIRGINIA

It was August 2017. On Saturday, August 5th, the clock struck 9:30 PM. I was now living in Virginia, USA. At that moment, I was sitting in a local bar, nursing a beer. I was completely submerged in memories of Aarti; after all, I had come to this country solely for her. I lost track of how many beers I had downed in her memory. The bar was packed—people were drinking, laughing, and dancing. Yet, despite the crowd, I felt utterly alone. Unable to bear the noise, I walked out. Outside, I looked up at the stars and saw Aarti's face reflected in the night sky. I had followed her across the world, but I had no idea what her answer would be.

I had been in America for a month now. That first month had vanished in a blur of job hunting and searching for a room. More importantly, I had enrolled at Virginia International University—the same college where Aarti was studying. To be honest, I hadn't come here for the degree; I had come to find her. I knew where she lived, but I hadn't yet found the courage to go there directly. My mind was a constant loop of questions: How should I meet her? What should I say? I wanted to win her heart slowly this time. I didn't want to rush. I desperately needed a positive answer; I didn't even want to imagine what I would do if she rejected me again.

A cold breeze was blowing, matching the chill in my heart. As I sipped my beer, my past began to haunt me, and my eyes filled with tears. The bar was full of happy people and couples, which only intensified my sense of isolation. I wished I had a friend there. If Aarti had been with me, this night would have been vibrant and colorful, but she was nowhere near. Seeing the couples dancing made me ache with jealousy; in my mind, I replaced them with images of Aarti and me. I had so many questions and so little patience left, but I resolved to wait for the right moment.

I had drunk too much that night and wasn't entirely conscious of my surroundings. Lost in her memory, I didn't realize it was already 1:00 AM. I couldn't steady myself—not that I was ever truly steady these days, as the memory of Aarti was a stronger intoxicant than any beer.

I have no idea how I made it back to my room or when I fell asleep. I didn't even hear my alarm. I was in a deep, drunken stupor and only woke up much later. I reached for my phone on the table: 11:00 AM. I had slept in the same clothes I wore to the bar. Even as I woke, the hangover hadn't cleared. I took a long shower, made a cup of coffee, and stared out the window. The weather was beautiful—the sun was shining brightly. After my coffee, I sat down to eat breakfast.

Classes at Virginia International University were set to begin the following week. I was enrolled in the International Relations program. I had looked for a job within the university but couldn't find one, so I took a job as a cook in a hotel nearby. In America, no work was considered too small or too big.

I found myself counting the minutes until the week would pass. My desperation wasn't about starting university; it was about seeing her. I have no clue what her reaction will be when she finally sees me standing there.

CHAPTER 11

THE GRIND AND THE BROTHERHOOD

Today was my first day of university. I had set my alarm for 4:30 AM, even though class didn’t start until 8:00 AM. It wasn’t strictly necessary to wake up that early—my apartment was only a 15-minute walk from campus—but I was restless. I was in a desperate hurry to get there. I jumped into the shower and emerged twenty minutes later, ready for my new life.

Once dressed, I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment and logged into Facebook. I immediately checked Aarti’s profile. Since moving to the US, she hadn't posted many photos. She was never the type to post much anyway, but I still held onto the hope that I might see a glimpse of her new life.

By the time I finished scrolling, it was 7:00 AM. I had my usual breakfast of cornflakes and milk. At 7:15 AM, I made myself some tea, drank it, and headed to the university. I arrived fifteen minutes early and sat in my classroom. To be honest, I wasn't there for the education; I was there to be in Aarti's line of sight.

During the lecture, my attention was constantly drifting out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her passing by. I wasn't really focused on the studies. After class, I would go to the library and sit there for an hour. Under the pretext of studying, my eyes would constantly scan the room, searching for her. I didn't see her through the windows or in the library, but I didn't lose hope.

After my hour in the library, I would head to the hotel for work. My shift ran from 1:00 PM to 9:00 PM. At first, the job was incredibly difficult. Back in Nepal, I rarely cooked, so jumping into a professional kitchen here was a massive struggle.

In the beginning, I ruined a lot of food. I was scolded frequently because I didn't know how to cook properly. Standing in a kitchen for eight hours is exhausting. My official hours were 11:00 AM to 7:00 PM, but I often took overtime, staying until 9:00 PM. I didn't have much time to study at night, but I managed to squeeze it in, often staying up until midnight.

Slowly, I got used to the hotel work. I learned how to cook and started performing well. Through this job, I made two close friends, both of whom were Nepali: Jimmy Shrestha and Samir Sharma.

Jimmy Shrestha was from Chitwan but had lived in Kathmandu since childhood. He had completed his BBA from Himalaya White House College before coming to the US. He had received a scholarship for his MBA at Hampton University and had just finished his Master's. He had been in America for two and a half years and had been working at this hotel for six months. He had a touching story—his father passed away when he was young, and his mother had raised him with great hardship, working nights at a school to support him. He has a sister in the 12th grade, and he works hard to send money back home to them.

Samir Sharma was from Dharan. He had done his undergraduate degree in Journalism and came here on a partial scholarship. With a lot of struggle, he finished his Master's. He had also been in the US for two and a half years. He has an older sister who is married and a younger brother who is currently pursuing his Bachelor's degree. Jimmy and Samir had met at this hotel and had been working here almost since they arrived in America.

Within three months of working there, the two of them became my best friends. They had both come to America after seeing their friends move here. Initially, both felt disoriented—wondering where they had ended up—but now they were well-adjusted to the life. 

CHAPTER 12

WHISKEY, HEARTBREAK, AND BROTHERHOOD

It was Friday. I had invited both of them to my apartment after work since we had the next two days off. We finished our shifts early and headed over. By 10:00 PM, we were settled in, drinking whiskey.

"Man, this life is just strange," Jimmy remarked. Hearing him, Samir countered, "Why do you find life strange? I don't feel that way. Neither does Amit. Right, Amit?" Samir smiled and took a sip of the whiskey in his hand.

I stayed silent for a moment, sipping my own drink. I began to think—life is indeed strange. Things rarely turn out the way we plan. My own life was proof of that. If I had gotten what I wanted, I would have been so happy. I wouldn't have come to America. I wouldn't be wandering around searching for answers, and my heart wouldn't be this restless.

I was so lost in my own world that I momentarily forgot my friends were there. After watching me intently for a while, Samir spoke up. "Hey, where did you disappear to? What are you thinking? What world are you lost in? Or have you started dreaming about your girlfriend again?" He took another swig of his drink.

Jimmy added, "Come on, tell us your love story."

As the whiskey flowed, I poured my heart out. I became emotional as I narrated my journey. After hearing my story, Jimmy grew determined. "We will help you. We won't rest until we get you and Aarti married. Our mission now is to find her. We'll make sure you two meet. Your happiness is our happiness."

Samir nodded in agreement. I figured they were just talking because of the whiskey; I thought once the buzz wore off tomorrow, they wouldn't even remember what they had said. It's just the liquor talking, I thought. People say men lose their filters when they’re drunk, and looking at them, it seemed true. They probably didn't even know what they were saying, and I couldn't quite take it seriously.

"Brother, whatever help you need, just tell us. Don't worry. Think of us as your own. Think of me as your younger brother—I’m ready to give my life for you," Jimmy continued, his speech shifting from the formal timi to the intimate ta. Alcohol has a way of doing that. Both Jimmy and Samir were quite drunk by then. Samir was laughing uncontrollably at every little thing Jimmy said.

In truth, that night turned us into very close friends. The intoxication created a sense of intimacy. We learned more about each other. I discovered that night that both of them had also suffered failed loves. Samir had a two-year relationship end in failure, while Jimmy had lost an eight-year-long relationship. Samir’s had started back in school, but his partner eventually moved on to someone else.

Despite everything, I felt truly happy from the bottom of my heart after a long time. Perhaps because we were all going through similar pain, we were able to express our inner thoughts. I felt peaceful. I thought it would have been perfect if only Aarti were here with me.

We woke up late on Saturday morning. It was 10:30 AM. We had been drinking until 2:00 AM and had fallen asleep right there in the living room. Samir and I were on the floor, while Jimmy was on the sofa. Samir and I had slept in a tangled mess, with our legs over each other, while Jimmy was sprawled out—his body one way and his legs another. He looked like he hadn't moved an inch all night.

By the time I showered and made tea, my friends were still asleep. I spent some time lost on Facebook. I checked Aarti’s profile, as I did every day. I was mesmerized by her picture. She rarely posted anything, and honestly, neither did I. Perhaps because I was so focused on finding her, I didn't feel like writing anything else. My heart felt heavy and hollow. I just wanted her to post something—even just one photo.

As I was lost in her digital world, Samir woke up. He looked around confused, spotted me on the edge of the sofa, and asked, "What time is it, man?"

I checked my phone: 11:46 AM. Samir jumped up and headed for the bathroom. Jimmy, meanwhile, was still fast asleep. Of the three of us, Jimmy had drunk the most—about six to eight bottles of whiskey—and was completely out of it. I thought about waking him but decided to let him rest.

Samir and I started cooking. I had bought mutton today; it had been years since I’d had it, and today felt like the right occasion. As the pressure cooker whistled, the sound finally woke Jimmy. He freshened up, and we all ate together. We spent Saturday and Sunday enjoying ourselves, but by Sunday evening, they headed back to their own rooms. Once again, I was alone. My heart felt empty in an instant.

CHAPTER 13

THE BREAKTHROUGH

It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried, but I simply couldn’t find her. I spent countless hours waiting at the university, but our paths never crossed. I had started to think that Samir and Jimmy were all talk; they hadn’t shown a single shred of progress. While I hadn't lost all hope in them, my faith was certainly wavering. Six months passed like this. The first semester ended, and the university went on break. During that month off, I started picking up as much overtime as possible at the hotel.

One Friday, around 1:30 PM, I was in the kitchen organizing the dishes. Jimmy walked in, looking unusually radiant with a wide grin on his face.

"Man, you look incredibly happy today," I teased while stacking plates. "Did you finally find a girlfriend or what?"

"I found a girl," Jimmy replied, "but she’s not for me."

"Then who for?"

"I found out where Aarti is."

"What?" I froze. I couldn't believe my ears. I still found it hard to trust Jimmy’s word completely. I dropped what I was doing and turned to him. "What are you talking about? How did you find her? I can't believe this... I thought you just said those things back then because you were drunk."

"I was definitely drunk when I promised to help," Jimmy said, "but I’m not a liar. I remembered. You probably thought I’d forgotten, but I didn't. I went to the university and spoke with the administration. I even tracked down where she’s living. I’ve been following her daily routine—I know where she goes and when. She goes to college in the morning and then works at a restaurant until 9:00 PM."

Overcome with joy, I threw my arms around him in a hug. "You’ve helped me so much! You did what I couldn't do myself. I will never forget this favor. If you ever need my help, just ask."

I began to drift off into my own world again. Seeing me lost in thought, Jimmy teased, "Hey, what world are you in now? Lost in dreams of Aarti already? Seeing a beautiful future, aren't you?"

I only smiled. The day was no longer far off. Soon, I would finally face Aarti. I began to imagine what her answer might be.

CHAPTER 14

THE AGONY OF THE WAIT

Once I had the restaurant’s address, I started going there every day. I followed her. I tracked her from a distance, hidden. This routine went on for several days; I needed to understand her life—what time she went where, and who she was meeting.

I didn't want to meet her right away. I felt I wasn't "ready" yet. I decided I would only approach her once I was fully prepared. On the other hand, my dear friends were incredibly curious to know what was happening. Jimmy was actually getting annoyed that I hadn't met her yet, especially after he had put in so much effort to find her. I had to reassure him that I would face Aarti very soon.

It was a Sunday. Aarti usually worked on Sundays as well. I had started working Sundays too, but today I arranged for some time off and went to the restaurant where she worked. I arrived at 7:00 PM. I knew she usually finished her shift at 8:00 PM, so I sat there waiting for her.

I ordered a coffee and watched the world outside. It was freezing—the winter air was biting. Even though it was warm inside, I didn't want to sit in the back. I wanted to see her the moment she stepped through that gate. I sipped my coffee, my eyes darting between the entrance and my watch. It was 7:30 PM. Only thirty minutes left, but those thirty minutes felt like twelve hours. I checked my watch every five minutes, my patience wearing thin. I lost track of how many coffees I ordered.

Finally, the wait seemed to be over. It was 8:00 PM. My eyes were glued to the door, desperate for a glimpse of her. But 8:00 PM came and went, and she didn't appear. I sat there until the restaurant finally closed for the night. My anticipation turned into a bitter disappointment. Dejected, I left. I couldn't sleep at all that night; I was completely submerged in thoughts of her.

The next day, Monday, my mood was terrible. I went to the university, but I couldn't focus on a single word the professor said. After classes, I went to work. Because I was so upset, I didn't speak to Jimmy or Samir. I remained silent, focused only on my tasks. Jimmy kept watching me. As we were finishing our shift, he finally asked, "What’s wrong with you today? Why are you in such a bad mood?"

I stayed silent. Sensing that I didn't want to talk, he didn't push further. I kept working in my own world, and Jimmy stayed busy with his. My heart was restless.

The following Sunday, I finished my work and hurried back to her restaurant. I waited for a long time, but again, she didn't show up. She used to work every Sunday—why was she missing on the very days I came to find her? She couldn't possibly know I was looking for her. Doubts began to cloud my mind, and with those doubts came a deep sense of unease. Was I destined to never meet her?

My mind was racing with questions that kept me awake all night. The next day, I confessed everything to Jimmy. After listening to me, he said, "If she isn't there on Sunday, go on a different day. Why are you only fixated on Sundays?"

His advice made sense, but how could I ask the boss for another day off? Jimmy looked at me, and without me saying a word, he understood my dilemma. "Sunday is our overtime shift," he said. "Just make up an excuse for the boss. Don't panic. If we coordinate, we can make it work."

"But what if I don't find her even then?" I asked.

"Then forget her," Jimmy said flatly. "If you don't find her this week, consider that it was never written in your fate to be with her. Just call it a bad dream and move on."

It is easy to say those words, but incredibly hard to hear them. When Jimmy told me to "forget Aarti," tears began to fall from my eyes. Seeing this, Jimmy walked over to me. "Hey, sorry man... if I said something wrong," he said, and pulled me into a hug.

CHAPTER 15

THE ANSWER IN VIRGINIA

It was Friday. I left the hotel early and headed to the restaurant where Aarti worked. It was 7:00 PM. I sat there, waiting for her path to cross mine. Every five minutes, I glanced at my watch. I sat by the window, sipping coffee and watching the world outside until the clock struck 8:00. My gaze stayed fixed on the door. Around 8:30 PM, she finally stepped out, laughing with her friends.

Her hair was short and loose. She wore a lovely shade of deep red lipstick. She was dressed in a purple T-shirt and black pants. She was naturally beautiful; anything she wore suited her perfectly. I sat there, mesmerized. I was seeing her after one year and one month. As she began to wave goodbye to her friends and start her walk home, I stepped toward her. When I got close, she froze in shock. She went silent, her expression shifting instantly. Her face made it clear—she never expected me to be here.

"You? Here?" she asked, her voice thick with disbelief.

"Let’s sit and talk for a moment," I replied. We sat down. For a long while, there was only silence. She wouldn't look at me; her eyes wandered everywhere else, while I simply sat there, staring at her. It was obvious she didn't want to speak, but I had so many questions burning inside me.

"Are you... real?" I asked.

"I am."

"When are you going back to Nepal?"

"In two years. But... weren't you supposed to be in America?"

I stayed silent for a beat, wondering how to pour my heart out. I ordered two coffees to break the tension. Finally, I gathered my courage. "To be honest, I came to America just to find you. My mind is full of questions—all of them about you."

Aarti looked at me, stunned. "Questions about me? Has your habit of joking around still not left you? What kind of joke is this?"

Aarti always took everything I said as a joke. Perhaps it was my past behavior that made her think this way, but right now, I was in no mood for games. It made me angry that she couldn't see my seriousness.

"You think this is a joke?" I said, my voice rising with frustration. "I am not in the state of mind to joke, Aarti. This isn't the time."

"Your habit of constant teasing is so ingrained," she replied, "that I simply can't believe you when you're being grave."

I went silent again. Her behavior suggested I wasn't going to get the answers I wanted. Still, I pushed on. "Look, Aarti, I told you—I came to America for you. I love you. I proposed to you back in Nepal. I waited so long for an answer. When it never came, and you left for the US, I followed you here just to hear it.

I got here, but I didn't know how to find you. I enrolled in your university hoping we’d run into each other, but we never did. Later, I found out where you worked. I followed you for days. I tried to meet you twice before but failed; finally, on the third try, here we are."

Silence fell over us again. It was a heavy, suffocating quiet. We looked at each other; she looked angry. Finally, I spoke again. "I know you don't like some of my habits, but everyone has weaknesses. They can be changed. Since you stopped talking to me, I’ve changed a lot. My childishness is gone. The stress of your silence was too much. I was angry because I felt I had lost your friendship. I sent you those two letters and the lack of a response was another kind of torture. I know I’m the reason you stopped talking to me, and I’ve felt terrible about it every single day. I may not deserve your forgiveness, but I couldn't carry this weight anymore. That’s why I came."

Aarti remained quiet, contemplating her words. Finally, she spoke. "Look, first of all, I’m not angry with you, but I am not satisfied with you either."

When she said she wasn't angry, a spark of joy hit me. But then she continued. "Back then, the way you teased me... it made me furious. When you expressed your feelings, I didn't feel the need to respond because I never looked at you that way. I didn't want friendship or enmity with you. Love and friendship must come from the heart. My heart never accepted you. To me, you were just someone who entered my life for a moment and left. I don't think about you like that.

I am happy in my life. You should be happy in yours too. Don't cling to the past. Move on. You will find someone much better than me. Learn from your past and walk forward. If you stay stuck in one place, life doesn't progress, Amit-ji. Move on. Don't show this madness. If someone isn't interested in you, don't chase them."

Aarti looked at me one last time. I was speechless. I had expected a positive answer, but this rejection felt like a physical defect in my soul. Aarti stood up and left the restaurant. I sat there, watching her walk away. I got my answer, but I lost Aarti. The dream of having her remained just that—a dream. I have had many relationships, but I only ever loved Aarti from the depths of my soul, and I still do. I love her with a kind of madness.

The person I came to America for didn't accept me. I don't know how to pull myself together. How do I live without her? My eyes overflowed with tears. I couldn't compose myself. I sat in that restaurant for a long time before heading back to my room. I couldn't sleep that night. What is wrong with me? Am I really a bad person? My mind was a carousel of dark thoughts. Jimmy called me many times, but I didn't have the energy to pick up. Eventually, I turned my phone off. I didn't want to talk to anyone. My heart was broken like glass—shattered, but without a sound. My soul was weeping, and I had no one to tell. People can offer consolations, but until they go through it themselves, they truly have no idea.

 

CHAPTER 16

THE WRITER AND THE MADMAN

Saturday—a day off. I woke up late, having no idea when I finally drifted into sleep. My mood was still dark; the events of the previous night had left me utterly dejected. I felt aimless, wondering what I would do for a year in America without a purpose. For a moment, I thought about returning to Nepal, but I feared the shame—people would say I couldn't handle it or failed my studies. So, I resolved to stay for at least a year before heading back.

Around 11:00 AM, my doorbell rang. I hurried to open it and found Jimmy and Samir standing there. They rushed inside, Jimmy looking annoyed. "What’s wrong with your phone? It's off," he snapped. I wasn't in the mood to talk, but seeing my silence, he continued, "Your phone is never off. What happened? You look terrible. Did you meet Aarti?"

I poured out the whole story to them. They listened intently. When I finished, Jimmy tried to cheer me up. "Don't panic, man. You'll find other girls. Don't take the tension. We're going to a bar today to clear your head. What do you think?"

I agreed. We headed to a bar in Virginia, about a thirty-minute drive from my apartment. We arrived around 7:00 PM and ordered whiskey. Because of my foul mood, I preferred to be alone. I sat in a corner, nursing my drink and smoking, while my two friends sat on a sofa nearby. I was lost in my own world when a man came and sat next to me. He smiled, but I ignored him.

He had a whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. After a long drag, he asked, "How many years has it been since you came to America?"

"One year," I replied shortly, not interested in conversation. He kept observing me, studying my face. I didn't know why he was staring so intensely. Then he asked, "And your name?"

"Amit Dahal."

"I am Pujan Nepal," he said, extending his hand.

I was stunned for a moment. Pujan Nepal was a famous Nepali writer. I hadn't recognized his face at first. I reached out and shook his hand. "I had no idea you were a writer," I admitted.

We sat in silence for a while, drinking. Eventually, he spoke. "You look sad. More than sad—your eyes look like they are searching for an answer."

I put my glass down on the table and ended up telling him my entire story. "I’ve loved many people in my life," I concluded, "but never like her. I have this stubbornness about winning Aarti. I’ve become a 'mad lover.' I didn't care much about my past relationships, but if I don't get Aarti, I’ll die. If she can't be mine, I won't let her belong to anyone else. Deep down, I still feel like she will come back."

Pujan listened. "You love her deeply," he said. "But even after Aarti gave you her answer, you're still hoping she'll return. You received a negative response, yet you're still chasing it."

"At first, I wanted to go back to Nepal," I said. "But then I thought, if I become a 'good' person, she will come back and love me. Hope isn't dead yet. I love her more than myself. I’ll do anything to get her."

"You sound like a 'mad lover' from a Hindi film," Pujan remarked.

"I am a mad lover," I replied, "but I won't cross my limits to get my love."

Pujan went silent. We looked at each other in the quiet atmosphere of the bar. Finally, he asked, "What will you do now?"

"I’ll go wherever life leads me. I have no plans. My original plan was to take Aarti back to Nepal and start a life together. I still want that. I didn't get the answer I wanted, but time is powerful. I believe time heals everything. At first, I thought I'd leave if she said no, but my heart wouldn't let me. My mind refuses to accept her rejection. I still dream of winning her. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her. I can't forget her, Pujan-ji. Her image is the only thing in my mind."

I took a sip of whiskey and a drag of my cigarette. Pujan continued to study me. I didn't know what was going through his head—perhaps hearing my story sparked a desire in him to meet Aarti, to hear her side of things.

"Hearing my story probably makes you curious to meet her," I said.

Pujan remained silent, exhaling a long cloud of smoke. I asked him again, but he didn't seem to feel the need to answer. Finally, he said, "I don't know if I'll meet her or not. I don't see the necessity. Right now, I'm not in the mindset to write a story."

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray just as my friends approached. I introduced Samir and Jimmy to Pujan. Both were quite drunk and could barely speak.

Noticing my situation, Pujan checked his watch. "It’s 11:30 PM. I should go. Let’s meet again." He gave me his number, and I gave him mine. After he left, I wanted to head home too, but my friends refused to leave. They kept ordering more drinks while I drifted back into my own thoughts.

Eventually, I had to haul Samir and Jimmy off the floor and get them into the car. After paying the bill, I found them laughing loudly and talking to themselves in the backseat. I didn't pay them much attention; I didn't have the energy.

Back at the room, they both vomited—the result of too much whiskey. They didn't wake up until 1:00 PM the next day. I had been up since 8:30 AM, finishing my chores and drinking tea while watching TV. When Jimmy finally stumbled into the living room, he sat on the sofa for a moment before falling right back asleep. They spent the whole Sunday sleeping, while I spent it in front of the television.

Since that night, Pujan Nepal and I began meeting regularly. Sometimes he would come to my room, and other times I would visit him.

 

CHAPTER 17

THE OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP

It was two weeks later, a Friday. After finishing my work, I went back to the restaurant where Aarti worked. It was 6:30 PM, and I sat there waiting for her. I felt a deep need to speak with her just one more time.

I was sipping my coffee when she finished her shift and started to head out. She spotted me sitting there. After waving goodbye to her friends, she walked over to my table.

"You're here?" she asked.

"Hi. How are you? It’s been a while since I’ve been out to a restaurant, so I decided to come here."

She went silent. She knew perfectly well that I was there to see her, but she chose not to point it out.

"Actually, I came to see you."

"Was there something you needed?"

"I’m sorry," I said.

"For what?"

"For hurting your feelings. I showed a side of madness in my attempt to win you over. In that madness, I couldn't even manage to be your friend. I regret that. Now, I just want to be your friend."

Silence settled between us. She looked at me, and I looked at her. Aarti seemed uncomfortable, unsure of what to say. It was clear she didn't particularly want to be my friend either.

Sensing her hesitation, I added, "If you don't want to be my friend, that’s fine. I just wanted to reach out."

With that, I got up and left the restaurant. Aarti watched me go. That same evening, my friends and I went to the bar. Pujan joined us as well. We sat there, nursing our whiskeys and smoking cigarettes.

As he smoked, Jimmy turned to Pujan and asked, "When is your new book coming out?"

"Nothing has come to mind yet," Pujan replied. "I came to America specifically to write, but I have no idea what to write about."

"How can you say you don't have a story?"

"A story? Me?" Pujan looked surprised.

"Yes! You have a story right in front of you," Jimmy said. "You have the story of Amit and Aarti. Amit has already told you everything. Why don't you write Amit’s story?"

Both Pujan and I were stunned. I remained silent, but Pujan spoke up. "How could I write that? I would need permission from both Amit and Aarti. Besides, I'm not sure I want to write Amit's story."

I didn't say anything. Pujan and my friends went back to their drinks. Honestly, I didn't feel like having my story published either. There was nothing particularly special about it; to me, it felt like a cliché Hindi film.

After a while, I stepped out of the bar. I stood under the stars, sipping my whiskey and looking at the sky. A few moments later, Pujan came outside with his drink.

"Amit-ji, why did you come out here?"

"My mood soured," I replied.

"What happened?"

I told Pujan everything about my brief encounter with Aarti earlier that evening. After listening, Pujan said, "Amit-ji, forget Aarti. It’s better if you just let her go. By chasing her, you are wasting your time and ruining your future. Why don't you focus on your studies and your work? You only get one life—start thinking about yourself instead of living for someone else."

I remained silent, taking a long drag of my cigarette and watching the smoke vanish into the night air.

CHAPTER 18

THE OBSERVER BECOMES THE OBSERVED

"Hello," Pujan said over the phone.

"Hello," I replied.

"How are you? Where have you disappeared to lately?"

"I’m alright. I’ve just been so buried in work that I haven’t had a spare moment. What about you? What’s your news?"

"I’m doing fine as well. It’s been many days since we last met, so I called thinking we should catch up."

"I’m sorry, man. I don't have the time today. Let’s meet after next week, okay?"

"Sure. Next week it is, then."

"Was there something specific?" I asked.

"Nothing like that. I just felt like meeting up."

"I see."

I hung up. I had a mountain of work to get through—my university assignments were piling up, and I still had my shifts at the hotel. I had taken a lot of leave recently and had been leaving work early too often. Since I declined his invitation, he didn't push me and went about his own business. Truthfully, I was stressed; I had lost interest in working at the hotel and was already scouting for a job elsewhere.

Since I didn't go, Pujan went alone to the restaurant where Aarti worked. It was a Friday, around 7:30 PM. He sat there, sipping a cup of coffee and smoking. In that moment, Aarti walked past him. Pujan’s gaze locked onto her instantly. He was transfixed—completely losing himself in the sight of her. In all his life, he had never been the type to stare at women this way. He only snapped back to reality when his cigarette burned down and scorched his hand.

That night, Pujan couldn't sleep. He was submerged in thoughts of Aarti. From that day forward, he began visiting the restaurant every single day. He would watch her from a distance, completely mesmerized. Pujan wanted to speak to her but couldn't find the right words. He decided he would wait for the perfect moment.

CHAPTER 19

THE ENCOUNTER

Pujan had been visiting that same restaurant for a month now. He still hadn't gathered the courage to speak to her. He didn't even know her name yet, nor did he know anything about her past. He was simply content watching her from a distance, mesmerized. He tried many times to initiate a conversation, but something—he didn't know what—kept holding him back.

One day, Pujan was at the restaurant with a copy of Subin Bhattarai’s Monsoon in his hand. (I personally like Subin's writing style). As he was reading, Aarti approached him.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"What can I get for you?"

"A cup of white coffee, please."

"Sure."

Ten minutes later, Aarti brought his order and sat down briefly near him. Pujan looked at her for a moment.

"Are you from Nepal?" she asked.

"Yes. You too?"

"Yes."

"And your name?" Pujan asked.

"Aarti Shrestha."

Hearing her name, Pujan froze in shock. This was the name he had heard from me countless times.

"And how many years has it been since you came to America?" Pujan asked, trying to keep his composure.

"I arrived in December 2016. But... why do you ask?"

"Actually, I’ve only been in America for a few months. I was wondering if you might be able to show me around some places."

She smiled. After her smile, she replied, "I’d like that, but in exchange, you have to give me some Nepali novels to read."

Pujan agreed. After that, she went back to her work. Doubts began to swirl in Pujan’s mind. Is this the same Aarti? The one Amit loves? He desperately needed to know the truth, but he began to plot how he would bring up the subject without revealing his connection to me.

CHAPTER 20

A SATURDAY IN D.C.

It was two weeks later, a Saturday. Aarti took Pujan to Washington, D.C., to show him around. Pujan had never felt this happy before; being by Aarti's side filled him with immense joy. After exploring the city, Pujan said, "I'm hungry. Is there a place to eat nearby?"

"There is," Aarti replied. "Have you had enough sightseeing for today?"

"Not yet. Can we go somewhere else close by after we eat?"

Aarti easily agreed. They headed to a nearby restaurant, which was packed because it was the weekend. They scanned the room for a seat, found one, and sat down. Pujan took a sip of water from the glass on the table and began ordering food.

Once the order was placed, Pujan asked, "So, how are you liking America so far?"

"At first, I felt lost—like, 'where have I ended up?'" she admitted. "I missed home terribly, and I still do. But I’ve grown used to it now. Those early days were hard. Nepal and America felt so different; even the way people work is completely different."

"Do you plan on going back to Nepal, or not?"

Aarti went silent for a moment. Breaking the quiet, Pujan prompted, "You've gone silent?"

"I want to go back," she sighed, "but then I wonder what I’d do there. Here in America, work is respected. In Nepal, there isn’t that same dignity of labor."

It was a valid point. In Nepal, there is little respect for various types of work. Furthermore, with so many youths unemployed and frustrated, it’s no wonder they flock abroad.

Just then, some of their order arrived—momo, a Nepali favorite, though it never quite tastes as good as it does back home. While eating, Pujan asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"You are very beautiful—you look like a film actress. Has no one ever proposed to you?"

Aarti smiled, finished the momo on her plate, and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think you have a boyfriend who loves you very much."

She smiled again and continued eating. Just then, the chicken chilly arrived—one of Pujan’s favorite dishes. He pulled the plate closer, making Aarti laugh. After a few bites, Pujan pressed, "You didn't answer my question."

"Actually, I had a boyfriend," she revealed, "but our relationship broke off a while ago."

Pujan was stunned. He wondered why anyone would ever leave someone as beautiful as her. He thought the man who let her go must be a fool.

Aarti continued, "He stopped liking me. He said I was boring, that I wasn't romantic, and that we just didn't click. So, he left me. I’m single now, but he isn't. He even messaged me saying he found a girl better than me, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of a response."

The atmosphere turned quiet as they both focused on their food.

After finishing, Pujan said, "I think anyone who would leave you is a fool. You seem like such a simple, genuine person."

She laughed heartily. "We’ve only met twice—how can you know that already? It’s hard to truly know people. Sometimes you don't see a person's true nature even after years."

"I meet a lot of people," Pujan countered, "so I can usually tell what someone is like."

"That's a strange thing to say."

"Why?"

"Are you a psychiatrist or something?"

"I'm not a psychiatrist," Pujan said, putting his glass back on the table, "but my profession is somewhat similar. I am a writer."

Aarti was shocked. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. Pujan watched her and asked, "Are you surprised?"

"I don't know what to say."

Pujan smiled. "To be honest, I came here to write a story. I also came for a vacation and to travel. I'm searching for a story, but that doesn't mean I’m going to write your story. I only asked about your relationship as a friend."

Aarti looked at him. Breaking the silence, she asked, "I don't know if you'll write my story or not, but how many stories have you written so far?"

Pujan smiled. "I got lost in thought for a second there."

"Why?"

"I thought you might have been angry when I told you I was a writer."

"No. I was surprised for a moment, but I wasn't thinking anything like that. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Ah, right. I’ve written two novels. The first, Mero Euta Sathi Chha (I Have a Friend), was my own story. A few years ago, I lost my best friend. I felt so alone. Writing about it made my heart feel lighter, and the novel became quite successful. After that, I got so many emails and calls from people wanting me to write their stories. I read many of them, but I didn't feel like publishing them. I prefer novels based on my own experiences, though I’ve written short stories for magazines based on things that touched my heart. To write someone else's story, it has to move you."

Aarti listened intently. "And what will your third novel be about?"

"It will be about love."

They both smiled and went back to their sightseeing. Pujan felt a different kind of energy after this meeting. He wanted to send her a friend request on Facebook, but he hesitated—they had only met twice. He decided it would be better to wait until they knew each other more deeply.

CHAPTER 21

THE GROWING DISTANCE

I hadn’t been in much contact with Pujan since his meeting with Aarti. It had been quite a while since we last saw each other. I decided to send him a message, so I opened Facebook and went to Messenger. Pujan was offline, but I sent the message anyway.

"Hello. What’s the news? Where have you disappeared to? Now that you're planning to head back to Nepal, have you stopped caring about us?"

After hitting send, I lingered on Facebook for a bit. Finding nothing interesting to scroll through, I logged out and got back to my work. I felt a sense of dullness after Pujan’s departure from our usual routine. On Fridays and Saturdays, we used to be inseparable, but it had been nearly two months since I’d had any real contact with him. I spent most of my time cooped up in my room. It had also been two months since I last saw Samir and Jimmy. They were shocked by my sudden disappearance from their lives. Even I was surprised by the change I saw in myself.

CHAPTER 22

THE SILENT STORM

It was 9:30 PM. Pujan was sitting on his bed, scrolling through Facebook. He opened his message requests and saw my message. He read it, but he didn't reply. He had originally planned to return to Nepal, but after meeting Aarti, he had extended his stay in America. He had picked up some part-time work and planned to stay for a few more months. He debated what to say to me; he still hadn't told me that he was seeing the woman I loved.

After logging out of Facebook, Pujan tried to write in his diary, but nothing came. His mind was blank—or rather, it was filled only with Aarti’s face. He was clearly falling in love. He caught himself smiling at nothing, unaware of how deep he was drifting.

Evening arrived. Aarti was in a rush to finish her shift. She had invited her close friend, Suraksha Dhakal, to meet after many days. They used to work in the same office back in Nepal and shared everything. Aarti had come to America first, followed by Suraksha a few months later, who eventually got married here. Since the marriage, they hadn't seen each other much. Today was a long-awaited reunion.

Aarti needed to talk about Amit and Pujan. Although she usually shared everything, she hadn't found the right moment to discuss me—mostly because the thought of me made her feel exhausted and annoyed. Despite her repeated rejections, I was still chasing her, and the very memory of it drained her.

By 6:00 PM, Aarti was finished with her work. Her phone rang; it was Suraksha.

"Hello," Aarti said.

"Hi! I just finished work. I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay."

Aarti stepped out of the restaurant and waited in a corner. She was engrossed in a book Pujan had given her—his own novel, Mero Euta Sathi Chha. She had only just started the first few pages.

Forty minutes later, someone snatched the book from her hands. Aarti jumped in surprise. It was Suraksha, standing there with a smirk. Aarti checked her watch; it was 6:40 PM.

"I am so sorry, Suraksha!"

Suraksha tossed the book onto the table and sat down. "You invite me here and then get completely lost in a book? I’ve been standing here for a while, and you didn't even notice."

"I am so sorry. I really got lost in the story. You're not mad, are you?"

Suraksha smiled and shook her head. "So, why the urgent call today?"

"It’s been so long since we caught up. I just needed to see you."

"I'm starving. Let’s order something."

Aarti called the waiter and placed an order. Once the waiter left, Aarti leaned in. "Actually, there’s something I need to tell you."

"Go on."

"I met the author of that book sitting in front of you."

Suraksha looked at the name on the cover. "Pujan Nepali?" she said, surprised. She wasn't much of a reader and didn't know many authors.

"It’s only been a few weeks since we met, but it feels like I’ve known him for years. I feel... happy when I’m with him."

"Sounds like my friend has been bitten by the love bug," Suraksha teased.

"There's something else, too," Aarti said, her face turning grave.

"What is it? You look serious."

"Do you remember Amit Dahal?"

"The guy from our old office? What about him?"

"He’s been stalking me."

"What?" Suraksha was stunned.

A silence fell between them. Finally, Suraksha asked, "Since when?"

"Back at the office, he used to tease me constantly. I hated it. His way of 'joking' was just... weird. I asked him so many times to stop, but he kept at it. He proposed to me, and I ignored him. Then he begged for friendship, and I ignored that too. Then I came to America, and he followed me here. He's been chasing me here, too. I’ve rejected him so many times, but he won't stop. He keeps showing up at the restaurant. I’m exhausted, Suraksha. I didn't know who else to turn to, so I called you."

Suraksha listened carefully. When Aarti finished, she asked, "Have you told Pujan about this?"

"Not yet. I'm meeting him this Saturday. I plan to tell him then."

"If things get worse, let me know," Suraksha said firmly. "I can help you legally if I need to." Suraksha, after all, ran her own law office.

The food arrived, and they began to eat in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging over the table.

CHAPTER 23

THE UNVEILING OF SECRETS

It was Saturday. As usual, Aarti and Pujan went out together. Aarti had begun to truly cherish Pujan’s company; she felt a deep desire for this bond to never break. With him, she could laugh and be herself without any pretenses. After wandering through Virginia, they settled into a restaurant as evening fell. Once they had ordered their food, Aarti looked at Pujan seriously.

"Pujan, I have something to tell you."

"Go ahead," he replied.

Aarti hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words, yet knowing this truth could no longer be hidden. Seeing her silence, Pujan prompted, "You said you had something to say. Why have you gone quiet?"

"Actually... I need to tell you about my past."

The moment she mentioned her "past," Pujan knew instinctively she was going to talk about Amit. He already knew the story from Amit’s perspective, but he wanted—needed—to hear it from her lips.

"I want to tell you about Amit Dahal."

A heavy silence filled the space between them. They looked at each other, but Pujan didn't ask any questions; he simply waited. Despite his stillness, Aarti pushed forward.

"Amit and I worked at the same organization. He used to tease me constantly, but I never liked it. I always got a negative vibe from him. There should be a limit to 'joking,' but he didn't have one. Even after I repeatedly asked him to stop, he persisted. Then he proposed to me. I ignored him. He apologized many times, but I still didn't care. To me, he is like a 'mad lover'—obsessive and stubborn. He followed me all the way to America just for this. He messages me constantly, and I am utterly exhausted. Love and friendship require mutual understanding; they cannot be forced."

They both fell silent, locked in each other's gaze. Just then, their food arrived. Pujan looked at Aarti and said, "To be honest, I have something to tell you as well."

"What is it?"

"I already knew about you and Amit."

Aarti was stunned. "How? How did you know?"

Pujan grew grave. "I won't hide anything from you. How you react after hearing my side is up to you, but I don't want to lose a good friend."

"Whatever it is, say it clearly, Pujan."

"I met Amit," he confessed.

"Where?" Aarti asked, her voice thick with shock.

Pujan explained everything—how they met at the bar, the stories Amit told him, and the connection they had built. Aarti listened with rapt attention, her disbelief growing with every word. She couldn't fathom why Amit was still so fixated on her. Pujan watched her closely, waiting for her response.

Finally, Aarti broke the silence. "Does Amit know that we are seeing each other?"

"No," Pujan admitted. "He doesn't. I didn't think it was appropriate to tell him because I knew he would take it badly. In fact, Amit doesn't even know I'm still in America."

"What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to return to Nepal, but I changed my mind. I think I’ll stay here for a few more months."

Aarti felt a wave of confusion wash over her. She didn't know what was happening to her life anymore. Without saying another word, she stood up and walked out of the restaurant. Pujan sat there, watching her silhouette disappear into the night.

CHAPTER 24

THE CLARITY OF CHOICE

"What happened to you?" Suraksha asked, noticing Aarti’s distressed state.

"I honestly don't know what is happening in my life anymore," Aarti replied, looking overwhelmed. "I feel completely lost for words."

"Just tell me what happened."

Aarti poured out everything that had transpired at the restaurant. After listening to her, Suraksha smiled gently. "Look," she said, "you talked about Amit, and Pujan told you the truth without any deception. He could have hidden his connection to Amit, or he could have even used it to blackmail you. The fact that he was so open suggests he truly cares for you. You're overthinking this because you're feeling sensitive right now. Take a moment to think with both your heart and your mind—you’ll find your answer."

Suraksha’s words resonated with Aarti. Once she returned to her apartment, she sat down and reflected deeply on the situation. She realized Pujan was right for her. His intentions weren't malicious; if they were, he never would have mentioned Amit. He had shared the truth so that their friendship—and whatever was growing between them—could be honest.

Following this realization, her feelings for Pujan only deepened. Suraksha was right; Aarti had simply been on edge. The constant weight of Amit’s "madness" had become a persistent irritation, a source of endless tension that sometimes even interfered with her work. But with Pujan, the air felt different.

CHAPTER 25

THE WALL OF SILENCE

Many days had passed since Pujan and I last spoke. I would send him messages on Facebook, and although he would see them, he never replied. It wasn't just Pujan—Aarti wasn't responding to any of my attempts to reach out either. Eventually, I tried calling him. The phone rang and rang, but he didn't pick up.

I was baffled. Usually, he was quick to reply to my messages and always answered my calls. We hadn't seen each other in a long time. Most of my days were consumed by college assignments, and I hadn't been able to make much time for my friends lately. Finally, one day, he answered.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello," Pujan replied. His voice sounded distant.

"How are things, my friend?"

"I'm fine. What brings you to call today? Is there some work you need help with?"

"No, it's just been a long time since we caught up. That’s why I called. If you're free, let's meet up today."

"Not today. I can't. Let’s meet in a few weeks."

"Alright then..."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I stood there, stunned. What was he so busy with? He was clearly avoiding me, and I had no idea why.

CHAPTER 26

THE CHOICE

"Hey, Aarti. Are you free today?" Suraksha asked.

"I am."

"Then let's meet up."

"Sure. Why don't you come to the restaurant where I work?"

It was Saturday, around 10:30 AM. Suraksha had called, but Aarti wondered why; Suraksha almost never called without a specific reason. Aarti was intrigued.

By the time Aarti finished her shift, it was 2:30 PM. She sat waiting for Suraksha, sipping coffee. When Suraksha arrived, she wasn't alone—she had brought Pujan with her. Suraksha looked at the two of them, sensing the heavy silence.

"Are you two just going to stare at each other, or is someone going to say something?"

Pujan and Aarti’s eyes met. Both wanted to speak, but neither knew where to begin.

"I know you're both struggling with how to start this," Suraksha intervened. "You both love each other, but you're staying silent because of Amit. Forget Amit. Do what your hearts tell you; that is what's right."

Suraksha looked at them one last time and stood up. "I'm leaving this table now. Say whatever you need to say to each other." With that, she walked out of the restaurant.

Pujan and Aarti watched her leave, then turned back to one another. Breaking the silence, Pujan said, "I am so sorry. I felt it was necessary to tell you about Amit. If you knew the truth upfront, it wouldn't be hard for you later. If you had found out behind my back, you would have asked why I hid it from you. That’s why I told you."

"I felt bad for a moment," Aarti admitted, "but then I realized it was for the best. It’s good that you told me early. I had already started to like you, and I knew you felt the same. It’s not that I wasn't thinking of you, but I just didn't know what to say, so I couldn't bring myself to call or meet you."

Pujan smiled, and seeing his smile, Aarti couldn't help but smile back.

"Aarti, I love you."

"I love you too. But... from now on, please don't call or meet Amit."

"Oh, I'll definitely go meet him," Pujan teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Fine, go meet him!" Aarti replied, pretending to be angry. "But don't come to see me. I won't talk to you."

"I was only teasing, Aarti. Don't be mad."

He reached out, and they shared a long, meaningful hug. From that day on, Pujan and Aarti began meeting almost every day. They were finally, truly happy.

CHAPTER 27

THE SHATTERED GLASS

It was Friday, 7:30 PM, at a bar in Virginia. Aarti, Suraksha, and Pujan were there. It was the first time Aarti had been out to a bar since her relationship with Pujan began, and she was finally enjoying herself with her friends.

The three of them were sipping wine and chatting when I walked up to their table and said, "Hi." All three of them looked up, stunned. They looked at each other, then at me, and I stared back at all three of them.

"You're here?" Aarti asked.

"Actually, that’s my question—all three of you? How are you all here together?" I asked.

I pulled up a chair and sat down. "Pujan, weren't you supposed to be back in Nepal by now?" I was baffled to see him still in America. The man who was supposed to be in Nepal was right here—and with the girl I loved. It was unbelievable. A surge of anger toward both Aarti and Pujan began to boil inside me.

"Say something, Pujan! How are you and Aarti here? Was Aarti the reason you stopped replying to my messages?" I ordered a whiskey. My gaze was locked onto the two of them.

Pujan and Aarti exchanged a look. Taking a deep breath, Pujan turned to me. "Can you just listen to me for a moment?"

"It happened about a month before I was supposed to leave for Nepal," Pujan began. "I was at the restaurant where Aarti works. I saw her, and it was love at first sight. At first, I had no idea she was the same Aarti you had told me about. For a month, I didn't even have the courage to speak to her. Later, when she realized I was Nepali, she came over to talk. We started meeting. She showed me around. Somewhere along the way, we fell in love. Aarti told me everything about you, and I told her my side, too. And yes... you're right. Aarti is the reason I stayed in America."

I slammed my whiskey glass onto the floor, shattering it, and stood up. "Have you no shame? Falling for the girl your own friend loves? How did you even dare? After all the things I did to please Aarti? I changed myself for her! I was ready to do anything to get her. Do you think you're some kind of hero? Aarti belongs only to me!"

Pujan looked around nervously; everyone in the bar was staring at us. He stepped closer, trying to calm me down, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to anything he had to say. In that moment, Aarti stood up and slapped me hard across the face. I stared at her, and she glared back at me with fire in her eyes.

"I have told you a thousand times that I have nothing to do with you!" she shouted. "I do not love you. I love Pujan. How can you be so dense after being told a thousand times? Amit, why can't you just move on?"

I felt a surge of aggression, but I couldn't act on it. It was a public place. Everyone’s eyes were on us. My face was red with rage, my eyes telling the story of my fury. I turned and walked out of the bar. Jimmy and Samir had arrived by then, and seeing me leave, they followed close behind.

They called out to me from behind, but I kept walking, lost in my own world. I couldn't stomach the sight of Pujan and Aarti as a couple. How could I even look at them? My mind was a storm of unrest. It felt like dark clouds had moved into my life, bringing a cold, howling wind.

After that incident, I began to drink heavily every single day. I couldn't pull myself together. Jimmy and Samir were not only shocked by my condition; they were deeply worried.

One day, unable to watch me self-destruct any longer, Samir spoke up. "You need to leave Virginia. I’ve talked to a Nepali guy I know. You can work at a department store there—it’ll help clear your head."

I agreed immediately. I needed a mental reset. I coordinated with my university for a transfer, and fortunately, it went through. I had six months left to finish my studies. I started packing my things. Everything was arranged; I was moving to New York. Samir had handled the details—his friend had an apartment and was looking for a roommate. I needed a new environment, and New York was the answer.

CHAPTER 28

NEW YORK STATE OF MIND

I had been in New York for a month, yet I still hadn't been able to erase Aarti from my mind. It was a day off, a sweltering summer day. I was in my room, scrolling through Facebook on my laptop, when Samrat walked in.

Samrat was a close friend of Samir’s. They had known each other since arriving in America; they worked together in the same hotel for a year before Samrat found a job in New York and moved. Samrat Shakya was born and raised in Kathmandu. He had studied there, earning a Bachelor’s degree in English. He had grown frustrated after failing to find a good job back home—he wanted to do something in Nepal, but the lack of career opportunities and money felt like a betrayal. Seeing his friends leave for America, he decided to follow suit.

"What's up, brother?" Samrat said.

I quickly shut my laptop. He walked over to me.

"Hey, why did you close your laptop as soon as I came in? Hiding a girlfriend's photo?"

"Nothing like that," I replied. "I was just browsing Facebook for no particular reason."

"I’m just teasing you. Get ready."

"Why?"

"We’re going to Coney Island beach today. My other friends are coming too. You’re coming, right?"

"Sure. I'll get ready."

By 1:30 PM, the heat was intense. After spending some time in the water, I sat down to soak up the sun. I had an English book in my hand—One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat. I was lost in my reading when someone said, "Hi." Without looking up, I replied "Hi." It was a woman’s voice.

"You seem to be a reader," she said in Nepali.

I closed my book and looked up at her. She looked like she had just come out of the water. She was beautiful. It's just a man's heart, after all—one can't help but acknowledge beauty. As they say, the eyes are prone to sin.

"Yes, I read, but not that much. Just when I have free time. I'm not exactly 'crazy' about books."

She smiled, and we began to talk. As the conversation flowed, I learned her name and a few things about her. Her name was Shiva Dhakal. She worked at a department store, and her job seemed comfortable and stable. Based on how she spoke, she held a decent position there. Eventually, she asked me, "You’re good-looking and a smooth talker. You must have a girlfriend."

"No. I don't have a girlfriend."

"No?" Shiva asked, surprised.

"That's right, I don't. No one fell for me. You’re very beautiful yourself; I’m sure you have a boyfriend."

"I had one. Not anymore."

"Really?" I was surprised.

"Yes. He started liking someone else. So, he left me."

When she said that, my mind immediately drifted back to Aarti. Aarti, too, had started liking Pujan. I could never win her over. No matter how hard I tried, I failed. I began to see many weaknesses within myself.

"Hey! You've drifted off into your own world again."

"It's nothing," I muttered.

Just then, Samrat called out to me. He walked over and said, "I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You're here? It's time to head back to the apartment."

I agreed. Before leaving, Shiva and I exchanged numbers. After this first meeting, we began to see each other regularly. I started giving my time to Shiva, finally beginning the slow process of forgetting Aarti.

CHAPTER 29

THE REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR

It was two months after our first meeting. Shiva called me and asked to meet at a restaurant. After finishing work, I headed there. It was 7:30 PM. Shiva was already waiting for me, tucked away at a corner table. At first, I couldn't spot her, but she saw me and waved her hand. I made my way over to her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," Shiva replied.

Breaking the silence, she asked, "Shall we order something?"

"Sure."

After we placed our order, I asked, "Was there something specific? You seemed in a hurry to meet."

"It was important to me, so I called."

"Go on."

"I love you, Amit."

I went completely silent. I just stared at her, lost for words. I found myself in the exact same situation I had been in before—the only difference was that now, I was in Aarti’s shoes. Just as Aarti hadn't loved me, I didn't feel that way for Shiva. For the first time, I truly understood what Aarti must have felt, and I tried to process that realization.

Shiva watched me closely. "You’ve gone quiet," she noted. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it’s nothing bad. I just... I don't know what to say. I’ll be right back."

I went to the restroom. I splashed water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Life is a strange thing. I had no answer. They say unexpected things happen in life, and now I felt the truth of it. I couldn't get the person I loved, and now, someone I never expected was proposing to me. My mind was racing with conflicting thoughts, but I knew I had to give Shiva an answer. I stepped out of the restroom and sat back down with her.

"Sorry. I took a long time."

"It’s okay."

"Shiva..."

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

Shiva was overjoyed and reached out to hug me. In truth, I didn't love her. Or rather, I had never looked at her with those eyes. Yet, I accepted her proposal anyway. I accepted it out of my own selfish need to fill the void.

Following the proposal, we began going out frequently. Shiva was much happier than I was. Samrat had already picked up on the signs of our relationship, but even though he knew, he hadn't said anything to me directly.

A few weeks later, Samir called. It had been a long time since we last spoke; we hadn't had much contact since I moved to New York. I picked up the phone. "What’s the news, my friend?"

"Forget my news, tell me yours!" Samir replied, sounding annoyed.

"Why are you upset?"

"You're hiding things from your own friend now?"

"What have I hidden from you? You know everything about my life."

"Did you tell me about your new romance?"

"What are you talking about, man?"

"I heard a new love story has started for you in New York."

So that was it. Samir wanted to know about my "love story."

"It’s nothing like that," I tried to deflect.

"If it’s nothing, then what is it? Come on, tell me."

"How did you even find out?"

"If I don't know what’s going on with my friend, who will?"

I knew Samrat must have told him. There was no other way Samir could have known, but I didn't hold a grudge about it.

"Fine, yes. I’m in a relationship. I’ll be coming down there in two or three weeks. I’ll tell you everything then."

"Fair enough," he said, and hung up.

 

CHAPTER 30

THE SMOKE OF MEMORY

Shiva and I were in bed. We had shared a physical intimacy many times now. Having found her love in me, Shiva was incredibly happy, while I remained burdened by the sorrow of never having attained mine.

After a while, Shiva spoke up. "I feel like..."

"Like what?" I asked, teasing her lightly.

"Don't tease me. I’m being serious today."

"What’s wrong?"

"Sometimes I feel like... you’re hiding something from me."

I went silent for a few moments. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I was terrified of how she might interpret it.

As we looked at each other, I finally spoke. "Before you, I loved someone else. It was a one-sided love. She knew exactly how I felt, but her response was always a rejection. She loves someone else."

"Do you still love her?" Shiva asked.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"I asked first. I want an answer."

"Yes," I admitted. "I still care for her, but I want to forget her. I want to build a life with you."

Shiva smiled gently. "I only asked because I wanted to understand what's in your heart."

I felt a rush of heat to my face, flushed and at a loss for words. I got up, put on my clothes, and stared out the window. There was a table by the window with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit one and began to exhale thick clouds of smoke.

Shiva came over and stood near me, watching me. I was lost in my own world, taking deep, frequent drags of the cigarette.

Seeing how much I was smoking, she whispered, "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"It's fine," I replied. "It’s just that those bitter memories came rushing back. Loving someone who doesn't love you back is incredibly hard. I haven't been able to let her go."

We both fell into silence. She leaned in and rested her head on my shoulder.

CHAPTER 31

THE BROKEN BOTTLE

It was three weeks later, a Friday. I had taken some leave and traveled back to Virginia. I arrived in the evening. Seeing me, both Samir and Jimmy were overjoyed. We headed to our usual haunt—the Virginia bar. It had been a long time since we’d all been together, and that night, I drank whiskey heavily. Both of them were shocked by my pace.

"What is wrong with you?" Samir asked. He could clearly read my face; he understood my silent suffering. But my heart wasn't finding any relief. Instead, it was filled with a burning rage. I was angry at my own life.

"I’ve gone mad," I muttered.

"We already know you’re mad," Samir countered.

"How?"

"You're in love. That’s why you forgot about us. Since you moved to New York, you vanished. Who is this person who made you forget your friends?"

"It’s not like that."

"Then what is it? Explain it to us."

"When Samir told me to go to New York, my heart didn't want to go at first, but I wanted to forget Aarti. That’s why I went. A month after arriving, I met Shiva at Coney Island beach."

Samir and Jimmy listened intently as I spun my tale. I was drifting deeper into the intoxication.

"And then what happened?" Samir asked.

"Then... we started spending all our time together. We became physically intimate. She loves me deeply. She’s even ready to give her life for me."

"And you? Do you love her or not?"

"What do you guys think?" I challenged.

"I think you don't love her. You’re just playing with her," Jimmy interjected.

"Exactly! You’re right!" I said, my voice rising with a strange, dark energy.

Samir stared at my face, searching for something. He didn't like my answer at all. He slammed his whiskey glass on the table and said angrily, "What are you doing with your life?"

"What have I done that's so wrong?"

"You didn't get Aarti—fine. But what are you doing to Shiva? She loves you. Accept her and live happily!"

"I am using her," I spat. "Aarti didn't accept me, so I won't truly accept anyone else. Why should I? Let Shiva realize what one-sided love feels like. I want to give her the same pain I feel. Only then will my heart find peace."

"Everything you are doing is wrong!" Samir shouted. "Love Shiva. Forget Aarti. Aarti is never going to be yours. You’ve already ruined your own life—why are you ruining Shiva’s too?"

"Who are you to take Shiva’s side? Are you her lover?" I yelled back, blinded by rage.

"Regardless of who I am, you don't have the right to do this!"

"Shut up! You’re interfering in my private life? Why do you care what I do? Who the hell are you to me?"

The argument exploded. Jimmy just sat there, listening but unable to react; the whiskey had hit him hard, and he was in no condition to speak or stand.

As we fought, the people in the bar turned to stare. Samir was firmly on Shiva's side, telling me exactly how wrong I was. In a fit of blind rage, I picked up a whiskey bottle and struck him. Samir collapsed to the floor. I turned and fled the bar.

I went to another friend's house and spent the night there. In the morning, Jimmy called and told me what had happened. Jimmy hadn't been conscious during the fight, but he had pieced the story together. Because of me, Samir was in the hospital. Despite what I had done, Samir had protected me from the police.

My eyes filled with tears. I couldn't bring myself to face him, let alone ask for his forgiveness. I was consumed by regret. I had lost my best friend. I couldn't stay in Virginia any longer, so I fled back to New York.

Back in New York, I tried many times to call Samir, but I kept losing my nerve. I would stare at his number for hours, unable to press 'call.' Finally, I gathered the courage to dial. The phone rang, but he didn't pick up. I tried again and again, but Samir never deemed it appropriate to answer me.

CHAPTER 32

THE WEIGHT OF A PROMISE

"You’ve disappeared completely. You don’t even seem to want to meet me anymore. What has happened to you?"

I was lost in thoughts of Samir. I hadn't been paying any attention to what Shiva was saying. She was watching me intently and had called my name several times. It was only after she splashed some water on my face that I snapped back to reality.

"I called you so many times, but you didn't hear me," she said. "You were lost in some other world. That’s why I splashed the water. I'm sorry."

"It’s fine," I muttered, heading to the restroom. When I returned, Shiva looked at me seriously. "I had something to tell you."

"Go ahead."

"Let’s get married, Amit."

I was stunned, though I made sure not to let it show on my face.

"Why the rush right now?" I asked. "There’s plenty of time for marriage later."

"I’ve already told my parents about you," she countered. "They’ve been asking to meet you."

How could I tell her that I didn't want to get married at all? Shiva was persistently pushing for an early wedding in her own roundabout way. I couldn't win against her insistence. Eventually, I gave in and said yes. While I became consumed by gravity and gloom, Shiva was overjoyed. She loved me deeply, but I was only with her for my own convenience.

A week later, Shiva called. I was at work. Initially, I didn't want to pick up; I knew if I did, she would just keep talking and talking. But I answered anyway.

"Hi," Shiva said.

"Hi," I replied.

"The wedding date has been set!" she announced, her voice bubbling with excitement. You could hear the joy in her tone.

"Really?" I said, sounding surprised. I couldn't believe how much of a hurry she was in.

"The auspicious date for our wedding is just one month from now."

I listened in a daze. It felt like a child playing a prank on me. Why was Shiva so obsessed with me? I had already started to find her exhausting. Specifically, she talked about marriage twenty-four hours a day.

"Hello? Hello?" Shiva called out.

I had drifted off into my own world again. Snapping back, I said, "I’ll talk to you later. I'm busy." Then, I hung up.

CHAPTER 33

THE DARK DESCENT

As the wedding date drew closer, my anxiety began to spiral out of control. I started distancing myself from Shiva. I wasn't even showing up for work properly anymore. Instead, I found myself constantly traveling back to Virginia. I was losing my mind.

I haunted the bars where I knew I’d find them. Every single day, I watched Pujan and Aarti together, and every time I saw them, I burned with a visceral jealousy. I was being consumed from the inside out. Driven by this madness, I began stalking them, documenting their lives, and taking photos. I knew I shouldn't be doing it, but I had developed a different, darker plan.

One evening, I was at the bar in Virginia. Pujan and Aarti were there too. I watched them intensely from a distance. About an hour later, Aarti said something to Pujan and stepped outside. Her face was glowing—likely a reflection of the love she felt for him. I followed her, the rhythmic clicking of her sandals echoing in the night. At one point, she paused. Terror gripped my heart; I thought for sure she was going to turn around and scream at me. Fortunately, she kept moving forward. Ten minutes later, we arrived at an apartment. I had followed her right to her door. She stepped inside, and I slipped in after her. She hadn't noticed me yet. Five minutes passed before she finally turned around.

Seeing me there, she froze in absolute shock. She stepped toward me, stammering, "You? What are you doing here? I thought Pujan..."

I reached back and slammed the door shut. Panic set into Aarti's eyes. She started looking around frantically, trying to reach for the phone on the bed, but I lunged forward and snatched it away first. I moved in closer to her.

"You're here?" she asked again, her voice trembling with fear.

"Yes," I replied coldly.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and played a video for her. It was a recording of an intimate moment between her and Pujan. Aarti stared at the screen, paralyzed with horror. From that moment, I began to blackmail her. I forced her to be mine every single day. Initially, she fought me, but I used force to get what I wanted.

Every day she was with me, but her heart was nowhere near. Without her knowledge, I recorded videos of our encounters on my phone. Every night, I would watch those videos, mesmerized. I convinced myself that I had finally won her for a lifetime. When I was with her, I felt a twisted sense of peace and joy.

CHAPTER 34

THE RUNAWAY’S RETURN

Dear Shiva,

Please forgive me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to grant it.

The truth is, I don’t love you. You are a wonderful person, but I couldn't bring myself to love you back. I tried so hard, but I failed. Perhaps because I couldn’t let go of my past, I couldn’t make room for you.

Yes, Shiva, I have a dark past. You once asked me if I loved someone else, and I lied to you. I didn't tell you the whole truth.

I love Aarti, but she doesn't love me. We met in Nepal; we worked in the same office. I tried to get close to her, but I couldn't. I teased her constantly—too much, in fact. She hated it. She begged me to stop, but I wouldn't listen. My behavior drove her away. Eventually, she went to America to study. Not to be outdone, I followed her there just to see her. I stalked her for months before we finally spoke, but her heart hadn't changed. Later, she fell in love with a man she met there. I couldn't stomach it.

Then I came to New York. I met you. I came here to forget Aarti. I thought being with you would help me erase her, that I would learn to love you. But I couldn't. Every time I got close to you, I thought of her. Even when we were intimate, I felt like I was with Aarti. I cannot forget her.

I’ve had many relationships before Aarti, but I’ve never met anyone like her, nor will I ever. I love her more than myself. I am a mad lover for her. I am ready to do anything to have her.

Forgive me, Shiva. I cannot marry you. I don't even know why I didn't say no sooner. I could have stopped this if I wanted to, but I didn't. I shouldn't be telling you this on our wedding day, but I couldn't keep it inside any longer.

I hope you understand.

Your friend, Amit Dahal

I read the letter one last time after finishing it. Today was our wedding day. The auspicious ceremony was set for 7:00 PM. I hurried to Shiva’s house, my face covered to avoid recognition, carrying a suitcase. It must have been around 3:00 PM when I arrived. I knew exactly where her room was. I ignored the people around the house and slipped into her room. Luckily, it was empty. I placed the letter on the side table and left as quietly as I had arrived. I hailed a taxi and headed straight for the airport.

I was returning to Nepal. My flight was at 6:00 PM. I reached the airport in a rush at 4:30 PM. By the time I cleared security and check-in, it was 5:20 PM. The airport was crowded, and everything took longer than expected. Soon, they called for boarding, and I stepped onto the plane.

I was on the plane, but my heart was still in America. I had ruined the lives of both Aarti and Shiva. For my own selfish desires, I had devastated them both. I couldn't face Aarti; I had fallen so low in her eyes. I have no idea what state she is in now. I only know that she will despise me and never forgive me. Neither will Shiva. My friends won't forgive me either. My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. I had accomplished nothing in America—so what was I going to do in Nepal? How could I face my parents? What would I say about my life there? I didn't finish my Master's degree, nor did I work a respectable job. I hadn't even told them I was coming home.

Lost in these thoughts, I didn't even notice when the plane took off. My heart was not at peace. I didn't know if the decision to return was right or wrong; I just wanted to run. I wanted to escape my own actions.

After fourteen hours, I landed in Qatar for my three-hour transit. It wasn't crowded, and the process was quick. I wandered the airport until it was time to board the next flight. The journey from Qatar to Nepal takes about four hours and five minutes. I was scheduled to land at 12:30 AM. I decided not to go home immediately to avoid waking my parents in the middle of the night. I checked into a hotel near the airport called Hotel Sumit. Luckily, there was a vacant room. I thanked the receptionist, took my key, changed my clothes, and collapsed onto the bed. I fell asleep instantly.

I stayed at Hotel Sumit for three days. On Friday, after eating, I prepared to go home. At 12:35 PM, I checked out and hailed a taxi to Chabahil. My mind was full of questions and anxiety. What would my parents think? Would they scold me? When the taxi stopped in front of the house, my heart began to race. I paid the driver, thanked him, and rang the doorbell.

My mother came down, asking "Who is it?" Likely having been in the TV room, she didn't recognize me through the gate at first. "Are you looking for someone?" she asked.

With my heart pounding, I looked at her. Her eyes widened in shock as she opened the door, and they quickly filled with tears. I walked inside with her following close behind. The house was exactly as I had left it. I went to my room—I hadn't realized how much I had missed it. I got lost looking at my old photos on the wall and my bed in the corner where I used to eat, study, and use my laptop. I gently touched my old guitar. I used to play it so much. I smiled, even as my eyes grew misty.

Seeing me lost in thought and smiling, my mother asked, "Son, where did you go? Why are you smiling like that?"

Her voice snapped me back to reality. "Mom, I just need to rest for a bit," I said. She nodded and left the room. I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake up until 8:00 PM. She must have realized how exhausted I was and decided not to wake me. I showered and went to the kitchen, but no one was there. I moved to the living room and found my parents talking. They went silent when they saw me. My father had come home early from the office after my mother called to tell him I had arrived. He looked at me with deep surprise.

"You came back without any warning?" my father asked. "Your studies weren't finished. Why did you come back so soon? You should have stayed another year or two."

I sat on the sofa. "I just didn't feel like staying there anymore. That's why I came back. I didn't want to worry you, so I didn't say anything. It’s incredibly difficult to work and study abroad. So, I returned."

My father went silent, looking at my face for a long moment. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he held back. He clearly had many questions and had expected much more from me, but those expectations hadn't been met. We ate dinner a short while later. My mother asked me to share my experiences from America. I told her some stories, but I said nothing about Aarti or Shiva. How could I tell them that story? If I had done something they could be proud of, I would have shared it.

After dinner, they watched the news, and I went back to my room. I opened Facebook, but I closed it quickly out of boredom. My mind was still in America. More than Shiva, I was haunted by memories of Aarti. How lucky Pujan was to have her. My luck, it seemed, was not as strong. I spent the night awake, lost in memories of her.

The next day, I woke up late. My parents were already up. I rubbed my eyes and checked the clock: 10:30 AM. I was still tired, so I went back to sleep and spent most of the day in bed. My mother, sensing my exhaustion, didn't disturb me. I finally got up at 3:30 PM, made my bed, and freshened up. I went to the kitchen and called for my mother. She had cooked earlier; my father had already eaten and left for work. She had been waiting for me. It was my first proper Nepali meal in a long time. In America, I missed home-cooked food terribly. You could find everything there, but never the true taste of home.

As I ate with relish, my mother watched me intently. Her eyes were full of questions she couldn't bring herself to ask. I didn't have the courage to ask anything either. If she knew the truth about my behavior, I would fall in her estimation forever. How could I ever tell her?

CHAPTER 35

THE SHADOW OF A SUBSTITUTED HEART

It had been a month since I returned to Nepal from America. I was searching for a job, but the constant rejections left me miserable. I was anxious—not just about my career, but still, inevitably, about Aarti. I had failed to win her. Every time I thought of Pujan, a bitter envy took hold of me. I assumed they were married by now, living a blissful life together. Though I was tempted to check their Facebook profiles, I couldn't bring myself to do it. How could I bear to look at their photos? Jealousy had built a permanent home in my heart.

After three months of searching, I finally landed a position. I was hired by a well-known NGO in the Monitoring and Evaluation (M&E) department. I was genuinely happy; the salary was 50,000 rupees a month, which was quite good. I wasn't the only one hired; another person had been selected to work alongside me.

It was my first day at the office. I woke up early, got ready, and left the house at 8:10 AM. The office was located in Lalitpur, so I hopped on a micro-bus. I arrived in about half an hour, but the gates hadn't opened yet. I had twenty minutes to kill, so I ducked into a nearby shop and ordered a black tea. While waiting, I pulled out my phone and started playing Temple Run—one of my favorite games. I lost track of time until I checked my watch: it was one minute to 9:00 AM. I hurriedly paid and rushed into the office.

The doors were open now. I went straight to the meeting hall where the staff had gathered. I offered a small, nervous smile. Four people were busy reading newspapers, while others settled into their work. Not knowing what to do yet, I picked up a paper myself.

Around 10:30 AM, the Chairperson, Mr. Vijay Shakya, called everyone together. Once everyone was seated, Vijay Sir spoke: "Welcome, everyone. You all know why we’ve gathered here today. We have hired two new staff members for the Monitoring and Evaluation of our refugee project. Let’s welcome them. They are Mr. Amit Dahal and Ms. Anmol Shakya. Amit has a year of prior experience and has returned to Nepal after studying in America. Anmol has already worked with three different organizations before joining us. Let’s give them a warm welcome."

We both stood up, offered a Namaste, and introduced ourselves. At first, I hadn't paid much attention to Anmol. But after sitting back down, I really looked at her.

My heart nearly stopped. Looking at her was like seeing a ghost; she reminded me so much of Aarti. The same face, the same height, even her way of speaking was identical. For a moment, it felt as though Aarti herself was standing before me. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

As luck—or fate—would have it, the Chairperson showed us to our workstations. We were assigned to the same workspace. It felt as though she had been sent to help me erase the memory of Aarti. Deep down, a voice warned me that if I started a relationship with Anmol, the ending would not be a happy one. Yet, I was desperate. I wanted to fall into this connection just to finally forget Aarti.

CHAPTER 36

THE ECHO OF SILENCE

It had been four months since I started working. At home, my parents were beginning to pressure me about marriage, but I continued to brush it off. I had no desire to get married myself, but I realized that my parents had their own dreams for me. I begged them to wait just two or three more months. Initially, they weren't convinced, until I told them I had a girlfriend. When they asked about Anmol, I told them everything. My mother’s expression soured at first, but after I explained things, she didn't voice any further objections. I don't think they were truly happy in their hearts, but for the sake of my happiness, they remained silent.

In truth, I had no idea what was in Anmol’s heart. To be even more honest, I didn't truly feel anything for her either. I was only with her because looking at her reminded me of Aarti.

Two weeks later, after lunch, we were all sitting outside. Everyone was chatting with one another while I just watched Anmol. After a while, I walked over to her side.

"Anmol-ji, I have something I need to talk to you about."

"Sure," she replied.

We walked over to a quiet corner. A moment of silence passed between us before Anmol broke it. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Actually... I want to express what’s on my mind," I said, my voice trembling with nerves.

"What is it? Please, say it quickly."

"I’ve started to like you," I blurted out in a single breath.

We stared at each other. The silence stretched out. Anmol simply looked at me, offering no words in return. After a few moments, she turned and walked back to her cabin. I stood there, watching her silhouette disappear. For the rest of the day, she didn't say a word to me. My heart turned cold.

CHAPTER 37

THE ACCEPTANCE

It had been a week since she stopped talking to me. I was terrified that this love story was headed for the same dead end as the one with Aarti. Fear began to take root in my mind. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but I couldn't find the courage. I had no idea what was going on in her heart.

Two weeks passed by in a blur. There was no conversation between us, and a restless anxiety took over my soul. But then, one day, everything changed. I was busy at my desk when Anmol walked into my workspace. She placed a small note on my table, gave me a quick smile, and walked out.

I hurriedly opened the note. As I read it, I was stunned. She had written: “I like you too.”

For a moment, it felt like I wasn't even in this world anymore. My mind immediately went back to Aarti. If only Aarti had accepted my love back then, my world would have been entirely different today. I wouldn't have had to use Shiva or Anmol just to find some scrap of mental satisfaction. But what choice did I have? To quiet the unrest in my heart, I had to do whatever it took.

I felt no regret. I didn't see where I had gone wrong. I haven't experienced even a hint of guilt for my actions. Even I find my own lack of feeling a bit strange.

CHAPTER 38

THE PROXY IN THE DARK

After Anmol accepted my love, we began meeting frequently. Sometimes we met out in the city, but often, when no one was around, we met at each other's homes. Anmol would call me over whenever she was home alone. She was the youngest daughter; her older brother had been living in America for many years. Though Anmol had a deep desire to go there herself, she never could—her visa had been rejected twice. After the second failure, she eventually lost the will to try again.

One Saturday, after we hadn't seen each other outside of the office for quite some time, I was at home watching TV. My phone rang. It was Anmol.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello, how are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine. And you?"

"We haven't met outside of work in a while. Do you want to meet today?"

"Sure, but where?"

"What about your parents?" I asked.

"They’ve gone to Pokhara for two days. That’s why I’m calling you over."

I agreed and headed to her house in Kalanki around 6:00 PM. I rang the bell, and Anmol opened the door immediately. She smiled the moment she saw me and invited me inside. I went in and sat on the sofa. She came over, sat beside me, and rested her head on my chest.

"Amit," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Your eyes seem to be trying to say something. More than that... I feel like you don’t really love me, that you’re just passing time with me. It feels like you love someone else."

Our eyes met. Even though I had the answers, I couldn't give them to her. I could have told her the truth, but I didn't. Everything Anmol said was true, yet I couldn't admit it. Instead, I drifted back into memories of Aarti. I remained silent. Anmol watched me intently, then lifted her head from my chest.

"I think my words hurt you. I’m sorry," she said.

"No, it's not that. I just don't know why you'd think that. I love you, but..." I stopped. I didn't want to speak further. The cold truth was that I was merely using Anmol to quench my own emotional thirst.

Breaking the silence, Anmol spoke again. "I wanted to spend some romantic time with you, but I think I’ve ruined your mood. Let’s go to my room."

We went into her bedroom. I sat on the bed. She approached me, smiling. She began to take off her clothes one by one, and I followed suit.

We took pleasure in each other's bodies, but I was enjoying it far more than she was. My heart found a twisted peace in exploring her form. Whenever I kissed her, I felt as though I was kissing Aarti. When I touched Anmol, I convinced myself I was touching Aarti. Anmol eventually grew tired, but I did not. I was surprised by my own stamina. Perhaps it was the phantom memory of Aarti that kept me so engaged.

I don't know why, but every young woman's face started looking like Aarti's to me. The memory of her never stopped stalking me. 

CHAPTER 39

THE WEDDING KNOT

A year had passed since I started my job, and the pressure from my parents to get married intensified. They knew about Anmol and were constantly pushing me to marry her. Eventually, I gave in and said yes. I agreed, but I had no idea what direction my life—or Anmol’s—would take after the wedding. My mother, especially, was overjoyed after she and my father went to meet Anmol.

It was evening. I arrived home from the office at 6:30 PM. After I freshened up, my mother came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and said, "I really like Anmol. Your father likes her too. We need to show your birth charts to the priest and find an auspicious date for the wedding."

I remained silent. After a moment, she headed back to her room. A few days later, they consulted the priest with our charts. The date was set for the 22nd of Ashar—exactly two months away. They immediately began preparations for the wedding. They started making lists of who to invite, deciding where the ceremony would take place, and which venue to choose for the party. Along with that, they began delegating responsibilities for the various tasks involved in a big wedding.

CHAPTER 40

THE SOLEMN VOW

Finally, my wedding day arrived. The auspicious time (Saait) for the ceremony was set for 11:40 AM. Everyone was busy getting ready, and so was I. As I was dressing in my Daura Suruwal, my mother and several relatives came into my room. My mother looked radiantly happy. She stared at me for a long time before saying, "I am so happy today." Her eyes were brimming with tears of joy.

"Hurry up now," she added. "We’re running late for the auspicious hour. Get ready quickly."

At ten minutes to 11:00 AM, everyone was ready. We boarded the cars and headed straight to the wedding venue in New Baneshwor. We arrived at 11:30 AM; the Mandap was being finalized, and the bride was also in the middle of her preparations.

I stayed in the car. My heart began to throb violently. For a split second, I felt the urge to bolt from the venue, but my mind wouldn't let me. I told myself that by marrying Anmol, I was punishing her for Aarti’s rejection. I was punishing myself, too. I tried to steel my weak heart, taking long, deep breaths. This is just what life is, I thought. I checked my watch—it was 11:40 AM. No one had called me to the altar yet. I decided to wait. Twenty minutes later, it was 12:00 PM. The auspicious window had passed, yet no one had come for me.

I finally stepped out of the car. Anmol’s brother immediately approached me. "Didi is ready," he said. "She just arrived at the Mandap, so I came to fetch you."

I followed him and took my seat at the altar. The priest began chanting mantras, and I followed his instructions mechanically. Every now and then, Anmol would offer a sweet smile, but my mind was stuck on how long the whole ordeal was taking. It took four and a half hours for the ceremony to conclude. I thought to myself: I hope no one else has to endure a wedding this long. Finally, we headed home. Usually, I returned home alone; today, I was bringing a wife with me.

The rituals continued at the house—welcoming the bride, the sisters blocking the door to demand money, the receiving of Tika. By the time we finally went to bed, it was very late. We both fell asleep without saying a word to each other.

The next morning, we woke up late. We both had four days of leave. After a shower, Anmol headed to the kitchen while I went to the bathroom. My father was already busy preparing for the reception party scheduled for the following day at a palace in New Baneshwor.

When I finished my shower, Anmol came to me. "We need to leave after lunch," she said.

"Where to?"

"It’s our photoshoot today. Did you forget?"

I actually had forgotten, so I simply nodded. I had no interest in a photoshoot. There is nothing I find more tedious than taking pictures; I don't understand why people are so obsessed with it. After lunch, I got ready quickly, but Anmol took forever. I wonder why women take so long to get ready. It took her two hours. Finally, we went to Naxal for the shoot. I wore a black suit with a white shirt, while she wore a stunning red sari.

We spent about two hours at the studio. I was bored to death, but Anmol seemed to be enjoying herself. After the shoot, we returned home. I felt utterly drained from the posing.

The next day was the party. We started getting ready in the morning and reached the venue by 3:30 PM. Both families were there early for the formal meeting between the in-laws (Samdhi-Samdhini). The guests were expected at 5:30 PM. After the family meetings and setting up the food, Anmol and I took our seats on the stage. Gradually, the guests began to arrive, bringing gifts and taking photos. Behind my forced smile lay a world of pain.

Welcoming guests and posing for photos left me starving. Relatives put food on the table for us, but there was never enough time to actually eat. A few hours later, the dancing started. We had just finished our meal and were about to head back to our seats when we were pulled onto the dance floor. We began to dance. Anmol was glowing with happiness, but I felt nothing. Throughout the party, she kept talking to me; I kept nodding and agreeing, but in reality, I wasn't listening to a word she said. By 10:30 PM, the party wound down. After the guests left and the bills were settled, we returned home. I changed my clothes and went straight to sleep.

CHAPTER 41

THE OFFICE CELEBRATION

It was only three days after the reception that we finally returned to the office. As soon as we walked in, everyone started teasing us. They jokingly called us "sneaky" for keeping our relationship such a well-guarded secret. We had never breathed a word about "us" at work, and surprisingly, no one had even suspected a thing. Amidst the laughter, Bishal teased, "Anmol probably wouldn't have told us, but Amit, you should have at least given us a hint! So, where’s the honeymoon going to be?"

All our colleagues burst out laughing. I simply offered a faint smile, while Anmol blushed deeply. Seeing this, Bishal continued, "Look at them! They're so shy. Marriage and honeymoons are perfectly normal things, guys. No need to be this embarrassed!"

Everyone chimed in, agreeing with him. Then, Sujita spoke up, "That party the other night wasn't enough for us. I don't know about the others, but I want a separate celebration!"

"Yes! we need a separate party!" the rest of the staff chorused, pushing for an outing.

Eventually, I gave in. "Alright, alright. Today is Tuesday. Let’s do a party this Saturday. You guys decide on the venue, and we’ll make it happen."

Everyone cheered and agreed. With the plan settled, people slowly drifted back to their desks, and Anmol and I started our workday.

CHAPTER 42

THE MASK OF THE EVERYDAY

It was Saturday—the day to give the office colleagues their promised party. We all met in New Baneshwor at 5:30 PM. Everyone was in high spirits; there were fifteen of us in total. Everyone, that is, except for Sachin. He kept staring at Anmol. Why was he looking at her like that? Anmol had shared things about herself with me, but she had never mentioned anything about Sachin. When his eyes finally met mine, he offered a hollow, forced smile, and I returned the same.

The following day was Sunday. We went to see a movie. I’ve never particularly enjoyed watching films in a theater, but I went along for Anmol's sake anyway. Twenty minutes into the movie, I drifted off to sleep while she sat there, thoroughly enjoying the film. She finally woke me up once the credits started rolling.

As we walked out of the hall, Anmol turned to me. "How could you sleep in there? It was such a great movie, and you just slept through it?"

"Whether a movie is good or bad," I replied, "I just can't stay awake in a cinema hall."

She just looked at me with a bewildered expression. Afterwards, we headed to Basantapur to wander around. We spent a long time there. She wanted to take endless photos, and I grew increasingly irritated having to play the photographer, though I made sure not to let my frustration show. 

CHAPTER 43

THE HYPOCRISY OF ADVICE

The next day, Monday, we went to the office and began our usual routine. During work, Sachin approached us. He seemed incredibly nervous. We both looked up at him, and he met our gaze before finally speaking.

"I’m sorry," he began. "I shouldn't have behaved that way the other night. I loved someone and I hadn't found a place to vent my frustration, so I let my anger out yesterday. For that, I am truly sorry."

I stood up from my chair. "Let’s talk about this after office hours," I suggested.

He agreed and retreated to his cabin. Anmol watched him go, then came closer to me. "Why are you meeting Sachin later?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I just want to talk sense into him," I replied. "I want to have a word with him. Don't worry about it."

Anmol remained silent, eventually returning to her desk to work. I did the same.

After finishing work in the evening, Sachin and I sat down at a nearby café. I had asked Anmol not to join us. She clearly wanted to hear our conversation, but she couldn't refuse my request. I promised to tell her everything when I got home, so she agreed to head back first.

Sachin and I sat in the café, a heavy silence hanging between us for a few moments. Soon, a waiter approached to take our orders. I was hungry, so I ordered a plate of momos and a cup of coffee. He ordered a plate of chowmein and milk tea.

We looked at each other. Someone had to start the conversation. "I found out about the relationship between you and Anmol," I said.

Sachin turned serious. "How did you find out?"

"I just know. How I found out or who told me isn't important," I stated. "What matters is what you need to understand for yourself. You shouldn't have embarrassed yourself by drinking and acting out. What did you gain from that? Even if you didn't mention Anmol by name, don't you think our friends knew exactly who you were talking about?"

Sachin remained silent. I felt a strange sense of self-reflection; here I was, lecturing Sachin, yet I hadn't followed my own advice in the past. If I couldn't control myself back then, why would Sachin listen to me now?

"Look, Sachin," I continued. "Anmol already rejected your feelings. She is happy now. You should try to find happiness in your own life too."

He didn't say a word; he just kept staring at me. I got the feeling he didn't want to speak at all. Perhaps the sting of rejection had stolen his voice. This one-sided love is an incredibly difficult burden to carry. Two-sided love is easy, but rejection pricks like a thorn. It’s hard to endure; almost impossible. Why does ego always have to get in the middle?

I was about to say something more when Sachin suddenly got up and walked out of the café. Just after he left, our food arrived. I watched him disappear into the distance, then started eating my momos. I had his chowmein packed, paid the bill, and went home. When I arrived, Anmol asked about the meeting, and I told her everything. She said nothing.

Following that meeting, Sachin stopped speaking to both Anmol and me.

CHAPTER 44

SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS

Two months had passed since our wedding. It was Saturday, and as per my habit, I was reading the newspaper at 8:00 AM. While browsing through the Koseli supplement of Kantipur, my eyes landed on a story. The author was Pujan. His photograph was right there, making him instantly recognizable.

I began to read, and my heart skipped a beat. It was my story—mine and Aarti’s. I was stunned. How could he write this without my permission? Turning the page, I saw an announcement for his book launch, scheduled for that very day at 2:30 PM at Pragya Bhavan. The novel was titled 'Uttarko Khoji' (In Search of an Answer). I decided right then that I had to go. I needed to talk to Pujan. More than the novel itself, I wanted to hear the true story of Aarti and Pujan's relationship. I needed to know what had happened to Aarti after I left for Nepal. Why had he chosen to write about us instead of anyone else? Only he could provide the answers I sought.

I was in such a hurry to leave that I barely noticed the time. Around 1:30 PM, I scrambled to get dressed. Seeing my frantic state, Anmol asked, "Where are you heading off to?"

"Something came up, I have to go. I'll be back soon," I said shortly and bolted out the door.

I arrived at Pragya Bhavan early, around 2:15 PM. The hall wasn't full yet; people were still trickling in. I was desperate to see Pujan. My eyes were glued to my watch, counting the minutes until his arrival. By 3:00 PM, the audience had settled, but Pujan was nowhere to be seen. My impatience grew. Finally, at 3:15 PM, the program began. Pujan had arrived. The presenter began introducing him and discussing the themes of the novel.

Fifteen minutes later, Pujan took the microphone. "Welcome everyone to this book launch, and Namaste," he began. "Regarding this novel, it is a romance, but it leans more toward a thriller than my previous works. Those were purely romantic; this one blends both genres. I have put a lot of hard work and time into this, and I hope it receives much love and success. Thank you."

After his speech, the floor was opened for a Q&A session. I was the first to raise my hand. When the microphone was handed to me, I stood up. Pujan looked visibly shocked to see me in the crowd.

"Does your novel 'Uttarko Khoji' bear any resemblance to real people?" I asked pointedly. "If it does, I assume you sought their permission? What would you do if a character from your book walked up to you and asked why you published their story without their consent?"

He gave a forced, hollow smile. "A story like this could resemble anyone's life," he replied. "This novel is the result of research. The people involved are aware of its contents."

Our eyes locked. My mind was swirling with questions, but his answer was dismissive and unsatisfactory. I didn't care if the rest of the audience was satisfied; to me, his response was nonsense. I was dying to catch him one-on-one.

The program ended at 6:00 PM. People rushed toward the exits, and in the chaos, I lost sight of Pujan. I searched and waited for forty-five minutes, but he was gone. Still, I held onto the hope that I would encounter him somewhere again. Resigned, I bought a copy of 'Uttarko Khoji' and walked out of the hall.

CHAPTER 45

THE SCRIPT OF A TRAGEDY

I started reading the novel the very day I bought it. Only the names had been changed. As the story progressed, the secrets began to unravel. Page by page, I discovered the horrific end: that Aarti had committed suicide and Pujan had left her after learning the truth.

I felt like I was losing my mind. Had I truly been the cause of Aarti’s destruction? I was desperate to meet Pujan just once. I needed to know the truth—did Aarti really take her own life, or was this just a plot point in his book?

After finishing the novel, I opened Facebook to message him, only to find he had blocked me. I searched for his contact details and eventually found an email address printed in the book. I sent him a message:

Pujan, I want to meet you. We have a lot to talk about.

I sent the email, but Pujan didn't reply. Two weeks passed in silence. Driven by desperation, I went to the publishing house that released 'Uttarko Khoji'. At first, they refused to give me any information, but after a lot of persuasion and effort, they finally provided his address and phone number.

Once I had his details, the next challenge was how to actually get him to meet me. He would recognize my voice instantly. I began by stalking him again, tracking his movements and learning his routine.

After days of following him, I finally called. He didn't pick up at first. It took three consecutive calls before he finally answered.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello. Who is this?" I asked, though I knew.

"I’m looking for you," I said.

"Who are you?"

"This is Amit Dahal speaking. I want to meet you."

The moment I said my name, he hung up. I was furious. Despite the rage boiling inside me, I composed myself and sent him a text message:

I will meet you at Roadhouse Cafe, Boudha, at 5:30 PM today. Come there. I will be waiting for you.

I sent the text, but there was no reply. I felt a sense of unease; something felt wrong. My anger was peaking, but I finished my work and headed to Boudha anyway. I rushed into Roadhouse Cafe and scanned the room, but Pujan was nowhere to be seen. I checked my watch: it was already 6:15 PM.

I wondered if he had come and left already, or if he was simply stuck in a traffic jam. I took a seat in a corner and decided to wait. Half an hour passed, but Pujan never showed up. I tried calling him, but his phone was switched off. Defeated and fuming, I walked out of the cafe.

CHAPTER 46

THE SILENT WALL

Anmol and I were in our room. I was buried in the novel while Anmol sat watching me. After a while, she broke the silence. "Amit?"

"Yes?" I answered, my eyes never leaving the pages.

"What has happened to you lately?"

"Nothing has happened," I replied, still not looking at her.

"Something has happened. You've started talking to me less and less. More than that, you're spending all your time outside the house. If something is wrong, tell me. Are you having an affair?"

I placed the novel on the table and finally looked at her. "Nothing like that is going on. I’m not having an affair. But when the time is right, I will tell you everything."

A heavy silence filled the room. I couldn't tell if she believed me or not, but a new fear began to gnaw at me: what if she found out the truth from someone else before I could tell her? I tried to reassure myself that whatever is meant to happen will happen. I picked up 'Uttarko Khoji' again. I had already read it three times; this was my fourth. During this reading, an idea struck me, and I sent a message to Pujan:

If you refuse to meet me, I will expose the truth about you to everyone. I don't care about my reputation anymore. I know exactly who your novel is about, and you wrote it without my permission. I can sue you if I want to. I will be at Roadhouse, Boudha, tomorrow at 6:30 PM. I expect you to be there.

I sent the message, but there was no reply. I couldn't understand what he was trying to do. I was bewildered and grew suspicious that he would stand me up again.

The next day, I finished my work and rushed to Boudha. I reached the cafe by 6:00 PM and scanned the area, but he wasn't there. I waited for a long time, but he never showed up. At 8:00 PM, I finally left. He hadn't answered my calls or replied to my texts. I had no answers. My mind felt numb. I didn't even know what was happening to my own life anymore.

I reached home at 8:30 PM. Anmol opened the door and immediately asked, "Why didn't you pick up my calls?"

"Sorry," I muttered and walked past her.

She followed me inside. "Where do you go lately without waiting for me at the office? You come home so late. When you're this late and give me so little time, I can't help but suspect you're having an affair. What is actually going on?" She was visibly angry.

I ignored her, lost in my own world. She stood close to me, waiting for an answer. I changed my clothes and lay down on the bed. She sat beside me and spoke again.

"Why won't you answer me? You aren't the person you used to be. You've stopped caring about your home and family. You barely speak. Your life is entirely outside these walls now. What happened? I need to know. When you come home like this every evening, a thousand questions run through my mind. Your behavior makes me doubt everything. Tell me what's in your heart."

I remained silent. I just stayed there, lying on the bed, ready to sleep. Anmol stared at me, looking completely fed up. My silence left her helpless. This was becoming a daily occurrence. My parents had no idea about the tension between us, and Pujan still refused to acknowledge me. He wouldn't pick up the phone, and he wouldn't send a message.

CHAPTER 47

THE VERDICT OF THE PAST

It was Saturday, and I had resumed my stalking of Pujan. I followed him from the moment he left for his morning walk at Mandi Park until he returned home. I waited, hidden, for hours. Finally, at 6:08 PM, he emerged, and I trailed his motorcycle to Hotel Annapurna in Durbar Marg. He sat in a corner; I took a seat where I could watch him without being seen. After twenty minutes, I approached him. He was reading a book.

I sat down and said, "Hello."

Pujan looked up from his book, stunned to see me. He set the book on the table. "You... here?"

"Yes, me. You clearly didn't want to meet me, so I came to you. You kept running; I kept following."

"Why are you stalking me?"

"I had no other choice. I needed to meet you. I need my answers."

A heavy silence fell between us. His face betrayed a deep reluctance to speak; he kept glancing around as if looking for an exit. Finally, losing my patience, I snapped, "Why are you silent? Say something!"

He looked at me with eyes full of resentment. "What is there to say to you? You destroyed everyone’s lives. You ruined yours, and you took ours down with you. Because of you, Aarti’s life was destroyed. And because of you, I destroyed whatever was left of it."

"What happened to Aarti?" I whispered.

"After you raped her," Pujan began, his voice trembling, "she stopped seeing me for days. I called her endlessly, but she never picked up. Eventually, I went to her apartment, but she wasn't there. I was losing my mind. Finally, I called Surakshya."

Pujan recounted his conversation with Surakshya. She had been silent on the phone, her voice cold. Sensing something was wrong, Pujan had rushed to Surakshya’s apartment. When he arrived, the atmosphere was funereal. Surakshya led him to a bedroom where Aarti lay under a quilt. When she saw Pujan, she didn't speak; she simply wept and turned away, hiding her face.

"I was furious and confused," Pujan told me. "I demanded the truth from Surakshya, and when she finally told me everything... I felt like the sky had fallen. I left that apartment in a trance. For two weeks, I didn't call Aarti. I didn't know how to handle the truth. I ignored her."

Pujan’s voice grew darker. "Two weeks later, Aarti called me. I was at a friend's house. I chose not to pick up. She called again and again, but I refused. A month later, on a Saturday morning, she showed up at my door. She looked hollow. She asked if she could come in. We sat on the sofa in silence until she asked why I was avoiding her, why I was angry."

Pujan admitted to her then: "I have no words. Surakshya told me everything. How can I marry you now? My reputation will be stained. What will I tell my parents? If I tell them the girl I love was raped multiple times, they will reject us. Society will mock me as the 'husband of a rape victim.' I have a status in Nepal. I cannot accept you."

Aarti had looked at him with tear-filled eyes and said, "You never loved me. You don't understand my pain. You aren't worthy of my love." She had walked out of his apartment, sobbing.

"I was planning my return to Nepal," Pujan continued. "Two days before I left, Surakshya called me repeatedly. I ignored her. Then, four days before my flight, she showed up at my door, screaming at me. She told me Aarti had committed suicide."

"What?" I stood up, my heart stopping.

"Yes," Pujan said, standing up to face me. "Surakshya told me that after Aarti left my place that day, she was shattered. She had wanted to tell me the truth sooner but was paralyzed by fear. You, Amit—you blackmailed her every single day. Her mind was fragile. She lost her strength. She blamed herself for 'losing' me. Surakshya told me that if I had just held her hand instead of worrying about my 'reputation' and 'society,' Aarti would be alive today. She died blaming herself so that I wouldn't have to carry the guilt. But now, I carry it every day. That is my punishment: to live in her memory and her loss."

Hearing this, a wave of agony and horror washed over me. It was me. It was all because of me. I felt a surge of rage toward Pujan—I wanted to kill him for abandoning her—but my rage toward myself was a thousand times stronger. I had loved her obsessively, and that "love" had killed her. If I hadn't blackmailed her, if I hadn't forced myself on her, she would still be breathing. My "mad love" had turned everyone’s life into ashes.

I couldn't say a word. Tears streamed down my face. I walked out of the hotel into the night.

I couldn't sleep. Aarti’s face was everywhere—in the shadows of the room, behind my eyelids. I remembered every moment from the day I first saw her to the last time I touched her. I had never given her a single moment of genuine happiness; I had only given her pain. My soul felt like it was being torn apart. I loathed myself.

CHAPTER 48

THE STOLEN VENGEANCE

I had mostly stopped staying at home. My rage wasn't just directed at myself anymore; it was aimed at Pujan. He was to blame, too. He was the reason she chose to take her own life. I was consumed by a hunger for revenge, but I didn't know how to execute it. I knew my heart would never find peace until I killed him. Every waking moment, my mind fixated on nothing but his death.

I became restless. I began formulating plans on how to end his life, scouring the internet for methods that would look like a "natural death." I spent two weeks gathering ideas from crime films and series, meticulously organizing every detail. All that was left was to catch him. Since I had stalked him before, I knew his routine, but I didn't want to take any risks, so I started following him again.

This time, however, something was different. I didn't see him come out of his house at all. At first, I assumed he was just staying in, but after several days of no activity, suspicion began to take root.

It was Saturday morning, around 8:00 AM. I went to his house, but the gates were locked from the outside. Where could he have gone? I dialed his number, but his phone was switched off. While I was standing there, a neighbor noticed me.

"Who are you looking for?" the man asked.

"I’m a friend of Pujan’s," I lied. "He asked me to meet him here, but he isn't picking up my calls."

The man looked at me with a strange expression. "You don't know about Pujan?"

"No... what happened to him?"

"Pujan committed suicide," the man said bluntly. "He took his life three days ago."

"What?" I gasped, stunned.

"Why? How?" I stammered.

"Who knows? No one knows why he did it. He was such a good man. I never would have imagined he’d do something like that."

I left the area without saying another word. My plan had failed. He had killed himself before I could do it. I had wanted to end him with my own hands, but that chance was gone. The peace I sought vanished, replaced by a growing turmoil. I felt like I was truly going mad.

The mystery of Pujan’s suicide left my soul restless. I understood why Aarti did it, but the question of why Pujan followed her haunted my mind incessantly.

CHAPTER 49

THE DEAD MAN’S MANUSCRIPT

I had already arranged for a duplicate key to Pujan’s house. I didn't have the original, but I had taken a photo of the lock and showed it to a locksmith. Initially, he refused, but after I tempted him with some extra money, he agreed. He made it in no time. I was relieved; he handed it over on Saturday. I was in a frantic hurry for morning to arrive. My mind was full of questions, and I believed I would find the answers tomorrow. Pujan’s room surely held some secrets.

The following day was Sunday. I left my house in Chabahil at 7:30 AM under the pretext of a morning walk. I caught a bus and reached Kalanki in about 40 minutes. From the Kalanki Bhat-Bhateni, it took me only five minutes to reach Pujan’s house. I scanned the surroundings; there was no one in sight. I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

I began searching everywhere. I found nothing in the bedroom, so I moved to the library. There were countless books, and alongside them, several diaries. I stuffed the diaries into my bag. I searched for anything else of significance but found nothing, so I headed back home.

Once home, I freshened up and ate. Immediately after lunch, I retreated to my room, locked the door, and sat on the bed. I began flipping through the diaries. I ignored the earlier entries and focused on the more recent ones, specifically looking for the days leading up to his suicide. Finally, I turned to the very last page. It looked like it was written just days before he died. I began to read:

"I am fed up with life. I have no desire to live. Deep down, I am consumed by regret. My heart is heavy; peace has abandoned me. I have no will to do anything. Since Aarti’s suicide, a restlessness has taken over my soul. I gave Amit’s punishment to Aarti. It was because of my mistake that she took her own life. Not a day goes by where she doesn't appear in my dreams. In every dream, I see her weeping. I see her calling out to me. I am suffocating. I grow weaker every day. That is why I am taking my own life. I am committing suicide, and in doing so, I am leaving Amit behind to face himself.

I have already deleted all records of the conversations between us. Let Amit discover what it truly feels like to live with restlessness and regret. Let him realize the magnitude of his sins. Amit will suffer every single day. Just as I am taking my life in this state of agony, I want Amit to feel the crushing weight of his guilt."

After reading this, I was speechless. What was I to do? Because of me, Pujan had lost his life. Now, the agony began to take hold of me. Where should I go? What should I do? I had destroyed my own life, I had destroyed his, and in the process, I was destroying my family too. If my family ever finds out the truth about me, what will become of me?

CHAPTER 50

THE EMPTY CHAIR

Anmol woke up at 6:30 AM and found the bed empty. At first, she assumed I was in the bathroom, but I wasn't there either. She searched the house, but I was nowhere to be found. She figured this was just another part of my daily "drama" and tried not to overthink it. She expected me to return by evening, but the day passed and I didn't come home. She called my phone repeatedly, but she was unsuccessful; I had switched it off. I had left the house, though my family didn't know it yet. I had written a letter and left it on the table, but it hadn't caught her eye yet.

I didn't return that day. Initially, Anmol didn't worry too much, but when my phone remained off and I didn't show up at the office, panic began to set in. She asked our colleagues about me, but no one knew anything.

When I hadn't appeared at home or work for three days, she began to spiral into fear. It wasn't just her; my father and mother were equally distressed. My mother was the most worried of all. She eventually went to Anmol.

"Anmol?" she asked.

"Yes, Muma?" Anmol was sitting on the bed, looking desolate.

My mother sat beside her. "Did you and Amit have a fight? Did he say something to you?"

Looking at my mother, Anmol replied, "Muma, we didn't fight. But his mind was filled with things he never shared. I asked him so many times, but he never opened up. He would come home late constantly and stay silent when I questioned him. He would leave the office without waiting for me and never told me where he went. He said he’d tell me when the time was right, but he never did. I was stunned by how much his behavior had changed. I tried so hard to understand what was in his heart, but I failed."

A heavy silence fell between them. They could only look at each other, unable to find the words to bridge the gap. Anmol still hadn't discovered my letter. Her mind was a whirlwind of unanswered questions and tension.

A week passed since I had left home. I was in a mental asylum. My mental state was rapidly deteriorating. Following the suicides of Aarti and Pujan, I had slowly become someone else. I had started rambling incoherently; I began talking to myself—a habit Anmol had noticed and mentioned to me before.

CHAPTER 51

THE CONFESSION

Two weeks had passed without any sign of me, and the tension at home had reached a breaking point. While my parents were distraught, it was Anmol who carried the heaviest burden. She was exhausted from trying to answer their endless questions. She still knew nothing of my past, and up until that moment, she hadn't found my letter.

She was lying on the bed, lost in thought. As she glanced around the room, her eyes fell upon the copy of 'Uttarko Khoji'.

"I saw Amit holding this so many times," she murmured. She began to read. As she turned the pages, she felt as if she were reading Amit’s own story. He had never shared his past or his "love story" with her, and now she finally began to understand why he had read this particular novel over and over again. She finished the entire book in a single day.

"Could this story really be Amit's? Did he leave anything else behind in the house?" Driven by a sudden realization, she got up and began searching every corner of the room. Finally, her eyes landed on the bedside table. There sat the letter. With trembling hands, she began to read:

 Anmol,

There are many things in my heart that I never expressed to my family or to you. If you wonder why I read 'Uttarko Khoji' so many times, it’s because it is my own story. I loved Aarti, but it was entirely one-sided. I could never forget her. She went to America, and I followed. I met her there, but her answer remained a rejection. Later, I met Pujan in a bar—the man who wrote this novel. we became friends, and I told him everything. Later, he and Aarti fell in love. I saw them together, and I couldn't bear it. Pujan eventually revealed everything. I blackmailed Aarti every day. I had compromising photos and videos of her, and I forced myself on her daily.

I used Shiva just to try and forget Aarti, but on our wedding day, I abandoned her and fled to Nepal. Then I met you. When I saw you, you reminded me of Aarti. That is the only reason I married you. But even after marrying you, the memory of Aarti never stopped haunting me.

Later, I saw the announcement for the book launch and went there hoping to find Pujan. I searched for him desperately and eventually tracked him down. It was from him that I learned Aarti had committed suicide—because of me. I could never truly have her. And then, Pujan committed suicide too. Both of them are dead because of me. I am consumed by regret. That is why I am leaving you. I am going far away so that I can no longer cause you any harm. I am not worthy of forgiveness. I cannot forgive myself. I don't even know where I am going.

If you can, forgive me.

Amit

After reading it, Anmol showed the letter to my parents. They were stunned. My mother was more devastated than my father. She had always loved me more deeply; my father used to say she spoiled me with her affection. She had raised me with such tenderness.

Tears streaming down her face, my mother cried out, "Where could my boy have gone?"

My father turned to her and said sternly, "After what he has done, let him go wherever he wants. If Amit ever returns, I will not let him step foot in this house. I will kick him out. I am not worried about my son—I am worried about Anmol." He looked at Anmol, who remained frozen in silence.

Meanwhile, I was in a mental asylum, constantly chanting Aarti's name. I scrawled her name all over the walls. The people around me watched in bewilderment. My family still has no idea that I am here. This is the punishment for my sins, and I must face it alone.

CHAPTER 52

THE FINAL RECKONING: NEW YORK & NEPAL

New York, USA It was a Saturday. Pujan and Aarti stood by the edge of the ocean, watching the waves. After a long silence, Aarti looked at Pujan and said, "You have given me so much happiness. You understood me and stood by me. If it wasn't for you, I would have committed suicide long ago. Your love saved me."

Pujan looked at her tenderly. "I knew Amit was stalking me. That’s why I went to Nepal. According to our plan, he followed me exactly as expected. He trailed me for days before we finally 'met.' I told him everything but made him believe you had killed yourself. I laid all the blame on him. I even had the neighbor tell him I had committed suicide when he came to my house. I staged the police scene and planted the fake diaries. I made sure he carried the guilt of our 'deaths.'"

"By now," Pujan continued, "he must be drowning in regret. He must finally feel the weight of his sins. He never truly loved you, Aarti; it was just madness. He had many failed relationships before you. Now, he is finally facing his punishment. Amit will suffer every single day."

"When I first told you about his blackmail and the assault, and you initially rejected me, I thought you didn't understand my situation," Aarti recalled. "I was lost in your memory for so long, thinking you’d never come back. I started believing all men were the same. I had lost all faith and love—especially my faith in you. But when you came back to apologize, I decided to give us a chance. Today, I am so happy."

"I made a huge mistake back then," Pujan admitted. "It was only after losing you that I realized the depth of my love. I realized none of it was your fault. To leave you would have been to abandon my own heart. You loved me truly; that’s why you told me the truth when you could have easily hidden it. I will always stand by you. I love you deeply."

The two smiled, watching the sunrise together. Bound by trust and love, they began their life anew.

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Life is a strange thing. Sometimes we don't get what we want, and we receive exactly what we never asked for. Most surprisingly, the person we think is "ours" never truly belongs to us, and the one we never expected becomes our everything. If we always got what we wanted, the world would be full of joy and void of pain. In my life, I loved, but I failed because of my own actions. I broke her heart.

In my story, the pattern was clear: I liked Aarti, but she didn't like me. Shiva and Anmol liked me, but I didn't care for them; I only projected my anger onto them. I thought Aarti was mine, but she never saw me that way. I couldn't even be a good friend to her because she found me "abnormal" and "strange." She often asked me to be normal, but I couldn't. I teased and joked with her, not out of malice, but because I loved her more than myself. Even though I thought she had left this world, I never forgot her.

I wanted her by my side through every sorrow and joy, but I drove her away. She never truly accepted me in her heart. I wanted to ask her—was I really that bad? Was I truly that abnormal? I wanted to tell her that I was fine as I was, but I could have changed for her if she had truly accepted me. Her silence hurt me; I only ever wanted her smile and her happiness.

Life is like a movie. Sometimes I feel my story followed that script. In movies, there is a hero who loves many, but then one person changes his life. He has to lose everything to find true love. He understands the meaning of love through loss.

But I never understood the meaning of love. I only showed stubbornness and insanity. Because of my madness, I destroyed the lives of my family, Pujan, Aarti, and Anmol. I never respected my life, my family, or the concept of love.

I have been released from the asylum, but I cannot go back to my family. I don't know what happened during these past three years. I don't know how Anmol is living, or what my parents are doing. Perhaps my parents married her off, treating her like their own daughter. They likely haven't forgiven me for my sins. They shouldn't.

I am out of the asylum, but I have nowhere to go. I am consumed by regret every day. Where do I go? There is no path left for me. I wander aimlessly, wanting only one last chance to ask for everyone's forgiveness.

Pujan and Aarti got married. They are very happy now and have a three-month-old daughter. They are building a golden future, leaving the past behind. Pujan received a PhD scholarship in English, and Aarti opened her own successful beauty parlor after completing her training. They moved to a new part of New York to start fresh. They haven't returned to Nepal since their marriage, fearing a chance encounter with Amit. They decided to stay in America to keep their lives safe and peaceful.

While Pujan and Aarti were happy in their world, Anmol found peace too. Amit’s parents treated her like their own daughter and arranged her marriage to a doctor. Initially, she refused, but eventually, she agreed. She has been married for a year now. She left her old office—even though the boss begged her to stay—because the memories of Amit were too painful. In the beginning, it was hard; people would constantly ask about Amit and gossip. She used to hide and cry, realizing she never truly knew what was in the heart of the man she thought would build a world with her.

Now, she is happy. Her husband shares everything with her, and she does the same. Amit’s parents, however, live in deep regret over their son’s actions. His mother, especially, cries every day while looking at his photo. Her heart is full of pain and unanswered questions. She wishes she could meet him just once to ask, "Why did you do this?" She is still searching for an answer.

As for Shiva, after Amit left, she could never love anyone else. She was devastated when he abandoned her. The truth was, the reason she had pushed so hard for the wedding was that she was pregnant. She was three months pregnant during the month they were supposed to marry. She was so happy, but Amit left before she could tell him. She cried bitterly, but realizing the child was innocent, she gave birth to a son. She named him Amit. The boy looks exactly like his father. Looking at his face is the only thing that gives her peace; her son is her only reason to keep living.