The days after Moon's death blurred into a heavy, endless silence for Jinni.
At Jinni's boarding school, the bright laughter that once echoed through the hallways now felt distant to her, like a memory from another life. She walked slowly through the corridors, her small footsteps soft against the polished floors, her head always lowered.
Children still ran through the playground.
Teachers still called out instructions during classes.
Life at the school continued as it always had.
But for Jinni, everything had changed.
She no longer laughed.
The girl who once watched the world with curious, shining eyes now looked hollow, as if a light inside her had quietly faded.
The teachers noticed it first.
"Jinni," one of them said gently one afternoon, kneeling beside her desk. "Why don't you come play outside with the others?"
Jinni didn't answer.
Her fingers moved slowly across the small wooden desk, tracing invisible shapes as though she were lost somewhere far away.
Her classmates tried too.
One girl offered her chocolates.
Another asked if she wanted to join their game.
But Jinni only shook her head softly each time.
Nothing seemed to reach her anymore.
The hardest moments came at night.
When the dormitory lights went out and the other girls drifted into peaceful sleep, Jinni would lie awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling.
Beside her, curled quietly under the blanket, were Umru and Ummi.
The two small rats had become her only comfort.
She held them gently against her chest, whispering softly as tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Moon would have liked you," she murmured one night, stroking Ummi's tiny head.
Her voice trembled.
"He said every love story deserves a happy ending."
The rats nestled closer to her warmth, their tiny bodies moving softly as if they understood her pain.
But no comfort could erase the memory that haunted her.
Every corner of the school reminded her of him.
The swing in the playground creaked in the wind, and she remembered the first day they met.
The riverbank shimmered under the sun, and she remembered the excitement in Moon's eyes as they searched for Umru.
And the sewer near the forest…
She couldn't even look at that place anymore.
Because every time she did, she saw the moment the rushing water had swallowed him.
The moment he disappeared forever.
Her world had already been fragile.
Now it felt impossible to bear.
—
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a deep shade of purple, Jinni stood quietly on the balcony outside her dormitory room.
The cool evening breeze brushed softly against her face.
She leaned against the metal railing, staring blankly at the trees swaying gently below.
The school grounds were unusually quiet.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang faintly.
But Jinni barely noticed.
Her thoughts drifted again to Moon.
To his laughter.
To the warmth of his voice.
To the promise he had made—to give Umru and Ummi another chance at love.
Her foot shifted slightly.
The metal railing felt cold under her hands.
And then—
Her shoe slipped.
It happened so quickly that there was no time to react.
No cry.
No struggle.
In one silent, sudden moment, Jinni lost her balance.
Her small body fell from the balcony.
And just like that…
The little girl who had longed so deeply for love was gone.
—
The news reached Ishani late that evening.
She was sitting at her small desk in the teachers' quarters, grading notebooks when the school principal knocked urgently on her door.
"Ishani," he said quietly.
Something in his voice made her heart tighten.
"Yes?" she asked, standing up slowly.
The principal hesitated.
Then he spoke the words that shattered her world.
Ishani felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.
Her hands began to tremble violently.
"No…" she whispered, shaking her head. "No, that can't be…"
But the truth stood before her, cold and undeniable.
Jinni was gone.
Her fingers fumbled as she grabbed her phone.
She dialed Ankur's number.
The call connected after what felt like an eternity.
"Hello?" Ankur's voice came from the other side.
Ishani tried to speak.
But the words refused to come out.
"Ankur…" she finally whispered, her voice breaking.
Something in her tone made him immediately tense.
"What happened?"
There was a long pause.
Then she said it.
"Jinni…"
The silence that followed felt endless.
"…she's gone."
—
Ankur and Urvi arrived at the school late that night.
The journey there felt unreal, like a nightmare neither of them could wake from.
When they entered the room where Jinni's body lay, the world seemed to stop.
She looked so small.
So still.
As if she were simply sleeping.
Urvi's legs gave way beneath her.
"No…" she whispered, collapsing beside the bed. "My baby…"
Her hands trembled as she touched Jinni's cold fingers.
Ankur stood frozen.
His eyes stared blankly at his daughter's lifeless face.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then suddenly something inside him shattered.
"This is your fault!"
His voice exploded through the room like thunder.
Urvi looked up in shock.
"You sent her away!" Ankur shouted, his voice raw with pain. "You wanted freedom! You wanted your career!"
Tears streamed down his face.
"And now she's gone forever!"
Urvi's grief twisted into anger.
"You think this is only my fault?" she cried bitterly. "She was at the school where Ishani worked! Why didn't anyone protect her?"
Her trembling finger pointed toward Ishani, who stood nearby, pale and broken.
"You were supposed to look after her!"
The room filled with their accusations, their voices cutting through the air like knives.
Instead of grieving together, they tore each other apart.
And Ishani stood silently between them, her heart heavy with guilt.
—
Returning home felt like entering a tomb.
The once lively house now felt suffocatingly quiet.
Jinni's room remained untouched.
Her toys sat exactly where she had left them.
Her favorite books lay stacked beside her bed.
But the girl who once filled the house with laughter was no longer there.
Meals went uneaten.
Nights passed in restless silence.
Ankur began clinging desperately to Joy.
He followed the little boy everywhere—into the living room, into the garden, even into the kitchen.
If Joy left his sight for even a moment, panic gripped his chest.
At night, he would hold the child close as he slept, terrified that if he let go, Joy might disappear too.
Urvi, however, became a shadow of herself.
She stopped going to work without saying a word to Ankur.
Days passed with her moving silently around the house, taking care of Joy mechanically while her mind remained trapped in endless guilt.
Every time she looked at him, fear stabbed through her heart.
What if she lost him too?
—
One afternoon, Urvi was speaking on the phone while Joy played on the bed behind her.
She turned away for just a moment.
Just one moment.
Suddenly—
Thud.
Urvi spun around.
Joy had slipped from the bed and fallen onto the floor.
Her heart stopped.
"Joy!"
She rushed to him, her hands shaking as she lifted him into her arms.
The little boy blinked in confusion but didn't cry.
He wasn't hurt.
But Urvi broke down completely.
She clutched him tightly against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry," she cried, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry…"
The thought of almost losing him shattered the fragile control she had been holding onto.
That night, she couldn't sleep.
She lay staring at the ceiling while memories flooded her mind.
Jinni's first smile.
The day she was born.
The sound of her laughter echoing through their home.
And then…
The day Urvi had decided to send her to boarding school.
At the time, she had convinced herself it was the best choice.
Now it felt like a curse she would carry forever.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She thought of Ankur.
The man she had once loved deeply.
Now he felt like a stranger—his heart hardened by grief and anger.
She knew he blamed her.
And perhaps he was right.
A terrifying thought crept into her mind.
What if he took Joy away from her too?
What if he believed she didn't deserve to be a mother anymore?
Tears slid silently down her temples.
She hated herself.
For being careless.
For losing Jinni.
For letting her marriage crumble into pieces.
By the time dawn's pale light began creeping through the windows, Urvi had made her decision.
Her hands trembled as she sat at the dining table.
A blank sheet of paper lay before her.
She picked up a pen.
Tears blurred her vision as she began to write.
When she finished, the words on the paper were simple but heavy with sorrow.
I don't deserve you both.
I am sorry for Jinni.
Please don't try to find me.
She placed the note carefully on the table where Ankur would see it.
Then she walked quietly into Joy's room.
The little boy slept peacefully, unaware of the storm surrounding his family.
Urvi knelt beside the bed.
She gently kissed his forehead.
A tear slipped down and landed softly on his cheek.
"Be happy, my love," she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"Your father will protect you."
She stood slowly.
For a moment, she looked toward the bedroom where Ankur slept restlessly.
Then she turned away.
And walked out of the house into the cold morning light.
Her footsteps were quiet.
But her heart felt unbearably heavy.
—
Hours later, Ankur found the note.
He stood frozen in the living room, staring at the trembling words on the paper.
His hands shook as he read them again.
And again.
His chest tightened painfully.
Joy stirred softly in the next room, his small voice murmuring in sleep, completely unaware that his family had just fallen apart.
Ankur slowly sank to the floor.
The house felt emptier than it had ever been.
And the silence that surrounded him now carried the cruel weight of everything he had lost—
His daughter.
His wife.
And the love that had once held their family together.