For several seconds after the call ended, I just stood there staring at my phone.
The screen slowly faded to black in my hand.
But my father's words stayed behind.
"Some memories are better left alone."
A cold uneasiness settled heavily inside my chest.
Meera stepped out of the convenience store holding two water bottles. The moment she saw my expression, her smile disappeared slightly.
"What happened?"
I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
"My father called."
Something unreadable crossed her face instantly.
Not fear exactly.
More like tension.
"What did he say?"
I looked toward the road before answering quietly.
"He told me to stop digging into the accident."
The evening wind moved through the silent space between us.
Cars passed nearby, headlights reflecting against wet streets while distant thunder rolled above the city again.
Meera lowered her gaze.
For the first time since meeting her, she looked genuinely exhausted.
As if she had been carrying something heavy for years.
"He always hated me," she said softly.
I frowned immediately.
"What?"
She gave a weak laugh without humor.
"Maybe hate is too strong." She looked away toward the station across the street. "But he definitely didn't want me near you."
"That makes no sense."
"It didn't to me either."
Something about the sadness in her voice made my chest tighten painfully again.
I studied her carefully.
The dark circles under her eyes.
The way she wrapped both hands around the water bottle even though she wasn't drinking it.
The exhaustion she kept trying to hide behind small smiles.
Suddenly, she didn't feel mysterious anymore.
She felt lonely.
That realization hurt more than it should have.
"When was the last time we talked before today?" I asked quietly.
Meera stayed silent for a moment.
Then—
"The night of the accident."
A strange pressure started building slowly inside my head again.
Rain.
Station lights.
Her crying.
Fragments kept circling just beyond reach.
"We fought that night, didn't we?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Why would you think that?"
"I don't know." I pressed my fingers against my temple. "Every memory feels… emotional. Not peaceful."
Meera looked down at the pavement.
Then she nodded once.
"Yes."
The answer hit harder than expected.
"About what?"
This time she hesitated longer.
Finally, she spoke quietly.
"You wanted to leave the city."
The words stunned me completely.
"What?"
"You got a job offer overseas after college." Her voice remained calm, but her eyes didn't. "You were supposed to leave two days later."
I stared at her.
None of this sounded familiar.
And yet—
Deep inside, something twisted painfully.
"You didn't want me to go."
"No." A sad smile appeared briefly. "I wanted you to stay selfishly."
A strange ache spread through my chest.
"What happened after that?"
Meera inhaled slowly.
"We argued at the station." Her fingers tightened around the bottle again. "You said leaving was the right decision. I said some people aren't meant to disappear from each other's lives."
Her voice almost broke near the end.
The station behind us suddenly felt heavier.
Like the walls themselves remembered something terrible.
"And then?" I asked carefully.
Before she could answer—
A train screeched loudly across the tracks nearby.
The sound hit my mind like a blade.
Suddenly—
Another memory exploded inside my head.
Rain pouring violently.
Meera grabbing my hand desperately.
My father standing nearby shouting something angrily.
And me yelling back—
"She matters to me!"
The flash vanished instantly.
I stumbled backward sharply.
"Arjun!"
Meera caught my arm before I lost balance.
The moment she touched me, another fragment appeared.
Hospital lights.
My father's voice.
"You need to forget her."
My breathing stopped completely.
I pulled away instinctively, staring at nothing.
No.
No, that couldn't be right.
Could it?
Meera looked terrified now.
"What did you remember?"
I tried speaking, but my throat suddenly felt dry.
"My father…" I whispered slowly. "He told me to forget you."
Silence.
Real silence.
Even the sounds of the station seemed distant now.
Meera closed her eyes briefly.
And somehow—
That reaction hurt worse than if she had denied it.
"You knew," I said quietly.
Tears gathered in her eyes again.
"I didn't want you to remember it like this."
Anger mixed with confusion inside me.
"Why would he do that?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
The words came out harsher than intended.
Meera flinched slightly.
Instant regret hit me immediately.
But exhaustion and frustration had already taken over.
"Everyone keeps acting like I'm too fragile to hear the truth," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Meanwhile I'm walking around feeling like parts of my own life belong to someone else."
Meera stayed quiet.
That silence only made the pressure inside me worse.
"I need answers."
"And I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?"
This time, her composure finally cracked.
"From yourself."
The words stunned me.
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
Meera looked away immediately.
But it was too late.
The fear in her expression had already changed everything.
Before I could question her again, heavy rain suddenly began falling across the station.
People rushed for cover instantly while cold wind swept through the platform.
Meera stepped backward slightly beneath the shelter roof.
And suddenly—
Another memory surfaced.
Not fragmented this time.
Clear.
Painfully clear.
Meera crying in the rain that night.
My father grabbing my shoulder aggressively.
And my own voice shouting—
"You don't understand! She's pregnant!"
The world around me stopped.
My heartbeat vanished.
Rain crashed loudly around us while the memory replayed over and over inside my mind.
Pregnant.
I looked at Meera slowly.
She had gone pale.
As if she already knew exactly what I had remembered.
My voice barely came out.
"…Meera?"