My own voice sounded distant to me.
Unsteady.
Like it belonged to someone else.
Rain poured heavily around the station, crashing against rooftops and train tracks while people hurried past us beneath umbrellas. But none of it felt real anymore.
Only that memory.
Only those words.
She's pregnant.
Meera stood frozen a few feet away from me, her face pale beneath the station lights.
And in that moment—
The silence between us became terrifying.
I stared at her.
Waiting for her to deny it.
To tell me my damaged mind had twisted another memory.
But she didn't.
That was what scared me most.
"…It's true?" I asked quietly.
Meera lowered her eyes.
A sharp pain spread slowly through my chest.
"Oh my God."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Rainwater dripped from the edge of the shelter roof beside us. Somewhere nearby, a train announcement echoed faintly through the station speakers.
Everything sounded distant.
Muted.
Like the world itself had stepped backward.
"You remembered more than I expected," Meera whispered finally.
I laughed once under my breath.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I genuinely didn't know how else to react.
"You were pregnant?"
Her eyes filled slowly with tears again, but this time she didn't look away.
"Yes."
The answer shattered something inside me.
Fragments suddenly connected violently in my head.
The station.
The argument.
My father.
The desperation in Meera's eyes.
And me—
Leaving anyway.
A sick feeling rose in my stomach.
"I left you alone."
"No."
"I forgot you."
"That wasn't your fault."
"Then whose fault was it?"
My voice came out sharper than intended.
People continued moving around us while rain blurred the city lights beyond the platform.
Meera inhaled slowly before speaking again.
"The accident changed everything."
I pressed both hands against my face briefly, trying to steady myself.
"What happened to us after that night?"
Meera stayed silent.
Too silent.
And suddenly—
Fear crawled slowly down my spine.
I looked at her carefully.
"What happened to the baby?"
The question broke her completely.
I saw it immediately.
The way her breathing stopped.
The way pain flashed openly across her face before she tried hiding it again.
That answer alone told me enough.
My chest tightened so painfully I almost couldn't breathe.
"No…"
Meera wiped quickly beneath her eyes, but tears kept falling anyway.
"The doctors said the stress and injuries…" Her voice trembled weakly. "It happened a few weeks after the accident."
For several seconds, I couldn't process the words properly.
It felt unreal.
Like someone else's tragedy.
Not mine.
Not ours.
Another memory flashed suddenly.
Meera laughing softly while placing my hand against her stomach.
My own shocked laughter.
The memory vanished instantly.
I grabbed the railing beside me hard enough for my knuckles to ache.
"I don't remember any of this," I whispered.
And somehow, saying it hurt more than the memories themselves.
Because she remembered everything.
Every happy moment.
Every painful one.
While I had moved through life completely unaware that I had once loved someone enough to build a future with her.
Meera stepped closer carefully.
"Arjun…"
I shook my head immediately.
"No."
She stopped.
"I need a second."
The pressure inside my chest had become unbearable.
Guilt.
Confusion.
Grief for memories I couldn't even fully see yet.
It all crashed together until I couldn't separate one emotion from another anymore.
Rain soaked through the sleeves of my jacket as I stepped farther down the empty platform, trying desperately to breathe normally again.
But another thought suddenly hit me.
I turned back toward her sharply.
"Wait."
Meera looked up.
"You said the accident changed everything."
She nodded slowly.
"Then what actually happened that night?"
For the first time since the conversation began—
Real fear appeared in her eyes.
Not sadness.
Fear.
My stomach twisted instantly.
"…Meera."
She looked away.
And suddenly I understood.
"There's something worse, isn't there?"
Silence.
Thunder rolled above the city.
The station lights flickered faintly against the rain.
Then Meera spoke so quietly I almost didn't hear her.
"You weren't supposed to survive the accident."
The world stopped again.
I stared at her.
"What?"
"The car lost control during the storm." Her voice shook now. "The doctors told your father there was a chance you'd never wake up."
Fragments flashed violently through my head again.
Rain-covered roads.
Bright headlights.
Someone screaming my name.
Glass shattering.
I grabbed my head sharply as pain exploded behind my eyes.
"Arjun!"
"I'm fine."
But I clearly wasn't.
Because another realization was forming slowly inside me.
A terrifying one.
"If the accident was that serious…" I looked at her carefully. "Why does everyone keep saying my injuries were minor?"
Meera went silent again.
And suddenly—
Everything inside me turned cold.
My father lied.
Kabir only knew fragments.
Hospital records were incomplete.
And somehow my memories had disappeared almost selectively.
Not random memories.
Only memories connected to Meera.
I stared at her through the rain.
"…What did they do to me?"
The question broke whatever composure she still had left.
Meera covered her mouth briefly as tears rolled down her face again.
"I didn't know how to tell you."
My heartbeat became painfully slow.
Because deep down—
I already knew.
This wasn't natural memory loss anymore.
Someone had tried to erase her from my life.
Intentionally.
And judging by Meera's expression—
The truth behind it was far worse than I was ready for.