Neither of us spoke for several seconds after that.
The station had almost emptied now. Only a few tired passengers remained scattered beneath the dim platform lights while rain continued falling steadily outside.
But inside my head—
Everything had become louder.
Too loud.
Because Meera was right.
Nothing about that night made complete sense anymore.
Not the accident.
Not my missing memories.
Not Kabir's version of events.
And definitely not the anonymous messages.
I leaned back against the cold bench slowly, trying to organize the fragments in my mind.
"You said Kabir called you after the crash," I said quietly.
Meera nodded once.
"What exactly did he say?"
Her brows pulled together slightly while trying to remember.
"He sounded panicked." She paused. "I could barely understand him at first."
"Try."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"He kept asking where you were." Her voice softened. "I remember because I got angry. I thought you were already with him."
A strange feeling settled heavily in my stomach.
"That doesn't make sense."
"I know."
Because according to Kabir—
He arrived after the ambulance.
Which meant he shouldn't have known anything yet.
Unless—
Another thought suddenly hit me.
"Did he know we fought that night?"
Meera looked at me carefully.
"Yes."
"How?"
"You called him earlier that evening."
Fragments flashed instantly.
Sitting alone inside my car while rain hammered against the windshield.
My phone pressed against my ear.
Kabir's voice saying—
"Don't drive angry, idiot."
The memory vanished quickly, but this time it left behind something else.
A feeling.
Restlessness.
Like something terrible had already been waiting for me before the crash even happened.
I rubbed my face tiredly.
"I need to talk to him again."
Meera looked uncertain immediately.
"You trust him?"
The question surprised me.
"Kabir's my best friend."
"That's not what I asked."
The hesitation in her voice made me look at her more carefully.
"You think he's hiding something."
"I think everyone is," she admitted quietly.
The honesty in her answer made silence settle heavily between us again.
Rainwater dripped from the edge of the roof in slow, uneven rhythms.
Then suddenly, Meera stood up.
"We should leave."
I frowned slightly.
"What?"
She glanced around the nearly empty station.
"I don't like being here anymore."
For the first time since meeting her, her nervousness looked real enough to affect me too.
Like instinct.
Like some part of her genuinely believed we weren't safe standing there.
Without arguing, I stood up beside her.
The city outside looked washed in silver beneath the rain. Streetlights reflected across wet roads while cold wind moved between buildings.
For a while, neither of us spoke as we walked.
But this silence felt different from before.
Not comfortable.
Heavy.
My mind kept replaying the same questions endlessly.
Why erase my memories?
Why threaten Meera afterward?
And why did the accident story keep changing depending on who told it?
"You're thinking too loudly again," Meera said softly beside me.
I glanced at her.
"That's apparently a thing now?"
"You always get this crease between your eyebrows when you're overwhelmed."
The casual familiarity in her voice hurt unexpectedly.
Because she remembered all these tiny details about me so naturally.
Meanwhile I was still trying to rebuild an entire relationship from broken pieces.
"Did we fight a lot?" I asked suddenly.
Meera blinked slightly at the question.
"No."
"You had to think about that."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"We argued like normal people." She looked ahead while walking. "Mostly about stupid things."
"Like?"
"You forgetting to eat."
I snorted quietly.
"That still sounds accurate."
"And you hated when I read the last page of books first."
"That's psychotic behavior."
She laughed softly.
The sound caught me off guard again.
Not because it was unfamiliar anymore—
But because it felt familiar in a deeper way now.
Like hearing a song tied to an old memory.
For a few seconds, things almost felt normal.
Then her phone vibrated suddenly.
Meera checked the screen.
And immediately froze.
My chest tightened.
"What happened?"
She didn't answer.
Slowly, she turned the phone toward me.
Unknown Number.
You should have let him forget.
A cold wave passed through my entire body.
Another message appeared immediately after.
Next time, he may not survive remembering.
Meera's hands were trembling now.
I grabbed the phone instinctively and looked around the nearly empty street sharply.
But there was nobody paying attention to us.
Just strangers passing beneath umbrellas.
Traffic lights changing silently.
Normal life continuing around us while something underneath it felt dangerously wrong.
"We're going to the police," I said immediately.
"No."
I looked at her in disbelief.
"No?"
"They won't help."
"How do you know that?"
Because her reaction wasn't normal fear anymore.
It was certainty.
Meera looked away.
And suddenly I understood.
"You already tried."
She stayed silent.
That silence answered enough.
"What happened?"
A bitter expression crossed her face briefly.
"They said trauma can create patterns where people start seeing meaning in coincidences." She laughed weakly without humor. "One officer actually suggested therapy."
Anger rose instantly inside me.
"So that's it? They ignored repeated threats?"
"I didn't have proof." She looked exhausted suddenly. "Most numbers became inactive afterward."
I clenched my jaw tightly.
Whoever was behind this knew exactly how to stay invisible.
A car passed nearby, headlights briefly illuminating us both in pale white light.
And suddenly—
Another memory hit.
Not fragmented.
Clear.
A black car parked outside the station that night.
Engine running.
Someone sitting inside watching us argue through the rain-covered windshield.
My breathing stopped.
I froze completely in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Arjun?"
The memory sharpened further.
The driver's face hidden in darkness.
A phone glowing faintly inside the car.
And then—
The car pulling out behind me after I drove away.
My heartbeat became violent.
"It wasn't random," I whispered.
Meera stepped closer immediately.
"What?"
I looked at her slowly, fear spreading through my chest for the first time in years.
"There was a car following me that night."
The color drained from her face instantly.
"What?"
"I remember it now." My voice sounded distant even to myself. "Someone followed me after I left the station."
Rain fell harder again around us.
Cold wind swept through the empty street.
And suddenly—
A black sedan across the road turned its headlights on.
Both of us froze.
The car remained parked silently beneath the rain.
Engine running.
Watching.
Exactly like the memory.