Three days.
That's how long it had been since Vikram walked out of that hospital room without looking back.
Three days since Isha's world became a 5x5 square of her bedroom ceiling.
Three days since she'd eaten a full meal.
Three days since the word "Vikram" stopped being a name and became a knife.
But on the fourth day, Isha got up.
Because Sunita Bua came to her house at 6 AM, eyes swollen, voice broken.
*"He's home, beti. He's in Jalandhar. At the Malhotra mansion. He... he asked for his office files. He's going to work from home."*
Work.
He remembered work.
But not her.
Isha didn't ask how Bua knew. She didn't ask if he'd asked about her. She already knew the answer.
She just washed her face, wore the blue kurti he once said made her eyes look like monsoon skies, and left.
*If he won't come to me, I'll go to him.*
*If he doesn't remember, I'll make him remember.*
*One memory at a time.*
---
*Day 1 at Malhotra Mansion:*
The gate was taller than she remembered. Or maybe she'd never stood outside it like this before. Like a stranger. Like a beggar.
The guard recognized her. *"Isha ji? Sahab ne... sahab ne kaha tha koi Isha aaye toh..."* He looked down, uncomfortable. *"Sahab ne mana kiya hai."*
He forbade her.
He actually told the guards to stop her.
Isha's throat closed up, but she smiled. A broken, terrible smile. *"Bas ye letter de dena unko. Please chacha."*
It was a note. One line.
_You fell off the terrace for me in 8th grade. Check your eyebrow. -I_
She stood across the road all day. Under the gulmohar tree. The same kind they had in school.
Vikram didn't come out.
But at 7 PM, a light turned on in the upstairs room. His room.
She went home with hope.
---
*Day 2:*
She was back at 8 AM.
This time with a kite. A small, blue paper kite. The kind kids fly.
She didn't try the gate. She just stood across the road and flew it. High. Higher. Until it danced right outside his window.
For 6 hours.
Her arms burned. Her feet ached. The sun beat down.
At 3 PM, the curtain in his room moved.
For one second, she saw him.
He was on a call, frowning at some file. He glanced out the window, saw the kite, saw _her_.
His frown deepened.
He didn't wave.
He didn't smile.
He just pulled the curtain shut. Hard.
But he saw her.
That was enough.
---
*Day 3:*
She brought chai. In a flask. His chai. Adrak, elaichi, thodi si chini. The way he liked it.
She gave it to the guard. *"Bas kehna... Isha ne banayi hai. Peeke dekh le. Shayad yaad aa jaye."*
The guard went in. Came out 10 minutes later with the flask. Untouched.
*"Sahab ne kehlaaya hai... unko coffee pasand hai. Chai nahi peete."*
Coffee.
Since when?
Vikram hated coffee. He said it tasted like burnt regret.
Isha took the flask back. Her hands weren't shaking. That was worse. Numb was worse than pain.
She still stood there till evening.
He didn't come out.
---
*Day 4: Today.*
She wasn't across the road anymore.
She was at the gate.
Because she saw his car leaving. Black Mercedes. Tinted windows.
She ran. She actually ran behind the car for half a block before her lungs gave out and she collapsed on the pavement, knees scraped, blue kurti dusty.
The car didn't stop.
Why would it?
She was just _some woman_ causing a scene. Again.
So she waited. 4 hours.
And the car came back.
This time, she was ready. She stepped directly in front of the gate as it opened.
The Mercedes stopped. The driver honked. Once.
The back window rolled down an inch.
Isha's heart leapt into her throat. She scrambled up, limping to the window. *"Vikram! Vikram it's me! Please, just two minutes! I won't—"*
*"Enough."*
His voice cut through her like ice.
The window rolled down fully. And there he was.
Vikram Malhotra. Hair perfect. Shirt crisp. Eyes... cold. Angry. Not blank anymore. _Angry_.
*"What do you want?"* He didn't yell. That would've been better. He was calm. Deadly calm. The way CEO Vikram Malhotra talked to employees who messed up. *"For four days you've been outside my house. My guards told me. About the letter. The kite. The tea."* He spat the word _tea_ like it disgusted him. *"I checked with my mother. She says you're... someone from my past. Someone I apparently knew."*
_Someone I apparently knew._
*"Vikram, please,"* Isha choked out. Tears she promised she wouldn't cry started anyway. *"I'm not just someone. I'm Isha. You loved me. You said you'd marry me after college. You said—"*
*"I DON'T!"*
He did yell now. The sound made the driver flinch.
*"I don't remember! And I don't care!"* He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated. *"Do you know what it's like? Waking up and having your mother, your doctor, and now some... some girl... tell you stories about your life? Stories you don't remember? Stories that don't feel real?"*
He leaned forward, and for the first time, Isha saw something in his eyes.
Pain. Confusion. Fear.
*"You think you're helping me? You're not. You're making it worse. Every time I see you, I get this headache. This pressure. Like my brain is trying to remember something it doesn't want to."* He laughed, but it was a harsh, broken sound. *"Maybe I forgot you for a reason, Isha. Did you ever think of that? Maybe you were bad for me. Maybe I'm better off not knowing you."*
_Maybe I'm better off not knowing you._
Isha staggered back like he'd slapped her.
*"So I'm asking you nicely,"* Vikram continued, his voice going cold again. *"No. I'm telling you. Stop. Stop sending things. Stop flying kites. Stop following my car. Stop standing outside my gate like some... some stalker."*
_Stalker._
*"Because if you don't,"* he said, and now he sounded exactly like the ruthless businessman from the articles she'd read about him, *"I will file a restraining order. My lawyers are very good, Isha. Or... whoever you are. Do we understand each other?"*
The window started rolling up.
Isha couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't even cry anymore.
Restraining order. He would call the police on her.
On _her_.
The window was almost up when she found her voice. Small. Shattered.
*"You said... you said if you fell for me, you'd fall hard."*
The window paused. For one second.
Then Vikram's voice, muffled by the glass: *"Well, I guess I didn't fall hard enough. Because I don't remember falling at all."*
The window shut.
The car drove inside.
The gate closed.
Isha stood there.
Blue kurti dusty.
Knees bleeding.
Heart... gone.
He wasn't just forgetting her.
He was starting to hate her.
And she had done it.
By loving him too much.
By refusing to let go.
She had turned herself into the villain of his story.
599 pieces wasn't enough.
Now she was breaking into dust.
*[Author Note]*
*He told her to stop. Will she?*
*Should she?*
*If this chapter made you angry at Vikram, or if it made you cry for Isha, tell me.*
*200 comments unlock Ch-25: "The Restraining Order"*
*Or... should she finally walk away? Vote in comments.*
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