It had been a week since Samraggi's unexpected kindness in the park, and the tension that had quietly settled between Anup and her had started to unravel in the softest of ways. Every encounter, no matter how brief, seemed to carve a new path for Anup. The days were no longer just a blur of survival; they were moments now. Moments with her. Moments that made him feel—against his better judgment—alive.
But he was still carrying the weight of his past, and it wasn't just the memories that pressed down on him. It was the lie. The lie that had sent him into hiding, the lie that was still waiting to swallow him whole when the truth finally came out.
That afternoon, the air felt heavier than usual, the kind of thick humidity that makes you feel like you're sinking even when standing still. Anup sat at his usual table in the coffee shop, the one he had kept since opening day, staring out at the street as his daughter played with a worn-out toy truck near the door.
She was his anchor.
The sound of footsteps broke through his reverie, and he glanced up, expecting the usual quiet customer who came for a quick cup of coffee before rushing back to their life. But it wasn't just anyone.
It was Samraggi.
Her eyes found his almost immediately, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in her gaze. She didn't look like she was just here for a cup of coffee. There was something more beneath her calm demeanor—something unresolved.
Anup felt a tightness in his chest. His heart began to race, not out of excitement, but out of fear. Fear of the truth being exposed. Fear of what Samraggi might have learned.
Samraggi walked up to his table, pulling out the chair without asking.
"Mind if I sit?" she asked, her voice steady, but Anup could hear the undercurrent of something in it. Something unspoken.
"Of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't have the courage to refuse her, even though he wanted to run.
Samraggi sat down, her hands folded on the table in front of her. She didn't speak at first, just studied him, as if waiting for him to break the silence.
Finally, she spoke. "Anup… you've been quiet with me. More than usual."
He blinked, the weight of her words settling into his bones. His mouth felt dry, and his heart thudded in his chest.
"I don't mean to be," he said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "It's just… I've been trying to keep things simple for Nisha's sake."
Samraggi nodded, her eyes soft but intense. "And for your sake too, I think. You're hiding something, aren't you?"
The words hit him like a hammer. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. How could she know? How could she possibly understand?
"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm not hiding anything."
Her gaze didn't falter. "You know, I've been a doctor for a long time. I've seen people come in and out of my clinic, each carrying their own story. Some are open. Some are closed off. But there's always a story behind the walls they build."
Anup's mind raced, panic twisting inside him. His body froze. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. The truth—his truth—was like a thick, suffocating fog that hovered just beyond his reach.
"You don't have to tell me everything," Samraggi said, her voice softer now, almost like a whisper. "But I think you need to. For you. For her." She nodded toward Nisha, who was still busy playing, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her.
Anup closed his eyes briefly. He had known this moment would come. He had known that eventually, someone would see through the walls he had spent so long building. But to hear it from her… To hear it from her… it felt different. It felt too much.
"Anup," she said, her voice gentle but insistent, "Whatever it is, it's okay. You don't have to carry it alone."
The walls inside him started to crack, just a little. But the truth—it felt so dangerous. If he let it out, would she leave? Would she look at him differently? Would she hate him, like everyone else eventually did? The memories of the lies, the mockery, the isolation all came flooding back. It was easier to stay quiet. It was safer that way.
Finally, he looked at her, his eyes haunted. "I wasn't always Anup." The words escaped him before he could stop them, like water breaking through a dam.
Her eyes softened. "I know," she said quietly. "You're not the man you were before. But you don't have to keep running from the man you were."
His breath hitched.
"I don't want to run," he said hoarsely, his voice shaking. "But I had to… I had to change. I had to leave. The world wouldn't let me be who I was anymore."
Samraggi reached across the table, her fingers brushing his hand lightly, a simple touch that seemed to steady his soul. "I'm not asking you to explain everything. But I want you to know that you're not alone in this. Not anymore."
For a moment, everything felt still. The world paused.
But the truth was out. And in that instant, Anup realized that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth holding onto after all.