Change was a strange thing.

In some people, it flickered slowly, like a shadow creeping in from behind. In others, it came crashing all at once, sudden and consuming.

As for me; I had felt a change at almost every stage of my life.

I had accepted it, made peace with it, and understood it. But this...

This was unlike anything I had ever known. This was a change that slammed into my life like a violent gust of wind, upturning everything in its path in a single breath.

Could someone really change so much that every thought, every belief, every principle inside them was washed clean, replaced with something entirely new? No, I didn't think that was possible.

If anyone had asked me that before, I would have laughed it off—dismissed it without a second thought.

But when I found myself standing at that strange, irreversible turn in my life, how could I have denied it?

Yes, I had fallen in love.

It hadn't happened overnight; it had been slow, quiet and steady, but the feeling... the feeling was overwhelming. There was no doubt about that.

Yet, there was something about this love, some force in it, which was strong enough to strip away even the most unshakable principles I had built my life on.

It was pushing me, no, pulling me, towards a place where I had never allowed myself to go before.

I had never been so weak for someone. Never so willing to forget myself for another.

But this girl, whom I had known for barely three or four months, whom I had loved with a quiet madness, whose body and soul I had intertwined my own with, for her, I was ready to forget everything, question my beliefs and do what she would want me to do.

If required, I would have erased the entire world to get her back the way she was before. Nothing and no one else mattered anymore.

This change, this complete surrender to another human being, told me something I never wanted to admit.

I was capable of going deeper than I had ever thought possible. Deeper than I'd ever dared. And now that I was here, I had no wish to turn back.

I wanted to stay.

I wanted to lose myself in her, completely, irrevocably, until I could no longer tell where she ended and where I began.

Perhaps this was meant to happen. The universe had strange ways to make one realise. 

The drive back from the doctor's home was quiet.

Last evening, I remembered, when I had turned away unable to watch Shumi suffer, my eyes had darted down to the street from the window of Dr Adinath's chamber. I had heard but had never witness such a deep tragedy before.

What else should I call it? Women who put on a smile, suppressing their grief, and openly auctioned themselves there every day—how can that be described as anything other than a tragedy?

While inside the room Shumi's raw, helpless screams tore through my chest, outside the pretend laughter of the women clearly showed how Sonagachi breathed in its own brutal rhythm every night.

As the dusk slipped in quietly, neon lights flickered awake one by one. Women leaning against railings, doorways, and windows framed by peeling paint and cracked glass; bangles clinked, bargains began, laughter rose in a practiced ritual. There was nothing hushed, whatever happened, it happened with guts.

I watched innocence being traded for survival, desire-crushing dignity without remorse all while behind me, Shumi screamed.

Her scream was so different yet born out of a similar lust. Down there, women were broken by men's lust; here, Shumi was breaking under a woman's obsession. One woman's twisted longing had chosen her body as its battlefield.

I realised then how violence wore many faces, how purity died whether it was sold under red lights or stolen by something far darker.

But now, a fresh morning. For us, but not for the women of Sonagachi. 

The lane was in a slumber, drowsy, still in it's winter comfort, a little past six. Unlike last night or around dawn, the sky had started to clear out, washing off its gloomy grey tone and now started to be shaded in the hues of refreshing blue.

Kettles hissing, mud cups getting washed and the aroma of boiling milk came from the tea stalls a little away from the sleeping lane. While the city was awake, the neighbourhood was fast asleep.

As we left Dr Adinath's chambers I noticed few men queuing in nearby lanes washing teeth with neem sticks and I couldn't help but notice that as I drove the city shifted around me.

Shumi and I were alone in my car while the others were with dada in the SUV. While aunt Kakali insisted on being with Shumi, dada, like always, stood up for me and said we both needed this time.

She sat beside me, her head resting lightly against the window. I watched her as the calm settled over me as well.

The tight lanes, tangled wires and old houses of north Kolkata slipped past in fragments. Near Sealdah, rickshaws creaked past, vendors arranged vegetables on carts, and stray dogs still slept curled near closed shutters. Somehow, the mundane had begun to resume at its normal pace.

"Aaj notun provat jaage..."

I had switched on the radio at a very low volume, but enough to cut off the silence inside the car. The Rabindra Sangeet that spoke of a new morning, new beginnings, was somehow the soothing balm we were looking for. 

I had also kept the windows down just to let the city's morning noise wash away the tragedies of the night. It was too much noise, but felt good, grounded and alive.

The city looked restless and crowded in a way that never paused to breathe. I realised it mirrored what I had been for so long—chaotic, cluttered with noise inside my head, carrying too many thoughts, too many fears, all hustling for space.

And that chaos, the terror, the nights that never seemed to end... it was finally behind.

The calm and dignified aura of the south reminded me of Shumi, as she had always been the subtle but undeniable presence in my life. Even at her weakest, there was a softness in her, a quiet order that didn't demand attention but settled in without asking.

By the time I reached Ballygunge and continued further south, the roads had widened, and the chaos had thinned. With its wider stretches, quieter corners, and a strange, unhurried calm, the quaint neighbourhoods of the south remained too proud to mix with the mundane.

Unlike the north's easy blending nature.

But all I could feel was lighter and clearer.

It was gone. 

The thick, suffocating air, the desperation, haunting, had all passed.

The hour-long drive as I neared our society felt like returning to something familiar, something I hadn't realised I'd been craving.

I didn't know how our life would be beyond this point, but right then, I could finally exhale.

The chaos I carried didn't disappear all at once, but it had started to fade away, and I felt myself relax. I felt like I had survived while the city I hated so much watched, silently and patiently, with only one reminder that no matter how hard the chaos was, it always finds its calm.

"Ved..."

I turned to see Shumi sitting up, blinking. Her eyes; it took me a moment to notice that her eyes were back to the innocent and lovable black. I let my brother drive past me as I kept the speed slow. He nodded once, and I kept my focus on Shumi. Eager to hear her talk.

Finally.

"I'm starving," she mumbled.

I frowned, didn't know how I should have reacted, so I simply went along. "Okay. What do you want to eat?" I hurriedly asked.

"Umm... Korean?"

I hit the brakes.

Not hard enough to jerk her forward, but abrupt enough for the car to come to a startled halt on the empty morning road. I kept staring at Shumi, my fingers frozen around the steering wheel, my mind refusing to process what I had just heard.

Korean. She wanted to eat Korean food.

My chest tightened, then cracked.

For days, she was unable to swallow even a spoonful of rice. She had turned her face away from food, retched at the smell of her favourites, gone hollow and distant while I stood helplessly beside her. So yes, hearing her want to eat her favourite cuisine, I didn't know how to accept it.

On impulse, I had unbuckled my seatbelt, stepped out of the car and rushed, letting my legs move before my thoughts could catch up as I rounded the car and reached her side.

I flung the door open while she looked at me, confused, worried almost, her brows knitting together. "Ved...?"

I dropped to my knees with a sigh.

Right there on the road, beside the open car door, I kneeled and clasped her hand in both of mine, holding it for dear life.

She was no longer cold. 

Her hands in my clasp felt so warm...gentle and soft, different from the lifeless cold I had been holding onto for so long. 

She felt so alive under my touch, and the moment her fingers curled around mine, my insides snapped, completely giving way.

I bent forward, resting my forehead against her lap, my grip tightening as the sob tore out of me before I could stop it. Escaped like a raw, ugly and uncontrollable relief.

I cried, releasing every night of fear, every prayer whispered in silence, every second of watching her slip that had been stored in me waiting to break free.

She wanted to eat. She was starving. She was finally back.

I cried harder, my shoulders shaking, my breath coming apart in my chest. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. Words were useless against the relief flooding through me, against the overwhelming gratitude of the moment.

"Ved...?" she called again, softer this time, unsure.

I lifted my head slowly. Tears streamed down my face, my mouth trembled despite the smile trying desperately to form. 

I must have looked ridiculous—red-eyed, broken, smiling and crying—but I didn't care.

I stood up and pulled her into a tight hug, forgetting her body was still recovering. Nothing mattered, only the fact that I was able to hold her while my emotions were all over the place, overpowering my senses. 

I buried my face in her hair and breathed in her scent, the same vanilla and coconut, accepting the fact that she was here; she indeed was real.

When I finally pulled back, she was smiling. Small. Fragile, but the same content smile.

I nodded, wiping my face with the back of my hand, laughing softly through the tears.
"Sure," I said, my voice thick but relieved. My tiredness morphed into a bright and lively joy. Oh, how I longed for her to get her appetite back. "Let's stop by a good Korean joint."

"No," Shumi shook her head, looking into my eyes, "I love the ones you cook."

I just stared at her.

"Say it again..." My heart skipped a beat, but this time with the warmth of the light spreading inside me. The happiness that pumped through my veins implied that this was the moment I had been craving without even realising it.

Not the end of that horrified shadow over her, not explanations and answers. Just this. 

Her choosing comfort. 

Her choosing me.

I grinned. I couldn't help it. 

It started deep in my chest and spread all the way to my lips. "I'll make a complete spread for you," I said, laughing softly. "Whatever you want to eat."

She smiled. A full, soft, sleepy smile. It was the most beautiful thing I had seen in days.

While I was busy looking in her eyes, she frowned, glancing down at my pal,m and her fingers stopped mid-movement. I felt her gaze linger on the burn mark. A stubborn, circular reminder of Gayatri's other attempt to hurt Shumi branded into me.

I tried to pull my hand back on instinct. But Shumi didn't let me.

Her thumb hovered above the mark, not touching, as if she was afraid to hurt me more.

"I did this, didn't I?" she whispered.

"No!" I shook my head. Though the memory flashed in my mind, I shoved it back, refusing to even think about it for a second. "No, Shumi, you didn't do it."

She stared at me but didn't say anything, and after a while, I watched her reach out for the small tube on the dashboard. It was the ointment Nadira had handed me with the instruction to apply twice a day on the scratches on my arms.

I kept watching as Shumi uncapped the tube, and soon the smell hit me. A herbal, bitter smell.

She squeezed a little onto her finger and began to apply it first to the burned mark. Her hands were still trembling, but she tried.

When the ointment touched my palm, I sucked in a breath. It was cool at first, then warm, sinking in slowly. She spread it carefully. Her touch was apologetic, though it need not have been.

Every small circle she drew felt so satisfying.

I watched her face instead of my hand.

Her brows were drawn together, eyes lowered, lashes casting shadows. This was the girl I had fallen for. Innocent and caring, too much, for her own good.

"I'm sorry," she said again, barely audible.

The ointment slid into the scratches along my wrist. Her thumb paused there, then traced my skin again. Each place she touched felt awakened.

Something twisted in my chest. A sense of being seen by her, not as her saviour or her cousin's victim, but as someone who had been hurt as well.

I closed my fingers slowly around hers, not tight enough to trap, just enough to let her know I was still here.

"Nothing matters more than you," I said, closing my lips over hers.

"What? Where are you going?" my brother's voice, confused and worried, boomed from the other end of the line as soon as I informed them we weren't coming back to the society. At least not now.

I had taken the decision on a whim, but Shumi had agreed, hence other opinions didn't exactly matter.

"I am taking her to my home, where she belongs." I said with zero remorse. I knew what I was doing and also knew the consequences I might face but just the way she needed space, so did I.

I might sound cruel but we didn't have the bandwidth to think about a bunch of concerned relatives and neighbours. They could wait. Us? We – couldn't.

"Being the reckless second child again?" My brother sighed. "You do realise that your girlfriend has a mother who always worries and an aunt who is always angry? The combination can be lethal." He reminded. Sarcastically, yes, but I knew it was a vivid truth.

"I know you will take care of them...and perhaps it is you who needs time with them, not me. Nor Shumi."

My brother didn't speak for a moment then I heard him scoff.

"Fine. I'll cover. Go."

I felt at peace. For the first time in days, maybe weeks. Quiet, undisturbed peace.

We were going home. 

I was taking Shumi, home. 

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