The bus journey from Varkala to Kozhiyampara felt like traveling backward through time, each kilometer taking Bhavani further from the person she thought she had become and closer to a life that no longer made sense. She sat by the window, watching the familiar landscape of rubber plantations and coconut groves blur past, her reflection ghostlike in the glass—a stranger wearing her face, carrying her shame.
It was Sunday evening, and she was returning exactly when she'd promised Krishnan she would. But the woman stepping off the bus was not the same one who had left the day before. That woman had been in love, full of hope, planning to run away with her perfect romance. This woman carried only questions, lies, and the growing weight of a baby whose father she could no longer pretend to hate.



Write a comment ...