Chapter Three: Waiting Places

The phone vibrated on the bedside table.

Ranjith woke instantly. Midnight sharpened the senses. He didn’t need to check the time before reaching for it.

Atul: Job done.

Item disposed of securely.

Ranjith stared at the screen for a moment. No rush. No emotion. Just confirmation.

He typed a single reply.

He placed the phone back down and lay staring at the ceiling.

Marriage came to him easily in his imagination. Athulya waking early, hair loosely tied, moving quietly through the house. His mother approving. Neighbours admiring. A wife who would learn when to speak and when silence was devotion. A life ordered, respectable, unquestioned.

His phone buzzed again.

Athulya: I’m leaving home now.

I’m really scared.

Ranjith sat up.

Ranjith: “It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”

Keep me updated. If you need anything, I’m here.

The reply came almost immediately.

Athulya: Thank you for being there for me.

He smiled faintly.

Without waking anyone, Ranjith slipped out, keys in hand. The Pajero responded softly as he pulled onto the road, headlights off until he reached the main stretch. The town slept. He didn’t.

He parked a block away from the bus stand and walked the rest of the distance. Chose a spot where shadows gathered naturally, where faces blurred. From there, he could see everything.

Athulya stood near the platform, phone clutched tightly in her hand. She kept checking the time. Then the road. Then the phone again.

1:45 a.m.

No Aakash.

Ranjith watched her frustration build, minute by minute. He felt no hurry. Fifteen minutes passed. Then ten more.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Aakash’s phone.

First, he made sure.

He waited until Athulya’s name lit up the screen—missed call.

Good.

He switched the phone off calmly, stepped closer to the road, and tossed it onto the roof of a passing interstate lorry. It disappeared into the dark with a dull metallic sound.

He returned to his place.

By 2:15, Athulya was visibly unraveling. She paced. She stopped. She wiped at her eyes angrily, as if refusing to cry.

Ranjith dialed her number.

She straightened instantly before answering.

“Hello?” Her voice was controlled, but thin.

“Is everything alright?” he asked gently.

There was a pause.

“No,” she said. “There’s no sign of him. He’s not picking up.”

Ranjith let concern colour his voice.

“That’s strange. Don’t worry. I’m nearby. It’s not safe for you to be alone there this late.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll come,” he said. “I’ll leave once he arrives.”

When he stepped into the light, Athulya saw him and rushed forward, panic finally breaking through.

“What if something happened to him?” she said, hugging him tightly.

“It’s okay,” Ranjith said, resting a hand on her back. “We’ll wait.”

They waited.

Minutes stretched into hours. The bus stand emptied and filled again. By 3:30 a.m., Athulya had gone quiet. No tears now. Just a hollow stillness. Acceptance settling in painfully.

Ranjith watched it happen and said nothing until they returned to the car.

“I’ll drop you home,” he said.

She nodded.

As they drove, he spoke carefully, softly.

“This is the sad reality of modern dating,” he said. “People promise things they can’t keep.”

She stared out the window.

“I hope,” he continued, “you find the strength to move on from someone like him. And please—don’t take any foolish decisions. Don’t hurt yourself over a man who couldn’t even show up.”

She swallowed.

“I won’t,” she said. “I’ll move on.”

After a pause, she added quietly, “Thank you. For everything.”

He dropped her home and watched until she was safely inside.

Then he drove on.

Ranjith lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him as the road opened up ahead. The night felt lighter now. Cleared.

Everything had gone exactly as planned.

He smiled and pressed the accelerator.