8.The last time

Kabir's pov

"Ira."

I said her name softly.

The silence on the other side of the line stretched long. Then came a breath. Shaky. Unsure.

"…Kabir?" she whispered.

Her voice.

The same voice that had once felt like home.

Now it felt like a wound reopening.

"I'm sorry for calling like this," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I won't take long. I just… wanted to talk to you. One last time."

She didn't reply.

The room behind her was silent. No background noise. No voices. She was alone.

Good.

"I know today's your engagement," I said, my throat tightening. "You're going to be someone else's… officially. And I get it."

Still no answer.

I looked down at my hand. It was shaking.

"But before that… can I see you once?" I asked, voice low. "Just for ten minutes. That's all I'm asking."

"Why now?" she finally said. Quietly. "Why today?"

"Because I knew I wouldn't get another chance," I lied gently. "And I won't try again after this. I promise."

I said it softly.

But I didn't mean a word of it.

Because I was never going to let her go.

There was silence again.

A long pause where my heart refused to beat.

Then, finally—

"…Where?"

I blinked.

"You'll come?"

"I said where, not yes," she snapped. "But… fine. Ten minutes. That's all."

I swallowed hard.

"There's a temple near your house. Hanuman Mandir, the one on the small hill, remember? It's quiet. No one goes there much now."

"Okay," she said.

And cut the call.

---

I sat still in my car, parked just outside the temple gates.

The same temple where I used to wait for her during her morning walks.

It hadn't changed much. A few new plants. A fresh coat of paint. But the same peace lingered.

I stepped out of the car.

The wind was cooler here. The sky slightly overcast.

And somewhere in the air, I could smell incense sticks.

I walked slowly up the temple stairs.

Each step took me back.

Back to a time when everything was different.

When she was mine.

---

Flashback

We were sitting in a private theatre in Mumbai.

The lights were off. The screen glowed with soft colors.

Some cheesy romantic film. I wasn't paying attention.

I was paying attention to her.

Her fingers were curled into mine. She leaned into my shoulder, laughing at something on the screen.

Then came the wedding scene in the movie.

The couple stood in front of a mandap. Fire crackled. Vows were exchanged. The bride cried happy tears.

Ira sighed beside me.

I looked down at her.

"What?" I asked.

She smiled dreamily. "It's so beautiful."

"You like weddings?"

"Of course I do!" she said, turning to face me fully. "Who doesn't? I've planned mine since I was a kid."

I chuckled. "Tell me then. How do you want it to be?"

Her eyes lit up.

"I want a grand wedding," she said, eyes shining. "Traditional, colorful, loud. Full of people — cousins, uncles, aunts, friends… everyone. I want to wear a red lehenga. And I want it to happen in front of my parents, in front of gods… with all the rituals done properly."

She looked so hopeful.

So full of dreams.

"And you?" she asked, nudging me with her elbow. "What's your dream wedding like?"

I looked at her.

Took a second.

Then said, "I just want to tie a mangalsutra around your neck. That's it. Nothing else matters."

Her eyes widened.

Then she laughed.

"Ayeee, no! That's not how weddings work!" she said, pouting. "You can't just skip everything and put a mangalsutra on me!"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because!" she said dramatically. "I want dhol. I want haldi, mehendi, pheras. I want to cry during bidaai!"

"You'll cry anyway," I teased.

She smacked my arm and leaned her head on my shoulder again.

"Idiot," she mumbled.

But her smile didn't fade.

---

Back to present

I smiled faintly at the memory.

That moment stayed with me.

It had felt so real, so certain back then.

But now…

I stood in the temple, looking around.

The priest was murmuring mantras in a corner. Two old women sat near the bell, eyes closed in prayer.

But other than that — it was empty.

Just me.

And a thousand memories.

I moved to the inner sanctum and folded my hands, not really praying. Just… thinking.

This was not the wedding she had dreamed of.

And whose fault was that?

---

Mumbai.

The city where everything fell apart.

I met her there after four years.

She was smiling. Living.

Without me.

I thought I could handle it.

But the moment I saw her again — laughing with her friends in that bookstore — something in me snapped.

I wanted her back.

Not wanted. Needed.

But she had changed.

She said she didn't want to be with me anymore.

She said I scared her.

That I crossed boundaries.

That I wasn't the same Kabir anymore.

Maybe I wasn't.

Maybe I had loved her so much that it turned into obsession.

Maybe I had waited so long, it turned into madness.

But she was mine.

And I was hers.

Wasn't I?

---

I sat down on the steps of the temple.

Closed my eyes.

She was coming.

Any minute now.

Would she look the same?

Would she still smell like sandalwood and jasmine?

Would she still bite her lower lip when nervous?

I didn't know.

But I would see her.

---

I pulled out a small cloth from my pocket. Inside it was the photo I always kept hidden.

Ira.

Wearing a yellow dress.

Her hair was tied in a messy bun, her earrings swaying. She wasn't looking at the camera — she was looking away, mid-laugh.

It was my favorite photo.

She didn't know I had clicked it.

I stared at it now.

Tracing her face with my thumb.

My Ira.

The one who used to call me after every class.

The one who cried when I once got into a fight.

The one who used to say, "calm down , kabir." every time I lost my temper.

That line came back to me.

Clear as a bell.

"calm down, kabir. Not evrything needs your rage."

I clenched the cloth in my hand.

I tried to change.

I tried to be better.

But she still left.

Still moved on.

Still found someone else.

Aarav.

Even his name made my jaw tighten.

He was giving her the wedding she wanted.

Grand. Traditional. Happy.

But was she truly happy?

Or was she just pretending?

Could she ever truly be happy… without me?

---

I stood up.

Paced a little.

My heart was racing now.

She would be here any second.

I didn't know what I was going to say.

Maybe I'd apologize.

Maybe I'd ask her to come back.

Maybe I'd just look at her and say nothing at all.

But I had to see her.

Before someone else put a ring on her finger.

Before someone else walked beside her under a canopy of flowers.

Before someone else became her forever.

---

A part of me still hoped.

Hoped that when she saw me, something would change.

Hoped she'd remember what we had.

What we could still have.

But another part of me… a darker one…

Knew something else.

Knew that Ira wasn't getting her dream wedding.

Not today.

Not anymore.

Not with someone else.

Because dreams?

They were meant to be broken.

And rewritten.

---

End of Chapter 8