[Priya's POV – Bangalore]
The train slows down as it reaches Bangalore Cant [BNC] station. My heart races not from excitement, but from a storm of emotions crashing inside me. I grip the handle of my suitcase tightly, blinking back tears as the city unfolds outside the window.
I step down from the train, swallowed by a sea of people. I picked up my luggage and started walking towards the exit. It took me 5-6 minutes to find the exit. Then I stood aside and took out my phone from my purse.
The company had promised someone would meet me here. The HR had said, ["Don't worry, our staff will pick you up at the station and take you to your flat."] But there's no signboard with my name. No call. No message.
I tried calling. The line keeps ringing. No answer. Again. Again.
"Why now? Please pick up!" I whisper, pacing near a pillar. I feel small. Out of place. I hug my bag to my chest and try not to cry.
Hours pass. I sat near a tea stall. Then I stand. Then I sit again. My stomach growls, but I don't feel like eating. The city is loud. Fast. Unfamiliar. And I am... alone.
I glance at my phone. "Should I call Ma and tell her I've reached?"
The thought comes like a whisper, then grips tighter.
But... What if Papa picks up? What if he says something I can't unhears? My phone buzzes suddenly, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Aarvee calling.
I wipe my eyes quickly and answer, trying to sound normal. "Hello?"
"Did you reach the flat?" he asks immediately.
I blink. "Wait... how do you even know I've arrived?"
"I tracked your train online, idiot," he says with that familiar teasing tone.
A small laugh slips out before I can stop it. "Ohh. Okay, smart."
"Of course," he says, casually. "You think I'd let my runaway cousin wander around Bangalore without supervision?"
I smile, even though I'm still sitting alone on a cold bench with no clue where I'm going.
"Not at the flat yet," I admit. "I'm still waiting. HR said someone would come pick me up, but..."
"You're still at the station?" His voice sharpens. "It's been hours, Priya."
"I know." I glance at the crowd around me. "No one showed up. I tried calling, but no one's answering."
He sighs on the other end. "These corporate people, yaar... always full of promises. Are you sure it's the right number?"
I nod, even though he can't see. "Yeah. They said they'd send someone. I guess I just have to wait a little longer."
He stays quiet for a second. Then softly, "Be careful. And text me as soon as you reach."
"I will" I say softly.
There's a pause. Then his voice turns gentle. "Did you call Ma? She must be waiting."
My throat tightens again. I look away from the people passing by with bags and families and destinations.
"No," I whisper. "I didn't."
"Why not?"
I stay silent for a moment. Then I finally said it. "What if Papa picks up?"
I swallow hard. "What if he says something I can't unhear? Or... or worse, what if Ma picks up and starts crying, asking me why I haven't reached yet, and why I didn't call sooner... How do I explain this, bhaee [Elder brother]? That I'm sitting here alone for hours because nobody showed up?"
He doesn't say anything for a moment. Just listen. Then sighs.
"Okay," he says calmly. "I get it. You don't have to call right now."
"Can you..." I hesitate. "Can you just call her? Tell her I reached safely. Tell her I'm fine. Please. But don't say I'm still at the station. I don't want her to worry."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Just... lie to her, for now. Make it sound normal."
"Done." His voice is reassuring. "I'll call her and tell her you're settling in. That the company person picked you up and you're at the flat."
"Thank you," I say, almost breaking. "Please don't tell her anything else. I'll call her myself later tonight. When I finally reach."
"You don't have to thank me, stupid," he says. "Just stay safe, okay?"
"I will."
"And call me the moment you're inside the flat."
"I promise." I said.
"Ok then bye" He said "Hmm bye" I replied. Then I disconnected the call.
After a few minutes when the sun dipped low in the sky, painting everything in an orange haze, my phone finally rang and I saw that it was HR's number and without wasting any time I picked up the call.
"Hello?" My voice come like whisper.
"Miss Priya? Sorry we had some internal confusion. Someone is on the way now."
A man's voice, probably the HR manager I've been calling since morning, finally speaks after what feels like forever.
"Hello, Miss Priya?" he repeats, a bit more relaxed this time.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My shoulders drop slightly, like I've been clenching every muscle since I got off that train.
"Okay, Sir," I reply softly. He chuckles lightly on the other end.
Then, he just says, "Don't worry. He'll be there in half an hour."
And the call disconnects.
I stare at my phone screen for a second. Then I gently slap my forehead.
"Hello, Sir? Okay, Sir?" I mock myself under my breath. "Are you stupid, Priya? You didn't even greet him properly. You didn't even say thank you!"
I lower my voice but keep ranting. "God... and he laughed. Of course he laughed. What kind of dumb reply was that? Okay Sir — like a scared intern on her first day..."
I rub my face with both hands and groan.
A man passing by with a huge sack on his back glances at me like I've lost my mind. A couple of aunties nearby raise their eyebrows.
I immediately look away, hugging my bag a little tighter.
"Great," I mutter. "Now random strangers think I'm talking to ghosts."
But I can't help it. My thoughts are louder than my surroundings right now. And honestly, the embarrassment is still better than the nervousness I felt moments ago.
I take a deep breath, wipe my slightly sweaty hands on my kurta, and sit up a little straighter.
"Okay, Priya," I whisper to myself, "you've survived worse. Just... hold on a little more."
An hour later, Just as I'm trying to keep myself from spiraling again, a man in his mis-30 in formal clothes approaches, holding a paper in his hand and scanning the waiting area.
"Miss Priya?" he calls out.
I spring up so fast, I nearly trip over my own bag.
"Yes! I'm Priya," I say, almost too eagerly.
He gives a small nod, looking a little tired but polite. "Apologies, ma'am. There was a mix-up in our internal communication. I was supposed to receive you earlier. Let me help you with your bag."
I hesitate for a second, unsure if I should feel angry, relieved, or just numb. But I nod and hand him my suitcase.
As we walk out of the station, the noise starts to fade behind me, and my stomach begins to churn again. I'm in Bangalore. I'm really here.
He guides me to a cab, gives the driver some instructions in Kannada, and then turns to me.
"The company flat isn't very far. It's just a temporary setup, but it's furnished enough to stay for now. You'll get the keys today itself."
I nod again, quietly.
The ride is awkward. I stare out the window, the city buzzing with life—too fast and too strange compared to my quiet village. My phone buzzes.
Aarvee: Reached?
I replied quickly.
Me: Yeah, in the cab now. Someone from the company picked me up.
Another message comes instantly.
Aarvee: Good. Send me your live location. I want to track where my little sister's disappearing in Bangalore.
I sigh, a small smile creeping onto my lips. He'll never admit it, but he worries more than Ma.
Me: Okay baba, sending it now. Happy?
Aarvee: Very. And don't disappear before telling me you've reached your place.
I send the live location and tuck the phone back into my bag, watching unfamiliar roads blur past the window.
Finally, we pull up outside a narrow building in a quiet lane.
"This is it, ma'am," he says. "You're on the second floor. Only one month's rent is covered by the company, as you know. After that... you'll need to manage. Here's your key."
I take the key and follow him upstairs. The staircase is dimly lit, with peeling walls and the smell of old paint.
He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and gestures for me to go in.
I step inside slowly.
It's small. Smaller than I imagined. One room, a tiny kitchen, and a washroom. There's a single bed in the corner, a steel cupboard, a table with one chair, and a dusty fan hanging from the ceiling.
No curtains. No mirror. No gas connection. Just the basics.
"This is... okay," I say, trying to sound positive.
He smiles faintly. "It's not much, but many of our new joiners start here. Let me know if you need anything else."
I nod and thank him.
Once he leaves, I stand in the middle of the room. Alone.
I place my bag on the bed and sit down slowly.
The silence is heavy. I can hear distant honks from the road, some utensils clanging from another apartment, and the ceiling fan creaking as it begins to spin.
I look around again. This is going to be my home. For now.
Suddenly, the weight of the day, the train journey, the waiting at the station, the awkward phone call, the fear of Papa, Ma's teary face as I left—all of it crashes into me.
I curl up on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Two more days until my joining.
I whisper to myself, "You can do this, Priya."
But I'm not sure if I believe it yet.
It's been three hours since the company guy dropped me here. I've unpacked nothing.
Just sat here on the edge of the bed like a statue, staring at the beige walls and the lonely steel cupboard.
I drank some water from the dusty bottle I found in the kitchen rack. My stomach growled earlier, but the thought of stepping out alone... I just couldn't.
My phone shows 9:34 PM.
I finally dial Aarvee. He picks up on the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Did you call Maa?" My voice is small, Tired.
"Yeah... I did," he says, but his tone shifts, cautious, like he's preparing me.
My heart skips. "What happened?"
He exhales. "You really want to know?"
"I wouldn't call if I didn't," I snapped, more out of fear than irritation.
"Okay okay, listen," he says. "Papa found out early in the morning, around six. I think the sound of Ma crying in the kitchen gave it away."
My heart tightens. "What... Did he do?"
Aarvee sighs, his voice lowering like he's trying to soften the edges of the truth.
"At first... he just stood there. Silent. He kept asking Ma, 'Where is she? When did she go?' like he couldn't believe it. Then he stormed into your room, opened the cupboard, the trunk, like you might still be hiding under a bedsheet."
I swallow hard.
"Then," Aarvee continues, "he just... sat on the bed. Held his head in his hands. For five minutes he didn't say a word. And then he broke."
I stay silent, gripping the phone tighter.
"He said, 'She left without telling me... she was really that afraid of me?' Not angry, Priya. Just... hurt. Like he never thought you'd actually do it."
I close my eyes. "Did he blame Maa?"
"He looked at her, like he wanted to. But Maa she kept her face down, didn't say a word. And no, he doesn't know she helped you. She didn't even cry in front of him. Just stayed quiet."
I whisper, "She protected me again..."
"She always does."
Aarvee sighs. "Uncle eventually got angry, threw your college certificate file on the floor. Said things like, 'This is what education teaches girls? To walk away like strangers?' He's not thinking straight. Not yet."
I feel the tears sting again. "I never wanted to hurt him..."
"I know," Aarvee says gently. "He knows too. But he doesn't know how to deal with this. All his life he's made every decision. You just... made one on your own."
"What about now? Is he calmer?"
"A little. He hasn't spoken to Maa since morning, but he hasn't left the house either. Keep walking out to the courtyard and back. Like he's waiting for someone to bring you home."
"I told her you reached safely," he replies. "She asked me to. I didn't tell her you waited hours at the station. Just that you're okay."
I nod, even though he can't see me.
"And Maa said one more thing," he adds softly.
"What?"
"'Tell Priya she's not alone in this world. Even if she's far away, my heart is with her every second.' That's what she said."
I cover my mouth, but the sob escapes anyway.
"I'll be okay," I whisper through the tears.
"I know you will," he replies. "You already are."
My voice shakes. "Tell Maa... I'll call her."
"Yeah. But not now. He's been checking her phone. Just wait."
I nod, though he can't see me.
There's a long pause.
"You gonna be okay?" he asks.
I glance around the small room. It still feels foreign. But somehow... a little lighter.
"I will be."
"Good. Now stop crying, take a nap, and eat something. And yeah buy a gas cylinder before your joining day. Unless you want to eat biscuits forever."
I laugh. It's small, broken, but real.
"Bye," I murmur.
"Bye, Bangalore girl."
At the very same time, 9:30 PM, back in the quiet village - [Author's POV]
The village lay still under a heavy blanket of darkness. Only a few faint lanterns flickered on distant porches, and the crickets filled the silence with their stubborn chorus. Inside the house, a dim yellow bulb swung from the ceiling, casting long shadows on the walls.
Priya's father sat alone on the chair in the courtyard. He hadn't changed clothes. His kurta was still crumpled from the day before, and his slippers lay kicked off under the chair. A steel glass of water stood untouched beside him, long since gone warm.
He had known it the moment he woke up to the silence of her locked room, unlocked. Empty. Her bag is missing. No footsteps. No bangles clinking. Nothing.
She had left.
Ran away like some stranger, not his daughter.
His throat felt dry as dust, but he didn't drink. The anger was still sitting there, bubbling just under the surface. But it wasn't the kind of anger he was used to. It didn't roar. It just sat, tight and stubborn in the chest. Like betrayal.
The iron gate creaked slightly in the night breeze. Inside the kitchen, his wife hadn't come out since evening. She cooked dinner but didn't serve it. He didn't ask.
Everyone knew.
He leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his face.
"She couldn't even look me in the eyes and say she was going."
"After everything..."
A voice inside him wanted to scream. But it didn't.
Instead, he looked up at the quiet sky and whispered bitterly, "She chose Bangalore over her own house."
His jaw tightened. "For what? A private job? A stranger's city? Who'll look after her there? Who'll protect her if something happens?"
"No one."
He got up suddenly, pacing the narrow courtyard with slow, deliberate steps. He had faced the whole village today, people asking why Priya wasn't seen. Someone had whispered that she took the morning train.
And still, her mother said nothing.
He stopped by the kitchen door. Looked at her, his wife, sitting on the floor, her back to him.
"You knew." His voice was low, flat.
She flinched but didn't deny it.
"I asked you... Did you help her?"
No answer.
His voice broke. "You opened the door, didn't you? You let her go."
She finally turned around, eyes red. "She would've left anyway. I didn't want her to go like that—scared, locked away like a criminal."
He stared at her for a moment.
Then he stepped back, almost stumbling, and went back to the chair.
The silence returned.
But inside his head, it wasn't silent. Inside, there was a voice screaming.
"Why didn't she trust me?"
"Was I really that cruel?"
"I just wanted her safe. Near us. In the village. With people we know."
"Is that such a crime?"
He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. His pride was shattered. His control had slipped. His own daughter had slipped through his fingers like water. And he didn't even know if she is safe.
[9:45 PM]
In a dimly lit flat in Bangalore, Priya sits on her mattress with her knees hugged to her chest. The room is quiet, but her mind isn't. She stares at the bare wall, her phone clutched in her hand, the last call still replaying in her head.
She thinks about her mother's eyes, wet, soft, silently begging her to be careful. She thinks about her father's voice, the thunder she escaped, the silence she now fears more than any slap.
There's no celebration in her chest. Only a storm trying to find a place to rest.
Far away in the village, under a flickering yellow bulb, her father leans forward on the chair, elbows on knees, calloused hands steepled under his chin.
He hasn't said a word in hours.
His pride aches, yes but beneath that, something more raw, the sharp sting of betrayal by the daughter he thought he knew. The pain of not being asked.
The fear that the world will now think he's a man who couldn't "keep his daughter in line."
He doesn't know how to say that he's not just angry.He's scared.For her.For what the city will do to her.For what kind of woman she might come back as.
But all that sits buried beneath his silence.
Two people. Two hearts.
Each thinking of the other.
Each wishing things could've been different.
But for now... both are alone with their thoughts.
And the night goes on.
And somewhere in this city of strangers, a man is just a day away from walking into Priya's story.
.
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To be continued......
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