Karma's Knock

The chill of the terrace seeped into Gāyathri’s bones as she watched her grandfather disappear into the faint darkness, another morning beginning its relentless cycle without her parents. The sounds from downstairs – the clanging of pots, the murmur of voices – felt alien, a cruel mockery of the normalcy that had been ripped away.

Two weeks. Two weeks since the argument, the screech of tires, the shattering of glass, and the endless fall into darkness. Two weeks since she awoke to a world without them. The guilt of her last words gnawed at her, a constant companion to the physical pain of her injuries and the emotional turmoil that raged within.

The soft, hesitant rap on the terrace door signaled her uncle's presence, another person seemingly unaffected. Below, her aunt’s familiar routine continued, a stark contrast to the emptiness that consumed Gāyathri. She ached for the normalcy of a few weeks ago, even the arguments seemed preferable to this suffocating silence.

Later, downstairs, a bath left her exhausted and frustrated by her helplessness. Struggling with her clothes, she was interrupted by her aunt, who, despite a moment of silent disapproval, helped her dress. As they shared a quiet breakfast, a knock on the front door shattered the fragile peace, signaling an unexpected arrival that would change everything.