Three Shadows (concluding part)

As dawn broke over the city, the hospital room remained shrouded in an oppressive silence. The monitors surrounding Raagini’s bed emitted faint, rhythmic beeps, a fragile reminder of the life that clung on. Outside, a new day began for the bustling city, but for those entwined in this tragedy, time seemed to stand still.

In the quiet town, Ashish wandered aimlessly, the salty air stinging his face as waves crashed against jagged rocks. He had stumbled upon a derelict church by the shore, its crumbling walls and broken stained-glass windows a fitting metaphor for his life. Sitting on the cold stone steps, he gazed at the endless sea, lost in thoughts of a love that had once been so full of promise.

When had it all changed? The answer eluded him, but the cracks had begun to show long before Rajat entered their lives. The endless late nights at work, the arguments over trivial things, and the unspoken loneliness that had settled between them like an unwanted guest. He had once loved Raagini with a passion that burned brighter than the sun, but somewhere along the way, their lives had become a series of polite silences and cursory gestures.

Ashish’s thoughts turned to the fateful evening, the images now vivid in his mind. The shock of finding Raagini with Rajat, the argument that had spiraled into chaos, and her desperate act to stop the madness. MIdway into their argument she had gone in the room. Only to return with a gun and point it at her own head. He had acted on instinct, grabbing the gun from her hand, only to see the worst unfold before his eyes.

“I never wanted this,” he whispered to the waves, his voice cracking.

As he stared at the horizon, he felt an eerie calm descend over him. The sea called to him, its infinite depths offering an escape. Ashish stood, his mind made up, and began walking toward the water, each step heavier than the last. The icy waves embraced him, and he let them pull him under, his final thoughts a mix of regret and love.

Rajat sat alone in his darkened apartment, the walls closing in on him. He had not stepped out since the night of the shooting, paralysed by guilt and fear. The memories haunted him—Raagini’s smile when they first met, the spark that had drawn them together, and the chaos that had destroyed everything.

He remembered the art exhibition vividly, the first time he had seen Raagini. She had stood in front of a painting, her head tilted slightly as if trying to decode its mysteries. They had struck up a conversation, bonding over their shared love for art. What began as harmless messages about exhibitions and galleries soon turned into long conversations about life, dreams, and disappointments.

“I should have walked away,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. But he hadn’t. He had stayed, drawn to her in ways he couldn’t explain. She had become his solace, his strength, and he, hers. But the heaviness of their actions now bore down on him like an iron chain.

Rajat’s heart raced as he thought of Raagini lying motionless in the hospital. His chest tightened, and he clutched at it, gasping for air. The guilt was too much. He collapsed onto the bed, his mind filled with memories of her, his last thought, a futile wish to see her smile again.

When the landlord found him the next morning, Rajat’s lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, his hand clutching a photo of Raagini.

At the hospital, Raagini’s condition remained unchanged. The doctors hovered nearby, their faces etched with concern. The two bullets had caused extensive damage, and while they had managed to stabilise her initially, her body was slowly giving up.

Inside the room, the machines continued their relentless beeping. Raagini’s face was serene, as if she were finally at peace. The medical team exchanged glances, knowing there was little more they could do. The inevitable was approaching.

News of Ashish’s disappearance spread quickly. Fishermen found his body washed ashore two days later, his face calm in death. The media had a field day with the story—love, betrayal, and tragedy painted in bold headlines.

When Rajat’s death was discovered, the narrative grew even darker. Speculations ran wild, but the truth remained buried with those who had lived it.

Raagini never woke up. Her body finally gave out, the machines around her falling silent. The doctors pronounced her dead in the early hours of the morning, marking the end of a story that had begun with love and ended in heartbreak.

The apartment where it all began remained empty, a ghostly reminder of the lives that had once filled it. The photographs on the walls were taken down, the furniture sold, and the bloodstains scrubbed away. But the memories lingered, an unshakable part of the city’s history.

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