But Meera was crying now. Silent tears. “Aren’t they? We’ve been sleepwalking toward every single one of these, Mihir. The late nights. The ‘I’m fine’ when you’re not. The way you stopped asking me about my dreams.”
And one text message, from a number neither of them recognized: meera mihir latest
Behind her, Mihir stirred on the creaky bed. “Still no signal?” But Meera was crying now
Mihir grabbed her wrist. “Ignore it. It’s a trick of the altitude, the gas from the marshes—” just enough to let them leave.
“It’s wrong,” Meera replied. “Look closer.”
That night, the fog thinned. And the lights came.
And the mist above Jatinga cleared, just enough to let them leave.