The Other End Of Red String

A String Across The Room

Because for the first time in a long time, she didn't know what to do.

But then a line echoed like a haunting.
Karishma Singh misses her so much.

Haseena lowered the phone from her ear with trembling fingers, her breaths shallow and uneven.

She sat there, still on the floor, spine against the wall as though she needed something solid to keep herself from collapsing completely. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, staring ahead at nothing in particular.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Until it was a flood.

Her chest heaved, a sob rising - not loud, not dramatic - but raw. Broken. The kind of sound that comes from a place that's been holding too much for too long.

Karishma was looking for her. Even now.

Even when she thought she was dead.

Even when she was sitting across from her every day and didn't know.

She blamed herself for a man's betrayal and still looked for Haseena in someone else's skin.

And Haseena?

She couldn't say a word.

Couldn't reach out.

Couldn't scream that she was right here.

Because of the mission. Because of the lie. Because of the uniform she now wore as someone else.

She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sobs now racking her body. Her shoulders shook with the weight of all the things she wanted to say to Karishma and couldn't.

I'm here. You didn't fail. You didn't break anything.

You're not alone.

But it was all trapped behind silence. Behind duty. Behind disguise.

She curled further into herself, forehead pressing against her knees, as grief, guilt, helplessness, and a searing kind of love-for-a-friend who didn't recognize her - tore through her.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that.

Only that the night was long, and the pain was quiet but endless.

___________________________________________

Later That Morning - At the Thana

The station buzzed with routine. The air, however, was heavier than usual. The sounds of typing, phones ringing, and reports being filed filled the space, but beneath it all ran an undercurrent of quiet tension.

Karishma Singh walked in wearing her uniform, chin raised, posture firm - a soldier's grace and a woman's resilience. Beside her, Pushpa Ji entered with similar stoicism. The two women had decided they couldn't afford time to fall apart. They were officers of the law - duty came before despair.

Inside the cabin, Urmila sat silently, her eyes trained on the cup of tea in front of her but her mind consumed by the woman across the room.

Karishma didn't glance her way. Not even once.

That hurt more than she expected.

From the corner, Santu looked up, concern flickering in his usually cheerful eyes. Cheetah opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, deciding against it. Even Billu, who normally never missed a chance to crack a joke, stayed uncharacteristically quiet.