The Right Wrong Number✨

♡ Chapter - 35 ♡

Arjun exhaled deeply, letting the weight of that line rest in his chest. That evening was strange. So is this one.

And then, the ache returned. His father's voice. The soft baritone that used to guide, scold, and support all in the same sentence. Arjun clenched his jaw.

Home.

That word suddenly felt... too fragile.

How could a place be called home if the one who built it in every brick and prayer was no longer waiting inside?

Vatsal turned back just for a second, stealing a glance through the rearview mirror. Arjun didn't realize how much of his grief was showing on his face, but Vatsal did. Because from standing under the South African sun, holding his cap to the national anthem, and when he'd held his head high with a trophy in hand... and when he had slumped on a swing in his garden in silence—gripping the grass so hard it left green stains on his palm. Broken by the kind of grief that even medals or trophies couldn't heal.

He'd seen him cry, scream, break. And then rise again.

The silence was on the verge of shattering when Arjun's phone buzzed in his pocket. A sharp, familiar vibration. It felt like someone had thrown him a life jacket in the middle of emotional quicksand.

He quickly fished out the phone and saw the name flash.

"Rasmalai Girl ⚡"

Her name lit up on the screen and so did something in his chest. He didn't even realize it, but the corner of his mouth lifted, and then it became a smile—raw, real, and rooted in affection. The kind of smile that knows pain and still chooses joy.

He could still see her face from their first video call—hair a mess, eyes half-closed, and a bowl of rasmalaai in her hand like it was a national treasure. She was messily devouring a bowl of rasmalai, a smear of cream on her upper lip, and zero shame in her eyes.

God, he loved her.

He popped his AirPods in discreetly. No way he was letting Vatsal hear this conversation. Because according to Arjun that man's got a memory like an elephant and sarcasm like Mira which to be fair is... fair.

The moment the call connected, her voice tumbled out like a monsoon waterfall after weeks of drought.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't call earlier. I woke up at 10, took a shower around 11, and since I washed my hair and did my skincare... I fell asleep again. I swear, I get so sleepy, yaar!"

Her voice was a blast of sunlight. Chirpy, chaotic, and exactly what Arjun needed.

He chuckled instantly, warmth seeping into his voice.

"Koi baat nahi... koi baat nahi... Breathe now! Mira breathe..." He said.

There was a pause on the other end, then an embarrassed laugh.

CHUP. HO. JA. MIRA. She probably thought: 'kitna bolti hu mai...' 

But she still asked, without missing a beat.

"Are you free? Like right now? Lunch kiya? Thak gaye honge naa? Aunty kya kar rahi hai?? Bolo na chup kyu ho???"

(Are you free? Like right now? Have you had lunch? You must be tired, right? What is aunty doing?? Tell me why are you quiet???)

Arjun laughed again, deeper this time. The proper, head-tilted, smiling-like-a-fool laugh.  It was the kind of laugh that tasted like relief.

"Tum bolne do tab naa... Tumhare questions are non ending... Main chup hi rahunga naa... Apni pasandida aurat ke aage koi bol sakta hai kyaaaa?"