CHAPTER XLII
"Closer Than Ever, Yet Still So Far"
After what felt like a lifetime wrapped in silence and restless thoughts, the bus finally came to a slow, creaking halt.
Our journey had reached its last stop.
The engine gave one final groan before going still, and everything around us settled into quiet — the kind of quiet that comes right before something important. I stared out the window as the dust swirled beyond the glass, the sun dipping slightly, casting long shadows on the road ahead.
This was it.
We had arrived.
I slowly stood up, my body stiff from the hour-long ride but my heart racing as if I'd just run a marathon. Mahi glanced at me, her voice soft and practical.
> "Sam… you know we'll have to take a taxi from here, right?"
I nodded without looking at her.
> "Yes… I know."
Of course I knew. I had memorized every detail of this place in my head so many times, it felt like déjà vu.
But nothing could have prepared me for actually being here — this close to her.
The three of us stepped off the bus together. The air felt different. Quieter. Heavier.
This was Mon's town.
The same streets she had walked on, the same trees that had watched her grow up. I felt like I was stepping into a page of her story — one I had never been allowed to read until now.
We found a taxi waiting just outside the station. It was old, the paint fading around the edges, but it would do. Without hesitation, I walked toward it, and Mahi followed. Aarvi stayed close, quiet but supportive.
> "To this address," I told the driver, handing him a folded piece of paper.
Mon's address.
Just saying it out loud had my hands trembling.
As the taxi rolled forward, I watched the scenery change — buildings became homes, the streets narrowed, and familiar landmarks from Mon's stories began appearing like forgotten ghosts.
The town wasn't large. It wasn't loud. It wasn't anything extraordinary.
But to me?
It was sacred.
Because it held the girl I hadn't been able to stop thinking about.
Every turn of the wheels brought me closer to her doorstep, and every turn made my heart beat faster — not from excitement, but from fear.
Because what if… after all this, she wasn't ready to see me?
What if I had already become a chapter she had finished reading?
I tried to hold it together, but the emotions were crawling up my spine, tightening in my chest like a vice.
I looked at Mahi, sitting beside me, and for the first time in a long time, I whispered honestly:
> "I don't know if I'm ready."
She placed her hand gently over mine.
> "You don't have to be ready, Sam.
You just have to be real. That's all she ever wanted from you."
And maybe she was right.
Maybe Mon didn't need grand gestures or perfect words.
Maybe she just needed me to show up.
And finally… I had.
We turned down one final street, narrower than the rest, lined with houses that looked like they held a thousand untold stories. The taxi slowed, then came to a stop.
> "We're here," the driver said quietly.
I looked up.
There it was.
Her house.
The place where she had laughed, cried, grown, lived.
And maybe — just maybe — still waited.
I took a deep breath as the door opened.
One step closer to Mon.
And one step closer to the truth.
"The Garden I Wasn't Meant to See"
As we stood in front of Mon's house, the air around me felt heavier than ever. My heart was thudding — each beat louder than the last, as if warning me that something was about to change forever.
Mahi turned to me and said softly, "Sam… I think you should go alone."
I looked at her, a question in my eyes.
She continued gently, "This moment — it's yours and hers. We'll wait nearby, take a walk, maybe explore the park behind the house. You go in… just talk to her."
Aarvi nodded in agreement. "We're right here if you need us, Sam."
I managed a small, nervous smile. "Okay… thank you."
They both walked away — disappearing toward the open ground near the house, leaving me standing there… alone.
It was time.
I turned to face Mon's front door, my hand rising slowly, ready to knock — ready to finally come face-to-face with the girl who'd haunted my thoughts every single day for the last month.
But then… something stopped me.
A sound.
A soft, distant voice… faint, but familiar.
It came from the side of the house — from the backyard area. From the garden Mon once mentioned loving so much.
It was a voice I recognized.
Mon.
Curiosity tugged at me.
Something inside whispered, Go look.
So I turned.
Carefully, silently, I walked along the side of the house, my footsteps almost afraid of the truth they might stumble upon.
And then…
I saw her.
Mon.
There she was — standing in her garden, just like she used to describe it in her stories.
The soft sunlight was catching the strands of her hair. She was smiling… laughing, even.
But the smile wasn't for me.
Because standing beside her… was Ashwin.
And suddenly, the ground beneath my feet felt like it was no longer there.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
My heart didn't just break — it paused.
I didn't call her name.
I didn't take another step.
I just watched.
Mon stood close to him, her eyes soft, her body relaxed — in a way she used to be around me. The familiarity of it hit like a storm. Like I had stumbled into a memory that no longer belonged to me.
She looked… at peace.
And that peace was not because of me.
My throat tightened.
The tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back, forcing myself to breathe. I couldn't cry here — not now, not like this. Not when the truth was staring me in the face.
I was too late.
I had come all this way, carrying questions, carrying guilt, carrying hope.
And maybe… maybe she had already let go.
Maybe her silence wasn't just distance.
Maybe it was closure.
The kind I never got.
And still, I couldn't walk away.
I stood there in the shadow of the garden wall — watching the girl I loved… exist in a world where I no longer did.
> And in that moment, I realized…
> Sometimes, the answers we travel miles for…
Are the ones that break us in the quietest of ways.
To be continued…