As usual, 43-year-old Abhijit claimed his spot on the old bench in Central Park. For a decade, his life had been a clockwork ritual: arriving at 5 p.m., settling into the same seat, quietly observing children chase footballs, and heading home at 7. Over the years, the park’s regulars became familiar shadows in his periphery, their faces etched into his memory. Yet, he never crossed the invisible line between them—just exchanged fleeting smiles before slipping back into the solitude of his thoughts.
That bench was more than a habit; it was a lifeline, the very spot where she had left him a decade ago. The memory of their last meeting clung to him: she wore yellow, his favourite colour, her happiness radiant and silent. She held his hand for what felt like forever, wordless but full of meaning. He cherished those minutes, but just as she was about to speak, his phone shattered the silence. He stepped away, thinking it would be brief, never realising that a quick call would stretch into a half-hour that changed everything.
When he returned, heartbreak struck like a thunderclap: her father was pulling her away. He tried to step in, but she silenced him with a gentle finger to her lips, her eyes pleading, “don’t.” She was leaving—truly leaving—and as the space between them widened, she wore a smile unlike any he’d seen before. It was a smile that shattered his heart into fragments, a haunting expression that would echo in his dreams for years to come.
He could not forget that strange smile ever. No phone calls, no messages—not even a single attempt to connect—like she had vanished into thin air. His sense of hope surged every evening at the park, but faded each night as she did not appear. He kept searching for her everywhere and returned to the same bench, the hope within him gradually turning to disappointment as days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years, but she did not come.
In the early years, he clung to hope on that bench, waiting for love’s return. But as time passed without her, hope soured into frustration, which hardened into anger. Now, he came not for love, but driven by a need for closure—begging the universe for one last meeting, desperate to demand answers. Why had she done this? Did soulmate mean nothing? Were her promises empty? He longed to confront her, to release his fury, hoping it would allow him to finally move on and feel alive again. The transition from dreaming to anger weighed on him; he was tired of drifting through life like a ghost.
On the tenth anniversary of their parting, his mind swirled with the same relentless tide of memories. He was ready to abandon the bench forever—enough was enough. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed his left leg, snapping him from his reverie. Assuming it was just an insect bite from the grassy lawn, he glanced down but found nothing. As he stood, disbelief washed over him: a familiar figure was approaching. Shivani was walking toward him.
It was as if time had rewound: she wore yellow, her joy radiant. But even as her cheerful approach should have sparked joy, it only fueled Abhijit’s anger, his feelings sharply shifting from shock to resentment. For a wild moment, he imagined running to her, lashing out, but found himself powerless. When she stopped before him, offering that same beautiful smile, confusion unsettled his anger. She acted as if nothing had changed, as if she had only stepped out for a while. “How are you?” Shivani asked. Abhijit felt his anger dissolve into bewilderment and longing. Why couldn’t he demand answers? All he managed was, “I am doing well in life. How are you?” “I am also good, actually pleased seeing you today, Abhi,” she replied.
Abhi… The sound of his name from her lips unleashed a storm inside him. He wanted to scream that he was not fine, that he had been burning in agony since she left. He had rehearsed his anger, imagining the words he would hurl at her, but as the reality of her presence sank in, he found himself eerily calm. Conflicting emotions tumbled inside him—rage, grief, and aching vulnerability—yet no words could escape. How could she call him Abhi? Why, Shivi, why? You destroyed me, he wanted to shout, but the questions tangled with his longing. Instead, struggling to find his voice, all he managed was, “Where were you for all these years?” Even as he spoke, he wondered why he called her Shivi, mourning the surrender of his anger.
“There are too many people here, Abhi. I live nearby; let’s talk at my home.” She sidestepped his question, inviting him instead, and didn’t wait for his answer before walking away. So she lived close by—he had never known. Had she moved on, built a new life, and now dared to invite him home? Was he to meet her children, greet her husband? He told himself he wouldn’t go, that she had lost all claim to him. Yet, he found himself trailing after her, silent and spellbound, as if under a spell.
She walked on, and he followed. The main road faded into winding lanes, which narrowed with every step. Soon, they left the city’s edge behind, venturing onto a lonely road flanked by farmland. Abhijit’s confusion grew—there were no houses, just distant farmhouses. When they reached a dead end, he finally blurted out, “Where are we, Shivani? Where is your home and family?”
“This is my home, Abhi. I have lived here for the last ten years, alone, without you,” Shivani said, her smile tinged with sorrow. Her words snapped him out of his daze. Horror gripped him as he realised they stood in the heart of a crematorium, flames flickering around them. The truth crashed down: his Shivi no longer belonged to this world. He reached out to hold her, to embrace her, but she slipped through his grasp.
Ten years ago, he was powerless; now, he was powerless once more. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
“You know, Abhi, the day when we met for the last time, I came to say, please marry me. I wanted to be yours forever in every sense. I wanted to say, please take me home. I had significantly less time left, but you got busy on your phone as always”, the soul of Shivani started the revelation.
“Exactly 11 months earlier, I was diagnosed with gastrointestinal cancer. My father came searching for me, as the next day I was scheduled for a crucial surgery. I could not survive the next day.”
“I fought for 11 whole months, but I could not save myself for you” Shivani also had tears in her eyes.
“On the last day, when I was leaving, I was not happy or did not have a sinister smile, as you think. I was having a painful smile, pain, because I knew somewhere that I would never meet you again. Smile, because I had the satisfaction of seeing you one last time” Abhijit was listening with his head down; his words wouldn't come out. In what kind of insensitive, self-centred world has he lived for these many years? His prayers to God to meet Shivani one last time were fulfilled today, but in which form, in which conditions, where he could not bring his Shivi close to his heart.
“I know, Abhi, you think that I left you, but in reality, I could never leave you before my death. You could not see me because of your work, and after my death, you could not feel me because of your anger” Shivani's voice was filled with immense pain.
Suddenly, the rain started as the Lord himself cried with Shivani. Raindrops were pelting down on the tin shade of the crematorium, as if they wanted to tear it and reach Shivani, as if they were God's words of consolation.
“Do you remember, Abhi, you survived that car accident seven years back? It was I who pushed you away from the road. You loved the smell of roses from the bushes behind your bench; you didn't even know that nine years ago, they had removed the roses. You were still smelling the roses because it was coming from me, as I sat on the same bench every day beside you. In the last ten years, whenever you had a fever or a headache, my soul gave you the warmth and comfort. You sneezed, and I asked for blessings. Whenever you were very sad, I used to send butterflies to sit on your hand. Thousands of instances happened, I was always with you in them, I never left you, Abhi, I never left”, Shivani said in a trembling voice.
Abhijit's tears were now dried up; he was looking into the space, clueless. Millions of thoughts churned in his brain, but the words were not ready to come out.
“I could see you sitting on that bench in anger every day. I was also angry every day, but not upon you; I was angry with God for not providing a single opportunity to talk to you. I was also frustrated that I couldn't explain myself to you. Like you, I was also praying to God to give me one chance to answer all of your questions”, the slowly fading soul of Shvani said.
“I don't know what happened today that you could see me at last, and we are here. I can leave now, satisfied that I've given you the answers. Bye, my love, I want to say, I was yours only and I will always be yours.” In disbelief, Abhijit watched the soul of Shivani disintegrate into particles; he could do nothing to stop his Shivi. As always, he was helpless, but this time he could not even muster the courage to say two words— don't go.
He rose from his knees, noticing the encroaching darkness, and felt a new kind of pain: his anger had collapsed inward, transforming into regret. His return to the old bench was no longer driven by hope or longing, but by a need to contend with guilt. Each weary step back was haunted by memories and the realisation that in ten years, he had missed every sign of Shivi’s presence—and, worse, every clue to her fading health during those crucial eleven months.
Now, memories surfaced: Shivani growing weaker, her excuse about losing weight for a college pageant, which he had accepted without question. He had been so absorbed in his patients and conferences that he missed the oddity of her wearing a cap in summer. Why hadn’t he said, “Shivani, I want to play with your hair,” like he used to in the early days?
He realised now that her handwriting in love letters had grown shakier with each note—she was in pain, and he had mistaken it for disinterest. He finally understood why she slipped away to the restroom so often during dinner, returning with a pale face.
Abhijit Prakash Varma, the renowned cardiologist, had missed every sign that his soulmate was fighting a losing battle with cancer. If he couldn’t see her pain in life, how could he sense her presence in death? He was just another materialistic soul, lost in the endless race. How could he ever hope to reach the world of spirits when he was trapped in himself?
He made his way back to the park, moving toward his bench. A small crowd had gathered there. Pushing through, he was stunned by the second most significant shock of his life: he saw himself lying motionless on the ground beside the bench.
The next day, the internet and newspapers were buzzing with one headline: "Famous cardiologist and author Dr Abhijit Prakash Verma was found dead due to a snake bite in Central Park.”
