It was dark. The sepia lamp was the only fragment of light, and Rajeev had loved it, like the other things that filled the house. Anjali rose from the bed. Her phone lay lifeless—like her dulled senses. Fingers trembling, she dialled the number on the landline.
“Hello,” a gruff voice answered.
It wasn’t Rajeev. It couldn’t be.
“Wrong number,” she muttered, her fingers lingering over the receiver.
“Don’t hang up,” said the man authoritatively.
Her breath warmed the receiver; the silence was haunting.
“I’m sorry,..”
“You disturbed my sleep. Now you stay awake until I say otherwise,” he said.
She almost heard him smirk.
“I wanted to speak to my husband one last time,” she said, sounding cautious.
Rajeev—an ordinary man, living an ordinary life. A little too perfect, expecting the same from his other half. He never struck her or raised his voice. Yet something in him unsettled her. She felt bruised in ways she could never name.
“Are you the grieving wife or the free spirit who wants to make sure he’s really gone?” His words cut through her thoughts.
She paused, her hesitation echoing through the silence.
The final image of Rajeev flickered across her mind. His cold skin and vacant gaze carried the same chill as when he was alive. As the men carried his lifeless form away, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and stared, not a drop of tears leaving her eyes. All the tears were spent when he broke her from within. If anything, she only felt free.
“Did you kill your husband?” the man asked.
“No,” she answered instantly.
“That was quick. But you are happy that he’s gone,” he said.
“I’m at peace,” she said.
“Was he abusive?” he asked.
“I don’t know what he was. He battered my soul, leaving me barely breathing,” she said shakily.
“How did he die?” he asked, his voice raspy.
“Cardiac arrest,” she said, untouched by emotion.
A fleeting moment passed.
Clearing his throat, he whispered, “Did you ever want to kill him?”
“On many occasions,” she said coldly.
“I tried to slip something into his food. But I couldn’t do it,” she revealed.
“You can now live on your terms,” he said, as if he knew the pain she had endured.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Isn’t it a bit late to ask that question? You spilt the beans. But your secret stays with me,” he said, his words uncannily reassuring.
“My baby and I deserve a better life,” she said, caressing her stomach.
He fell silent.
“I will hang up now,” she said, aware that she had revealed more than she had intended.
“Be careful, madam. Next time, don’t go about disclosing the skeletons in your closet. Not everyone is as good as me,” he said.
Her relief disappeared when he added, “Or am I just pretending?”
Before she answered, he said, “Remember, I have your number,” and hung up.
Anxiety washed over her. Rajeev was gone, but the menace remained.
