The next morning, 8:30 am, Akila, and Hema were getting ready for the search, while Akila was on the way to saidapet metro, her phone blinked ..a notification from Hema “Hey where are you d?” on the way... She texted back …..when she reached the station Hema was already there, with that excitement in her face and a little extra lipstick too …
With a loud hey……. They met … around 9:00 a.m.the usual train arrived, the metro was crowded,. Hema and Akila stood by the door, their earbuds pocketed, eyes sweeping the crowd with each passing station as the train clattered ahead on its tracks.
“Here’s the plan,” Akila whispered, her voice barely audible over the clatter of wheels and chatter. “We’ll check every compartment.you cover the front end , i ill cover the back
Hema nodded, her heart beating a little faster.
At each stop, they leaned out slightly, eyes darting across new passengers. They searched for that familiar presence—the one that had refused to leave Hema’s thoughts ever since she first heard that unforgettable laugh. But stop after stop, coach after coach offered no sign—only strangers and the same blur of passing faces. No warm laugh. No smiling stranger. Only the tired, unreadable faces of people immersed in their mornings—scrolling, staring, yawning. At one point, Hema caught Akila’s eye and offered a small, resigned smile.
“Maybe he’s not here today,” Akila murmured.
“Maybe not,” Hema replied softly, though a flicker of hope still lingered.
When they finally stepped off at their stop, the morning rush swallowed them whole again. The mission had ended, at least for now….they walked towards their office from the metro station, with silence taking over, “its ok d” Akila told Hema breaking the silence, “haann” Hema replied without any expression on her face, even though we couldn't find him, this is cinematic d, I have never done anything this stupid in my entire life, searched for someone who I don't even know if exist ..she laughed, hema with a side look she laughed too…that what you get with me girl..hema replied but still that disappointment never left
Days passed. Then weeks.Hema still boarded the same metro each morning. But her eyes didn’t search anymore—not really.Some mornings, she still wished the laugh would find her again. But all she heard were announcements, coughs, and silence. And life… moved on.
Until it didn’t.
It was a Tuesday afternoon after lunch. She was just settling into her seat beside Akila at work.
Hema was halfway through debugging a stubborn line of code when her phone buzzed.
"Mom calling."She almost ignored it. Almost. but She answered.
“Hema, come home immediately,” her mother’s voice cracked. “There’s been an accident. At the construction site. Your brother—he’s been injured. We’re taking him to the hospital.”
Everything around her slowed. Words struck inside her throat, she was confused, and tears started rolling down her cheeks
“Injured? How bad?”
“We don’t know yet. It’s serious. Please come quickly.”
Her stomach dropped. Fingers numb, she clutched the phone.
Akila, sensing something was wrong, moved beside her. “What happened?”
“My brother… he had an accident at work.”
Her hands trembled.
“I’m coming with you,” Akila said while holding her hands without hesitation.
She informed their manager and flagged an auto-rickshaw. The ride to the hospital was the longest of Hema’s life. She couldn’t stop crying. Her thoughts raced—scenes of childhood fights, shared secrets, teasing over meals. Just that morning, he had stolen a poori from her plate, laughing as she scolded him. Now he was fighting for his life.
The next hours were a blur—
Sirens. medicines, consent forms,
White walls.Antiseptic sting.
Slippery corridors.
Her father stood silent, stiff as stone.
Her mother stood just outside the emergency room, her eyes fixed on the closed doors as though staring hard enough might make them open. Her hands trembling,. Hema was running toward her through the corridor, breathless and wide-eyed, her office ID still hanging around her neck.
“Amma!” the hema called, panic in her voice.
The mother tried to speak but her throat tightened. “What happened?” Hema whispered.
“He met with an accident,” her mother choked out. Her voice broke. Hema guided her to a bench nearby, gently helping her sit. Her fingers twisted the edge of her saree, again and again, a nervous habit from years past.
Her brother lay unconscious in the emergency room—silent, unmoving, surrounded by machines that beeped and blinked with mechanical indifference. Tubes ran in and out of his fragile form, winding around him like a cruel maze, as if the doctors were trying to piece together a riddle that refused to be solved. Wires clung to his chest, his arms, even his face, tracing patterns she didn’t understand, but each one felt like a thread tying him tenuously to life.
His face was swollen, bruised beyond recognition. The bridge of his nose was misshapen, one eye hidden beneath a blossoming purple shadow. Stitches peeked out from his brow like a rough patch on torn fabric. His once expressive face—the one that could light up a room with a grin or dissolve her annoyance with a smirk—was now still and unfamiliar.
His right arm rested in a makeshift splint,His leg, too, was wrapped and suspended, a metal rod pinned into place to hold the broken bones steady. He looked delicate—so breakable. The same boy who used to chase her around the house, who once lifted her effortlessly onto his shoulders during family festivals, was now held together by machines and medicine.
A sharp burn welled in her eyes, but she blinked it back, refusing to let the tears escape.. Not yet. She stood there, just beyond the sliding glass door, her hand pressed to the cold surface. Her chest ached with helplessness
Everything had changed in a matter of moments—a screech of tires, a flash of panic, a phone call that yanked the ground out from beneath her. And now, her brother—the pillar of her childhood, her partner in crime, her constant—was battling invisible odds on a sterile hospital bed.
She didn’t know what would happen next. But in that moment, she promised him silently: I’m here. I won’t leave. Come back to me, Anna.
The surgery lasted for hours, and no one spoke. No one knew what to say.
Finally, a doctor emerged, face tired but calm.“He’s stable. We’ve done what we can.”
Relief came like a flood. The dam of tension broke—but grief and fear lingered behind.
The days that followed were unlike anything Hema had known. She learned to change dressings, argue with insurance agents, boil rice without burning it, manage EMIs, and explain the accident to relatives while holding back tears, sending medical reports asking for extended leave to his brother's office
Her mother stayed at the hospital. Hema took over everything else—meals, cleaning, bills, updates to family. Grief was heavy. But responsibility was heavier.
And somehow, she carried it.
Weeks passed. Her brother’s condition improved slowly. One afternoon, under the harsh glare of a humid sun, Hema stood in line at a crowded medical store, clutching a prescription slip with tired fingers. She blinked, waiting for the pharmacist.
And then—
A laugh.Soft. Familiar.
Floating through the chaos—barely there, carried by the wind from the footpath outside.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes already scanning the crowd. Could it be him?. Her feet almost moved. Almost.
But suddenly the pharmacist called her name disrupting the dream and snapping her back.
She turned back to the pharmacy brought the medicine, and walked home, She didn’t chase the laugh.
Not this time.That version of her—the girl who once had the time to follow butterflies—felt distant. Like someone from another life.
The days bled together—early morning hospital visits, long hours in the office, late-night meals eaten standing over the sink. She lived in two worlds , but as the time goes her brother’s condition improved , now the chaos seems to be detangling slowly , One rainy afternoon, Hema decided to visit the temple. Not out of ritual, but gratitude.
The rain had just begun, warm and soft. She walked into the temple with the fresh scent of wet earth welcoming her. The temple was quiet—just a few murmurs of prayer and the occasional ring of a bell.She went to her regular spot by the pillar in the corner.. She didn’t pray. She didn’t know what to ask. She just closed her eyes. She just breathed.
The silence wrapped around her. and the few droplets here and there felt like s of patting her shoulders
And then—her heart skipped a beat, again!
That laugh.
Soft. Unmistakable.Like the universe whispering again.
Her eyes snapped open. She scanned the temple grounds. Statues of gods stared down, but she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking for him.
A memory? Or something real? Is it a dream?
A few steps away, near the Tulasi maadam , under the shade of an old tree, he stood
That laugh guy. He was talking animatedly with a group of friends, sharing something with such enthusiasm that it made the others laugh too. The bright orange of the prasad plate in his hands matched the warm light from the temple lamps. The way he smiled—it was him.
The boy whose laugh had followed her through trains, through days. Her heart raced. Should she approach him? Say something? She hadn’t planned for this moment. But he was just… there. Laughing. Unaware of the girl standing across , heart racing, eyes wide.Her fingers twitched.What do I even say? This could be her chance.But in that moment, Hema realized something.
She wasn’t chasing a laugh. She was chasing something inside herself. Something she had forgotten. The craziness, the magic, that she’d lost in the chaos .And maybe, just maybe, the laugh was always the signal—a reminder that joy still lived within her, waiting to be found again.
You never know what someone next to you is going through, right? Sometimes, a random smile, a warm “hello,” or even a silly joke can make all the difference. A laugh—even a stranger’s—can be medicine. You never know—your smile might just have a fan out there. 😊You might just make someone’s day.
In the back of her mind, Hema drifted into a quiet daydream.but her eyes still on him.He left the temple, walking away, laughing—like always. Carefree, radiant.She could see him from a distance, but she didn’t follow. Not yet.
Because deep down, she believed…
That laugh—
That warmth—
That magic—
Would find her again. She stepped out into the rain. It kissed her skin like a promise.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t afraid.
Was it delusion?Or destiny?
Could this be love?
Maybe. Like the red string theory, where fate ties you to someone, no matter how far they drift.
Let’s see what happens...
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