Chapter 8: A Life That Never Came

Pranav asked the team to stay back in the car. “It’s her home, and her mother’s elderly. Let’s not storm the place. Thameem, just you and me.”

The narrow lane outside the house was lined with wilting hibiscus shrubs. The air felt unusually heavy. Pranav knocked gently. The door creaked open.

Subashini stood before them, her expression composed but her eyes—sunken and dry—betrayed days of sleepless grief. Without a word, she welcomed them in. Her mother sat silently in the living room, her vacant gaze fixed on the floor, as if she had lost the ability to look at the world.

Pranav introduced himself and Thameem softly. Subashini nodded and gestured for them to sit.

There was no time to ease into it. Pranav asked about Lakshmi.

Subashini didn’t speak at first. Her throat moved, but no words came. And then, like a dam snapping under the weight of too much sorrow, her voice cracked.

“She wasn’t just my sister,” she whispered, “she was my first patient.”

Thameem’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Yes… I was her OB-GYN,” she continued, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “The joy I had when I got to treat my own sister… for a new life coming into hers… it felt like God’s personal blessing on us. We were all thrilled. Lakshmi, Raghavan, me… even Amma. After years of trying, finally, there was hope.”

She took a deep breath and continued, her voice shaking.

“She listened to everything I said. Though I was the younger one, she always treated me like I knew best. She followed every suggestion—yoga, food, medications… everything. I saw her glowing with belief.”

But her voice darkened.

“When nothing worked… when every scan came back empty… it started eating at them. First came disappointment. Then came blame. And slowly, Raghavan turned into someone we didn’t recognize.”

Subashini paused. Her fingers clutched the hem of her saree.

“They changed her doctor a year before her death. Not because I wasn’t good enough—but because Raghavan believed I was biased. That I was holding them back somehow. There was tension between him and me. Amma didn’t want fights. I stepped away…”

She exhaled slowly.

“From then on, I only saw glimpses of her. She became a shadow. Pale, quiet… and those bruises… I knew.”

Pranav leaned forward, listening intently. The words were heavy, but necessary.

“She was slipping away before our eyes. And we couldn’t reach her. She stopped meeting anyone—even our parents. She told me she didn’t want them to see her like that. Maybe she wanted to protect them. But me… she met once in a while. Only me.”

Her voice broke entirely.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I had warned him once… I told him I’ll report what I saw. He laughed and told me I watch too many movies. He said she falls often.”

A bitter smile crossed her face.

“A life that never came… ended hers. What irony, isn’t it? The baby we prayed for became the very reason she was broken.”

Thameem reached out gently, placing a hand on Subashini’s shoulder. Her mother still hadn’t moved.

“I’m just thankful my parents didn’t see her body,” Subashini whispered. “That would’ve ended them too.”

The room fell into an aching silence. Pranav sat with it—absorbing every word, every pause. It wasn’t just Lakshmi who had died. Her family had died with her, slowly, over five years.

He stood up finally and thanked them for their time, asking when they planned to return to the US.

“Early morning, day after tomorrow,” Subashini replied, wiping her eyes.

Outside, the sun had long disappeared. The streetlights buzzed as Pranav and Thameem walked back to the car.

In the backseat, Pranav briefed Murali quietly about the conversation. Nobody spoke after that. The city passed by in shadows and silence.

As they approached the junction, Pranav broke the quiet. “Drop me at the station. You all head home. Get some rest. We’ve had two long days.”

“Sir… you should rest too,” Thameem said, concerned.

“I will,” Pranav nodded. “But I have to report to the Commissioner first.”

Back at the station, under the dim yellow light of his office, Pranav spread the case file open again. The documents, the photographs, the postmortem notes—they were all in front of him.

A woman murdered.

A husband in custody.

A family torn beyond repair.

But something still didn’t sit right.

And this time, it wasn’t just a gut feeling.