CHAPTER LXI
"If Only I Could Go Back"
I pulled out an old photograph from the side pocket of my bag — worn, soft at the edges, a little faded by time… but the faces were still clear. It was a picture of Mon and me, taken in brighter days. A memory frozen before the storm, before the betrayal, before everything we were fell apart.
As I stared at it, something inside me cracked open.
If I had the chance… if I could travel back in time… I would change everything. I swear I would.
If only I hadn't listened to Malvika.
If only I had trusted Mon the way love demands to be trusted.
If only I had seen past my own doubts — hadn't accused Mon because of Ashwin, hadn't let jealousy and suspicion become stronger than the bond we shared.
Maybe… just maybe… everything would've been different.
I wouldn't be sitting here, clutching a photograph like it's the only heartbeat I have left.
I wouldn't be drowning in "what ifs" and "if onlys."
And maybe… just maybe… Mon would still be mine.
Not a stranger.
Not a traitor.
Not a ghost with my name still trembling in her silence.
I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. But grief like this doesn't scream — it seeps, quiet and corrosive. It makes a home in your bones.
Just then, August looked over from the passenger seat. Her voice was gentle, but direct.
> "Sam… what happened? What really happened between you and them? Why do they hate you so much?"
It wasn't an accusation.
It was a question soaked in heartbreak.
And I knew… I owed her the truth. I owed myself the truth.
I opened my mouth to speak — to confess the whole bloody mess. But just then, her walkie-talkie crackled violently to life.
A voice broke through — panicked, rapid, urgent.
> "This is a code red! California Army Safe Zone under siege. I repeat — zombies have breached the outer perimeter. All units report to fallback positions!"
August's face paled, eyes wide with dread.
And then… my walkie-talkie buzzed.
The voice that poured through it stopped my heart cold.
> "Sam… Sam, it's your father. Listen to me carefully."
"Amayra's father is outside the safe zone gates. He's trying to break in, causing chaos. He's furious. He says you lied, that you brought doom to us all. And Sam — the zombies… they're closing in fast."
"It's not safe here anymore. They're everywhere. We… we may not hold out for long…"
My breath caught in my throat.
The world around me tilted.
That was my father's voice — trembling not just with fear, but with desperation. The kind of desperation only a father feels when he knows he might lose everything.
And what shook me most… was the name he mentioned.
Amayra.
Her father — outside the gates, turning the safe zone into a battlefield.
How had it come to this?
How had truth turned to blame?
Loyalty into betrayal?
My head spun. My heart pounded. I wanted to scream — to scream at the sky, at fate, at myself — but I didn't have time.
The photograph in my hand crumpled as my fingers tightened around it.
The past could wait.
Regret could wait.
Now, we had to move.
Now, we had to survive.
I looked at August and Aurora. "We need to get to the California Army camp. Now."
They didn't ask questions. They just nodded.
And so, with the ghosts of love behind us and the fire of war ahead…
We drove. Into the unknown.
Into the storm.
"The Past Always Finds a Way"
It felt like every moment — every breath I took — was pushing me back toward the past, dragging me through memories I wasn't ready to face. No matter how far I ran, it clung to me like a shadow — especially when it came to her.
Mon.
It was our university's final exam week. The corridors buzzed with nerves, notes, and anxious hearts preparing to close one chapter and open another. And yet… between Mon and me, there was nothing but silence.
No words.
No glances.
No closure.
There was no opportunity to talk — and deep down, I knew… even if we had been given one, we wouldn't have used it. We were too broken, too proud, too afraid of what might come spilling out if we let the silence crack.
That day — the last time I would ever see her — she was walking away from the university gates. Her back was straight, her steps firm, like someone determined to move forward without looking back. And me?
I stood there, frozen.
Watching her.
Every part of me wanted her to turn around. Just once. Just once. Because a single look… might have saved me. Might have told me I still mattered. Might have made everything hurt just a little less.
And she didn't.
Not until the last second — when she finally did turn back.
But the moment our eyes met… I panicked.
I looked away. Took a step back. Walked in the opposite direction.
Because if I had stayed… I might have broken.
I never saw her again after that.
And sometimes, it feels like that goodbye never really ended.
---
Life didn't pause for heartbreak.
Soon after, I passed the police entrance exams alongside Mahi and Aarvi — two of the only people who had stuck by me even when the world didn't. We were a trio bound not by blood, but by shared scars, shared grit. And when we all made it through, we were assigned to Hyderabad for official training.
A new city. A new chapter.
We arrived at the academy with trembling hearts and hopeful minds. It was there that we met Trainer Sir Rajdeep Singh — a man as sharp as his discipline, but with a quiet fire in his eyes that made you want to earn his respect.
He didn't go easy on us.
He pushed us to the edge — physically, mentally, emotionally.
But in that fire… we were forged.
We learned how to chase danger without flinching, how to protect without breaking, how to stand tall even when our legs threatened to give out.
And somewhere in those long months of sweat and bruises and early morning drills… we stopped being just girls with dreams.
We became police officers.
Real ones.
With badges that meant something. With strength we had bled to earn.
Yet even then, some nights — after lights out, when the bunkhouse was quiet and the sky outside burned with Hyderabad's orange haze — I would stare at the ceiling and think of her.
Mon.
The girl I once loved.
The girl who never looked back… until it was already too late.
And me — the girl who did look back.
And ran anyway.
"When Paths Cross Again"
Life has a strange way of bringing people back — not always when you expect it, but always when it matters.
After completing my training in Hyderabad, I received news of my transfer — I was being posted to Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh. A city buzzing with stories, crowded streets, and shadows that danced a little longer than they should. It wasn't unfamiliar… but it wasn't home either. Not yet.
I packed my bags with practiced hands, told myself this was just another chapter — another badge, another assignment. But deep inside, something stirred. Something I didn't yet have a name for.
Kanpur greeted me with its usual chaos — honking rickshaws, chai stalls brimming with gossip, dusty afternoons heavy with history and humidity. And on my very first week back… I saw her.
Hannah.
The girl who once filled pages of my past. A memory I hadn't touched in years — not because I forgot, but because it hurt too much to remember.
But there she was, standing tall in a crisp white coat, a stethoscope around her neck, and a calm in her eyes that had only deepened with time.
Hannah was a doctor now.
Beautiful, brilliant, composed — and somehow, even more radiant than before.
Our reunion wasn't a planned one. It came like most things do in my line of work — through a case. A high-profile incident involving multiple injuries had brought the police and the medical teams together. And in that collision of two very different worlds… we met again.
She recognized me instantly. Her eyes widened with the kind of surprise that's wrapped in warmth — like a forgotten song you suddenly hear again.
"Sam?" she had whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.
I nodded, trying not to let the memories flood in too fast.
"Hannah."
The moment was short — stolen between flashing cameras, urgent sirens, and heavy footsteps. But it was enough. Enough to open a door neither of us thought would ever creak again.
Days passed.
The case brought us together again.
And again.
And before I knew it, our meetings were no longer bound by duty.
A coffee after a long day.
A shared walk from the hospital to the station.
A text here, a call there.
It started to feel… easy. Natural. Like slipping into a rhythm that had always been waiting.
With Hannah, I didn't need to explain who I had been, what I had lost, or how many pieces I still carried inside me. She didn't ask me to be perfect — only present. And maybe that was the kind of grace I had forgotten I needed.
Kanpur wasn't home when I first arrived. But somehow, in those quiet conversations, in the way Hannah would laugh softly while stirring her tea, in the way she looked at me like I wasn't broken… I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, home wasn't a place after all.
Maybe it was a person.
And maybe, this time, life was giving me another chance to get it right.
To be continue....