Chapte - 6 The Point Of No Return
The silence in the room was suffocating. Kavin sat on the floor, his back pressed against the door, his breaths uneven. The faint wind outside and the distant hum of the city at night were the only sounds breaking the stillness. But inside, his mind was anything but quiet.
He stared at the floor, his hands resting on his knees, fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of his pants. The weight of what he had done—what he had just set into motion—settled deep in his chest. He had taken the risk, cut the hair, passed it to Ishita. There was no turning back now.
His gaze flickered toward the locked door.He had never locked his room before. Never needed to. But tonight, he did. Tonight, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Because the man sleeping just down the hall might not be his brother.
His stomach twisted at the thought.
Kavin: Kya hoga agar test positive aaya toh? Agar vo sach me Dushyant hai?
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
Kavin: Aur agar nahi aaya toh?
The alternative was worse.
He rubbed his face, exhaustion creeping in, but sleep was far from his reach. His body was in the house he had been living in for the past four months, but it still didn't feel like home. The walls held no familiar warmth, no memories from their past—just emptiness. And now, with each passing day, the unease growing inside him made it feel even less like a place he belonged.
His mind flashed back to the past few days—the way Dushyant had looked at him, spoken to him. It wasn't just the subtle differences, the misplaced reactions. It was the absence of something. A connection. A warmth.
Kavin: Ya phir… sirf mera dimaag zyada soch raha hai?
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. He wished it were just paranoia. But instinct told him otherwise. And instinct had never failed him before.
As he sat there in the dark, a single thought refused to leave his mind.
If the test came back negative… then where was his real brother?
Kavin ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly as he exhaled shakily. He got up abruptly, pacing back and forth, his mind spiraling. He wanted to shake off the thoughts clawing at his sanity, but they refused to let go.
He walked to the small table in the corner, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a few gulps, hoping it would steady his nerves. It didn't. His fingers tapped restlessly against the surface as he stared at the locked door, half-expecting it to burst open, for Dushyant to step in and call him an idiot for even doubting.
But what if he never did?
The thought sent a sharp, cold dread through his chest.
Kavin turned away, shutting his eyes as he tried to will away the worst possibilities. He pressed his palms together, whispering a silent prayer under his breath.
Kavin: Bhagwan... Bas itna karna... Dushyant jahan bhi ho... Theek ho... Aur... Zinda ho.
The last words barely escaped his lips, his throat tightening at the weight of them. His heart pounded in protest—how had it come to this? How had they reached a point where even hoping for Dushyant to be alive felt uncertain?
He clenched his fists, shaking his head violently. No. That wasn't an option. They had to find him.
Swallowing hard, Kavin sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. Sleep wouldn't come, he knew that already. Not when the possibility—the horrifying, gut-wrenching possibility—was now staring him right in the face.
A sudden vibration from his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it instantly, his heart pounding as he read the name flashing on the screen.
Ishita.
He hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kavin: Hello?
Ishita: Tension lene ki baat nahi hain, Kavin. Mene Abhijeet sir ko call kar ke, baat kar li hain... Mein abhi vo sample unhe dene ja rahi hu...
Kavin: Kya mein bhi chalu?
Ishita: Nahi... Ismein khatra ho sakta hain...
Kavin: Ishita ye ghar mujhe kaatne ko dhod raha hain...
Ishita: Kavin, shant raho... Please... I know ki tumhe gharahat ho rahi hogi... Par ham ye risk nahi le sakte... Iss se Dushyant ki jaan ko khatra ho sakta hain...
Kavin: Ok... Dhyan rakhna...
There was a long pause, nobody spoke anything, they both knew they were comforting each other with their presence.
Kavin: Ishita...
Ishita: Ha bolo, Kavin.
Kavin: Aur agar vo Dushyant nahi hai toh?
Another pause. He could almost picture Ishita biting her lip, choosing her words carefully.
Ishita: Toh hume sab kuch normal lagne dena hoga. Tab tak nahi jab tak hume pata na chal jaye ki asli Dushyant kaha hai… aur yeh aadmi kaun hai.
Normal. Pretending everything was fine. Acting as if nothing had changed when in reality, everything was falling apart. Could he do that? Could he sit across from that man at breakfast, exchange words like nothing was wrong, when he knew—he knew—that his real brother might be out there somewhere, lost, hurt… or worse?
Kavin exhaled, forcing the thought away.
Kavin:Theek hai. Kal baat karenge.
He cut the call before she could respond, unable to stomach another word. His hands trembled slightly as he set the phone down, his mind spiraling into possibilities he wasn't ready to face.
Slowly, he turned toward the door. Beyond that wooden barrier, the man who might not be Dushyant was asleep. Completely unaware of what was coming.
And Kavin?
He had to make sure he never saw it coming.
On the other side,
Ishita took a deep breath, pressing the sample envelope tightly against her chest. The air inside her apartment felt unnaturally heavy, the walls closing in on her as if they, too, were waiting for answers.
She glanced at the clock. 2:47 AM.
The world outside was asleep, wrapped in the false comfort of silence. But not her. Not Kavin. And maybe… not even Dushyant—whoever he really was.
A part of her wanted to hesitate, to rethink, to wait until morning. But she couldn't. Not when the doubt gnawed at her insides like a disease, not when Kavin's voice still echoed in her head.
"Aur agar vo Dushyant nahi hai toh?"
Ishita swallowed, blinking away the thought as she grabbed her bag and stepped toward the door. The hallway was eerily quiet as she stepped out, the faint hum of a distant streetlamp flickering through the small window at the end. She shut her door with practiced ease, her movements deliberate. Just across from her was the flat Kavin and Dushyant shared.
For a second, her eyes lingered on the door.
She just wanted Dushyant to open the door and tell her, "Buddhu, ye mein hu... Kaha ja rhi ho mere baalon ko chori kar ke?"
But she also didn't wanted Dushyant to come out and think, they didn't trusted him.
Now, that door felt like a wall between her and the truth.
Ishita inhaled sharply and turned away, hurrying toward the elevator.
The old lift doors groaned as she pressed the button, and she held her breath as they slid open. She stepped inside, pressing the ground floor button, and watched the numbers descend.
6… 5… 4… 3… 2…
Her fingers clenched around the envelope, her mind spiraling into a chaos she didn't want to acknowledge.
"What if I'm wrong?"
The thought was a whisper, creeping into her mind like an unwanted guest.
What if Kavin's fears were baseless? What if Dushyant was really… Dushyant?
Her throat tightened.
What if she was taking away the man who had looked at her like she was his whole world? The man who had stood by her side, who had promised—promised—that no matter what happened, he would always come back to her?
What if she was about to destroy that?
The elevator doors opened with a ding, but Ishita didn't move.
Her hands trembled as she pressed the envelope against her lips, shutting her eyes for a second.
"Dushyant, agar sach mein tum ho… toh please, ek baar, sirf ek baar koi signal dedo."
Nothing.
Just the empty hum of the building's parking lot beyond the lobby.
She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. No. This wasn't about love. This was about the truth. And the truth was bigger than her feelings.
She stepped out of the elevator.
The night air hit her as she walked out of the apartment complex, the streets dimly lit, an occasional stray dog roaming in the distance. She pulled her scarf a little tighter around her shoulders and walked toward the main road.
The city was never truly asleep, not even at this hour. Somewhere, cars honked. The faint laughter of people in distant buildings carried through the wind. It was strange—life moved on, unaware of the storm brewing inside her.
A lone auto-rickshaw stood by the street corner. She approached quickly, knocking on the side.
"Bhaiya, Bandra West chalenge?"
The driver, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, nodded and gestured for her to sit. She climbed in, tucking the envelope inside her bag, and leaned against the seat as the auto pulled into the empty road.
The city lights blurred past, but her mind was stuck somewhere else.
Somewhere in the past.
Somewhere in the way Dushyant used to look at her.
Somewhere in the way his voice softened when he said her name.
The wind brushed against her face, cold and sharp, but her mind was stuck in another time, another night.
The night she had married Dushyant.
The scent of burning wood, the flicker of flames casting a golden hue against the deep blue of the sky. The rhythmic chants of the priest, the soft rustling of her bridal lehenga as she took slow, measured steps around the sacred fire.
Seven rounds. Seven promises.
She had held his hand so tightly, afraid that if she let go, he would disappear.
"Har janam tum sirf mere rahoge, Ishita."
His voice had been a whisper, raw and earnest, words meant only for her ears. She had looked up at him then, finding the same fire in his eyes that burned within her. A promise, unshaken by doubt or fear.
And she had believed him.
God, she had believed him.
But what if… what if he had never meant it?
What if she had mistaken possession for love?
Her fingers curled into fists in her lap.
And what if—what if he had meant it?
What if Dushyant truly, deeply, irrevocably loved her? What if he was out there, waiting for her, waiting for someone to find him, to save him—while she was here, doubting him?
What if she never got to see him again?
The thought slammed into her like a physical force, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Her grip on the bag tightened.
She had thought she was ready for the answer. That she could handle the truth, no matter what it was.
But now, staring out at the blurred city lights, she realized she wasn't.
Because if the test confirmed their worst fear—if the man in that flat wasn't Dushyant—then where was the real one?
And what if she was already too late?
A deep, suffocating dread settled inside her chest, but she forced herself to sit still.
She had to do this.
She had to know.
"Agar ye sach nahi hai toh? Agar vo sach mein Dushyant hai?"
She bit her lips forcing herself to focus, this wasn't about her. This was about Kavin. About the real Dushyant. About finding out if they had already lost something without even realizing it.
Her fingers brushed against her bag, feeling the envelope inside.
One test. That was all it would take. One answer to change everything.
Her heart pounded as she saw the familiar lane approaching. She tapped the side of the auto. "Yahan rok do."
The vehicle slowed to a stop, and she paid quickly, stepping out into the silent street.
Abhijeet's house was just ahead, the dim glow of his porch light flickering in the dark. She hurried to the gate, her breaths uneven, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
She knocked twice, the sound too loud in the quiet of the night.
Seconds stretched. Then, a shadow moved behind the curtain, and the door opened.
Abhijeet stood there, his sharp eyes scanning her face before landing on the bag she clutched.
Ishita swallowed and held it out.
"Sir, ye lijiye"
Abhijeet didn't question. He didn't need to. He simply nodded, taking the envelope from her hands.
And just like that, the point of no return had arrived.