Something about winters or so she believed, which often brought back the memories of that day. She had always tried to block them but an odd comment or a random reference often triggered a series of images in her mind.

His lifeless body lying in a puddle of blood. She could hardly take that picture out of her head. Someone had not only killed him but gone one step ahead and mutilated his body too.
“But you were only five. And it is okay, we were hardly close to the Khandelwals,” her mother dismissed the conversation no sooner did it start.
If only she could understand this easily. 
There was something about his face, like he was begging her to bring him to life. Like she was the only one who could reverse the actions of that murderer. That murderer. Yes it is fifteen years to that day and police has not been able to find a single clue leading to the killer. 
For her this mystery poked a hole in her heart and soul. She wanted a name to that gruesome act. She needed a closure.
“Devyani, why bother?” her mother’s additional two words to the topic.
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And it was one such winter day again. Her mind was filled with the thoughts of that afternoon. She was getting restless and Azhar was oblivious to her state of mind presently.
“Could you drop me home?” she asked softly.
He turned around slightly to give side glance. He could still see her clearly from the corner of his eye. She was wearing a fuscia pink suit coupled with her light brown shawl. The normally tied hair were today let loose, playing havoc with the eyes. Eyes. Deep and brown they held a strange mix of sparkle and water in them. And if you had done the mistake of looking straight into them, it took a while to come back to your senses. Or perhaps it was just with me, he thought smilingly. 
“Of course, let me finish the last few pages of this novel quickly,” he answered promptly.
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The soft breeze outside rattled the windows of the room. And the fact that she could still listen to them convinced her that there was little sleep she was going to get tonight. 
She decided she rather use this time to finish that unread novel in her bag. She picked it up and there on the first page she found a familiar set of handwritten notes.
“To my dearest, 

May it remind you of me in times of parting

She involuntarily smiled. The purpose of the note was perhaps in a way completed.
It had been four years since that rainy afternoon at the bus stop. What seemed like a passing attraction was now fast evolving into something far more than love. She had reached the pinnacle of her own expectations, she had finally found a man she could enjoy silence with.
Azhar. ” She stared at the written words in the novel again.
contd. at Of course, it was not that simple- Part 2                     

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And this time again, I am taking part in the thirty day writing challenge UBC. I have completed the challenge successfully twice before. Once in July and another time in October. Both these times I wrote a thirty-part running story and even released them as novellas. You can download them from The Other Side of Human love and The Unsent Life
And with me my fellow bloggers are also participating in the festival, I would love it if you could go around and provide them much needed motivation too. Trust me we all thrive on it. 
If you are also taking part in UBC then please do leave your blog link in the comments.

This year I will be contributed all my earnings from blog for nanhi kali. An organization supporting the cause of girl child education. You can read more here. You can also help contribute by making your amazon and flipkart purchases through the widgets on the right sidebar. 

Every successful purchase you make through this, I get a commission and I will donate that sum to the organisation.

Have you found ‘The Philospher’s stone’ on facebook?  If not then click here

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