Even though Neil had already decided to avoid her, fate clearly had other plans.
Just as he was about to leave the hospital lobby, their paths crossed.
Mira turned around from the reception counter—and froze.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Up close, she looked even more fragile than he remembered.
Her eyes were swollen from crying. The sindoor that had once decorated her hairline was now gone. The thin gold chain she used to wear proudly as a newly married woman hung awkwardly against her neck.
Widowed.
The word struck Neil like a punch to the chest.
Mira quickly lowered her gaze and folded her hands politely.
"Mr. Mehra… I wanted to thank you."
Her voice was soft, but steady.
"For… for dropping the charges."
Neil didn't respond immediately.
She continued quietly.
"It means a lot. Rajat was not… someone who would drive drunk."
Her fingers tightened around the hospital paperwork she was holding.
"I don't know what happened that day. The last thing he told me was that he had just left the theatre."
Neil forced himself to remain calm.
"I know."
Mira looked up slightly.
Neil continued carefully.
"We actually knew each other."
That caught her attention.
"You… knew Rajat?"
Neil nodded.
"We were actually in discussions for a film project."
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"I had offered him an important role."
Mira frowned slightly.
"Rajat never told me about this."
Neil nodded again.
"He mentioned he hadn't told you yet."
"Why?" she asked quietly.
Neil looked away for a moment before answering.
"He said he wanted it to be a surprise."
Mira blinked.
"A surprise… for me?"
"For your first wedding anniversary," Neil said gently.
"He mentioned it was next month."
For a moment Mira's expression softened.
Rajat had remembered.
Even with everything they had been struggling through… he had still remembered.
Her throat tightened, and the rest of the words refused to come out.
"I… I didn't know…"
For a moment Neil really looked at her.
The faint dark circles under her eyes.
The way her fingers kept tightening around the hospital papers, as if she didn't know what else to do with them.
Three days ago she had been a newly married woman worrying about ordinary things—rent, groceries, Rajat coming home late from auditions.
Now she was standing in a hospital lobby signing papers for her husband's body.
A heavy knot formed in Neil's chest.
He forced himself to look away before the guilt could show on his face.
Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a card and held it toward her.
"If you ever need help… anything at all… you can contact me."
The words felt strange coming out of his mouth.
Anything.
Except the one truth that mattered the most.
Except telling her that the man she had just lost… was standing right in front of her.
Mira hesitated before taking the card.
Neil watched as her fingers slowly closed around it.
For a brief moment, an old habit rose inside him.
An almost unbearable urge to say her name the way he used to.
To ask if she had eaten.
To ask if she had slept at all.
To tell her everything would somehow be alright.
But that wasn't his place anymore.
Not in this life.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
She meant it.
But when she looked at him again, something made her pause.
There was something about Neil Mehra that felt…
Strangely familiar.
She couldn't explain it.
His voice.
The way he spoke.
Even the brief moment he avoided her eyes.
It stirred something faint in her memory.
But that was impossible.
She pushed the thought away.
Rajat was gone.
And Neil Mehra was simply a stranger who had shown unexpected kindness.
Still…
As she walked away from the hospital, that strange feeling refused to disappear.
Mira's POV
Three days earlier her life had been completely different.
Three days earlier she had been Mira Das Mishra, a newly married woman with endless plans for the future.
Now she was simply Mira Das again.
Widow.
The word still didn't feel real.
Mira had grown up in Kolkata, in a home filled with music.
Her father was a classical vocalist.
Her mother played the sitar.
Their modest house in North Kolkata was always filled with students, rehearsals, and the sound of ragas drifting through the halls.
Music had been the center of her childhood.
But college was where she met Rajat.
He wasn't from the music department.
He was from the theatre society.
Loud.
Passionate.
Completely obsessed with acting.
She still remembered the first time she saw him on stage.
He wasn't the most polished actor in the group.
But there was something raw about him.
Something real.
After the performance he had come backstage looking exhausted but excited.
"That was terrible," he had said dramatically.
Mira had laughed.
"That was amazing."
That had been their first conversation.
From there everything had grown slowly.
Tea after rehearsals.
Long walks across the campus.
Arguments about films and theatre.
Dreams about the future.
After graduation their paths separated slightly.
Rajat left for Delhi to join the National School of Drama.
Mira stayed in Kolkata to pursue her postgraduate degree in music.
But distance never stopped her.
Whenever she managed to save enough money, she would travel to Delhi.
She still remembered walking down Bhagwandas Road, carrying homemade food in a small bag because Rajat always complained about the mess food at NSD.
Sometimes she would quietly slip money into his bag.
Money she earned from giving music tuitions to neighborhood children.
Rajat hated accepting it.
"This is your money," he would argue.
"And you're my idiot," she would reply stubbornly.
"Eat properly."
Her parents never approved of him.
To them Rajat was just a struggling actor chasing an uncertain future.
When she finished her postgraduate degree, they began arranging meetings with suitable matches.
One of them was a software engineer working in the United States.
A "perfect boy," her parents had said.
But Mira had already made her choice.
One night she packed a small suitcase.
Left a letter for her parents.
And boarded a train to Mumbai.
To Rajat.
The early years in Mumbai were difficult.
Rajat chased auditions.
Mira found work as a music teacher in a small school.
At the same time she auditioned for singing reality shows and tried for playback singing opportunities in films.
Her voice carried the depth of years of classical training—soft at first, but powerful enough to fill a room when she sang.
But talent alone didn't make things easy in Mumbai.
Most days she barely managed to get by, juggling her job as a music teacher with endless auditions and studio visits, hoping someone would give her a chance.
Life was never easy.
But they were together.
And that was enough.
Eventually, despite her family's objections, they got married in a small ceremony.
Just a few friends.
Two simple rings.
And a promise to build their life together.
Their home was tiny.
A one-bedroom apartment with unreliable electricity and a leaking kitchen sink.
But to Mira it felt like the beginning of everything.
She remembered the little things most clearly.
Rajat cooking terrible omelettes.
Their late-night conversations about films.
The way he would rehearse dramatic dialogues while she tried not to laugh.
They had so many plans.
And then…
The phone call came.
A hospital.
An accident.
For a few seconds she thought it was some kind of mistake.
That they had called the wrong person.
But they hadn't.
And just like that—
Everything ended.
Yet even now, a small part of her still waited to hear the familiar sound of Rajat unlocking their apartment door.
Neils's POV
The ride back from the hospital was quieter than Neil expected.
Gaurav had stayed behind to complete some remaining formalities with the hospital and the police, so it was just the three of them in the car.
Rani sat beside him in the back seat, still watching him like he might suddenly disappear if she looked away.
Ani had taken the seat near the window, though she kept glancing at him every few seconds.
The driver moved the car slowly through the afternoon traffic.
After a few minutes, Ani suddenly snapped her fingers.
"Oh right."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a phone before handing it to him.
"Your phone. The hospital staff gave it back earlier."
Neil took it automatically.
Before he could say anything, Ani added,
"Also… your car is still at the garage. The front is pretty messed up. The mechanic said it'll take a few days."
Rani immediately reacted.
"Forget repairing it," she said firmly. "We'll just discard that car."
Both siblings turned toward her.
"It's unlucky now."
"We'll consult Panditji and buy a new one on an auspicious date."
For a moment there was silence.
Then Ani snorted.
Neil couldn't help it either.
The two of them burst into quiet laughter.
Rani frowned at them.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, Mom," Ani said quickly, still trying to suppress her grin.
Neil leaned back in the seat, still smiling faintly, and glanced down at the phone in his hand.
Without thinking, his thumb moved across the screen.
The phone unlocked instantly.
Neil blinked.
That… wasn't his habit.
But his hand had moved completely on instinct.
For a second he stared at the screen in confusion.
Then suddenly—
Memories surfaced in his mind.
Not Rajat's.
Neil Mehra's.
Faces.
Contacts.
Messages.
Parties.
Film sets.
Friends.
Clubs.
Old conversations.
Dozens of small memories tied to the phone and the people inside it.
Neil slowly exhaled.
So the soul merge had already assimilated Neil's memories into his own.
He hadn't even noticed.
That was… convenient.
At least now he wouldn't accidentally expose himself in front of people who knew the original Neil.
But another thought quickly followed.
Neil glanced out the window at the passing city.
Rajat Mishra had spent most of his life as a struggling outsider.
Neil Mehra, on the other hand…
Was a rich producer's son.
A star kid.
Which meant something far more dangerous than auditions or stunt work.
Friends.
Industry circles.
Party groups.
All the social expectations of someone like Neil Mehra.
Rajat had spent his entire life as a struggling outsider.
Neil Mehra, on the other hand, was a rich industry brat surrounded by people who knew him well.
Which meant one thing.
Neil rubbed his forehead and muttered quietly to himself.
"Well… I guess I have to act in real life now too."