few days later, Karthik was still struggling to feel like himself again. The ache in his head had not completely disappeared, though it was mild enough for him to ignore most of the time. What bothered him more was being stuck at home, watching the hours crawl by while everyone around him treated him as though he might break if he moved too quickly.
That morning, he stepped out of his room, only to find the house unusually quiet. Kaka and Fizza were nowhere to be seen.
He stood there for a moment, wondering whether he should wait for them to return. Then his eyes drifted towards the door.
He was tired of waiting.
After changing into a light T-shirt, Karthik left for the clinic. He had no intention of doing anything strenuous; he simply wanted to ask Maya whether he could return to work. Surely, five days of rest had been enough.
At the clinic, he approached the counter, preparing himself to explain why he was there. But before he could say anything, a familiar voice caught his attention.
Maya was standing nearby with Aram.
They seemed to be in the middle of a serious conversation.
"So, have you decided?" Aram asked her. "Will you continue working here after the wedding, or would you rather join me at the hotel? You could help with the business."
Maya considered his question. "I haven't decided yet. I like working here."
"You could still work with people at the hotel. And it would be easier for us if—"
"Excuse me."
Both of them turned.
Karthik stood a short distance away, his hands loosely clasped together. For a brief moment, he wondered whether he had interrupted something important.
Aram looked him over. "Karthik. You're looking better. How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine," Karthik replied, then hesitated. "Well, that's actually why I'm here."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Have you finally decided to stop giving everyone a heart attack?"
"I'm not that talented," he muttered.
She let out a small laugh, and Karthik felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"I came to ask if I can return to work," he explained. "I've been resting for five days. I think I'm ready now."
Maya's smile faded into a more thoughtful expression. She looked at him for a moment, as though trying to decide whether he was being honest about how he felt.
"Are you sure you're feeling well enough?"
"Yes."
"Karthik."
He sighed. "Mostly."
"That sounds much more believable."
Aram glanced between them, saying nothing.
Maya finally nodded. "All right. You can return, but don't overdo it. If you start feeling unwell, you stop and tell someone. No arguing."
"I won't argue."
She gave him a look.
"Much," he corrected.
"Go home and get ready, then."
Karthik thanked her and left before she could change her mind.
Back at the house, he went straight to the kitchen and picked up a few apples. Fizza had been bringing him fruit regularly since he fell ill, and he had grown accustomed to having something to eat before leaving. He slipped the apples into a small bag, checked that he had everything he needed, and headed for the hotel.
For the first time in days, he felt as though he was finally moving forward again.
It was one month and three days until Maya and Aram's wedding.
When Karthik reached the hotel, he immediately noticed that something had changed. The entire place seemed busier than usual. Workers were moving furniture around, carrying boxes, fixing lights, and repainting sections of the walls.
The hotel's party hall was undergoing a complete makeover.
That was where the wedding would take place.
Karthik stood there for a moment, looking at the decorations being prepared. It was strange to think that in just over a month, this same place would be filled with music, flowers, and people celebrating Maya's marriage.
He shook the thought away and headed toward the staff room.
There, he collected his cleaning equipment and checked the duty list. The tourist season was still relatively quiet, so the hotel wasn't nearly as crowded as it usually became. His assignment for the day was the laundry room in the basement—blankets, bedsheets, and heavy curtains.
Not exactly exciting work, but it was peaceful. And, most importantly, it was a one-person job.
He headed downstairs.
The basement was much quieter than the rest of the hotel. The low, rhythmic hum of the industrial machines filled the room, occasionally interrupted by the distant footsteps of someone passing through the corridor outside.
Karthik started working.
As the machines continued their endless rhythm, his mind wandered back to the interaction he had witnessed that morning. Aram didn't seem as bad as Karthik had imagined. Perhaps he had judged him too quickly.
After all, Maya looked happy around him.
Maybe... maybe letting go is what life is asking me to do, Karthik murmured to himself, the sound instantly swallowed by the roar of the dryer.
The thought didn't hurt as much as it used to. For once, he wasn't fighting it.
He continued working, load after load, until the sound of the machines became hypnotic. The repetition blurred everything together. He didn't notice the precise moment when the high, narrow transom window near the ceiling stopped spilling gray daylight into the room. He didn't notice the shadow of the metal grates lengthening across the concrete floor, nor did he feel the chill settling into the air as the sun dipped far below the horizon.
He was entirely trapped in the quiet loop of his own head.
BANG!
Karthik jolted. The sudden, violent strike against the heavy basement door startled him so badly that he nearly dropped the stack of folded drapes in his hands.
"Karthik!"
It was Kaka.
Karthik hurried toward the door and pulled it open. Kaka stood in the dim corridor, breathing heavily, with Fizza standing right beside him, her brow furrowed with visible annoyance.
"Why weren't you picking up your phone?!" Kaka demanded, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and rising irritation.
Karthik blinked, completely disoriented by the sudden light of the hallway. "My phone?"
Fizza stepped forward, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. "And shouldn't you have informed us you were going out?"
"I—" He paused, a sudden spark of realization hitting him as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "My phone... I left it in my locker this morning."
Fizza stared at him, exasperated. "You left it in your locker all day?"
"Yeah... I had to go to the clinic this morning," Karthik stammered, trying to piece his thoughts back together. "Maya said I could continue working when I got back, so I came straight down here."
"Still..." Fizza muttered, shaking her head. "We've been looking all over for you."
"Sorry," Karthik said genuinely.
He turned around to reach for his jacket and glanced up at the round analog clock mounted on the basement wall.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
His expression completely changed. The black hands of the clock were pointing to hours that made no sense.
"Wait..." he whispered.
He stared at it again, blinking to clear his vision, but the numbers didn't shift. The afternoon hadn't just passed; it was late evening. The entire day had vanished while he stood in front of the same metallic drum.
Kaka frowned, stepping into the doorway. "What is it?"
Karthik looked around the laundry room. The same spinning drums, the same piles of damp linens, the same gray concrete walls. Everything looked identical to when he had walked down the stairs after his clinic visit. He had no memory of the hours slipping away—no recollection of lunchtime, no awareness of the light dying out, no sense of the daylight hours dissolving into night.
It felt as though he had stepped into the room mere minutes ago.
"Nothing," Karthik finally said, forcing his voice to stay steady as he reached over and switched off the main breaker switch.
The low roar of the washer died, plunging the basement into a sudden, eerie stillness.
"My shift is over anyway," he added, wiping his damp hands against his trousers.
Fizza watched him carefully, her sharp expression softening slightly into concern. "Are you sure you're okay, Karthik?"
Karthik forced a brief smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."
He picked up his gear to follow them back toward the main stairwell. But as he reached the doorframe, he stopped and looked back into the quiet basement one last time.
The room was completely still, exactly as he had left it. Except the day was gone, and he couldn't remember where he had been while it passed.