Akash Pal decided to make a final call to Chitrakshi Sen to call off the wedding

Akash Pal wanted an escape.

For days, the silence had been eating away at him, carving hollow spaces inside his heart, leaving behind only questions—Why didn’t she call? Why didn’t she care? He didn’t have the answers, and the weight of not knowing was unbearable.

So, he decided to drown it out.

If his mind was a battlefield, he would flood it with distractions—good things, positive things. Anything but the thoughts that clawed at him.

He turned to movies, to web series, to old classics and new releases. He let himself get lost in fictional worlds, hoping they would pull him away from his own reality. And for a while, they did.

But every time the credits rolled, so did the truth.

The moment of happiness ended with every end of a movie.

And the silence always returned.

Akash knew—this wasn’t a solution. He could numb himself for hours, even days, but in the end, he would still be right where he started.

And so, with a deep breath, he did the one thing he had been avoiding.

He picked up his phone and called Chitrakshi Sen.

The line was busy.

He waited. Tried again. Still busy.

Minutes passed. Then hours. Then another attempt. Still busy.

But she never called him back.

Not once.

Akash clenched his jaw, staring at his phone as if willing it to ring, to light up with her name. He gave her time. Gave her the benefit of the doubt.

But the truth was as clear as the silence between them—she wasn’t going to call.

And suddenly, he knew.

This was the moment.

This was where it ended.

If she had picked up—if she had given him anything, even a feigned excuse—maybe he would have held on a little longer. But she hadn’t.

And now, he wouldn’t either.

His hands felt steady as he typed out the message.

“I am calling off the wedding because I can’t live or marry a woman whose heart is already married to someone else.”

He hesitated only for a second.

Then, he hit send.

And waited.

Watched.

Hoped—for something.

A call. A message. A reaction.

But there was nothing.

Chitrakshi Sen did not respond.

Not even to the end of their story.

The silence had become unbearable.

Chitrakshi Sen had ignored his calls. She had left his messages unanswered. Even when he had sent the final, decisive text calling off the wedding, she had given him nothing.

And that nothing was driving him insane.

Akash Pal needed answers. If she wouldn’t give them to him, he would find them himself.

So, one evening, without telling anyone, he borrowed a friend’s car—a dark-colored sedan that wouldn’t easily be recognized—and drove toward Chitrakshi Sen’s house. He parked a short distance away, close enough to watch unnoticed, yet far enough to remain undetected.

For the first time in his life, he found himself doing something he had never imagined—spying on the woman he was supposed to marry.

The plan was simple. Observe. See if she was home, if she was going out, if someone—perhaps Kiaan Roy—was coming in. He just needed proof, something to confirm what his gut had been screaming at him for weeks.

The first night, he waited. Hours passed. The house remained dark, lifeless.

The second night, the same.

By the third, an unsettling realization crept in—she wasn’t coming out. No one was going in.

For a full week, he repeated the same routine. He parked in different spots, adjusted his angles, tried to catch even the smallest movement. But the Sen residence remained eerily still.

Not once did he see Chitrakshi step outside. Not once did he catch a glimpse of her through the curtains. No visitors. No signs of life.

It was as if she had vanished.

A cold chill ran down his spine as he stared at the empty windows of her home.

Where was she?

And why did it feel like she had disappeared without a trace?