Chapter 14: The Empty Bench

A quieter corner of the Indira Gandhi Memorial Tulip Garden lay slightly away from the crowd.
Fewer people walked here.
The rows of tulips were just as vibrant, but the noise had faded—replaced by a softer stillness. A wooden bench stood near the edge of the path, untouched, as if waiting for someone who never arrived.

Akash slowed down.
Then stopped.

Depabali did the same.

Neither of them sat.
They just stood beside the empty bench.

🌿 The wind moved gently, brushing past the flowers, carrying a quiet rhythm that neither of them interrupted.

“You never told me much about your family,” Depabali said.

Akash looked at her.

“Maybe because you never asked,” he replied.

A faint smile crossed her face.
“Then I’m asking now.”

A pause.

Akash glanced ahead, where Ananya and the children were still moving between the rows, their voices faint from a distance.

“Raniganj,” he said slowly. “That’s where I’m from.”

Depabali nodded.
Listening.

“High middle-class family,” he continued. “Structured… disciplined.”
A slight breath.
“My father worked in the coal sector. Strict man. Not harsh… but clear about everything.”

Depabali’s eyes softened slightly.

“And your mother?” she asked.

Akash smiled faintly.
“Quiet. She never argued much. But she understood everything.”

The words lingered.

“And your sister?”

“She’s younger,” he said. “Married now. Settled.”
A brief pause.
“She was always more expressive than me.”

Depabali looked at him carefully.

“And you?” she asked. “You were always like this?”

Akash gave a small smile.
“Probably worse.”

They both let out a soft, quiet laugh.

✨ The space between them felt lighter for a moment.

“You had everything,” Depabali said after a while.

The sentence wasn’t questioning.
It was observational.

Akash looked at her.

“Yes,” he said.

No explanation.
No justification.

Just acceptance.

Depabali’s gaze shifted toward the empty bench.

“Strange,” she said softly. “Two people can start from such different places…”

“…and still reach the same point?” Akash completed.

She shook her head slightly.

“…and still miss it.”

Silence followed.

🌷 The wind moved again.
The tulips swayed together, their colors blending for a moment before settling back into place.

Akash leaned slightly against the back of the bench.
But didn’t sit.

“Your father…” he said after a moment. “What did he do?”

Depabali’s expression changed slightly.
Not visibly.
But enough.

“School teacher,” she said.

Akash nodded.

“He wanted stability,” she continued. “A simple life.”
A faint pause.
“But I wanted something else.”

“And you got it,” Akash said.

She looked at him.

“Yes,” she replied.

But the word didn’t carry satisfaction.

The silence returned.

📣 From a distance, Ananya’s voice echoed again—
“Akash! Come, we’re taking one last photo!”

The moment paused.

Depabali stepped back slightly.
The invisible distance returned.

“We should go,” she said.

Akash nodded.

He looked once at the empty bench.
Still untouched.

Then walked forward.

Leaving it behind—

Like something that could have been…

But never was.

❄️ To Be Continued…