She became numb to Nirav’s excuses for not visiting more often. “I have an early meeting” was as popular as “I have to work late.” Although because they involved work, she empathized with him, if only a speck. After all, she hadn’t rejoined the world as a productive member of society, yet. The thought of going back to work was more insurmountable now that it had been weeks ago. Sometimes it felt as though she might never hold down a job again. All the steps involved in getting through a full day felt as long as a marathon to her. How had she ever done it before?

Other excuses, she had little sympathy for, like, “I have a footy match” or “I’m going to play Snooker with some mates” or “I’m too tired.” Whenever he mumbled these excuses, she dismissed them, telling herself she didn’t care, it didn’t matter if he showed up or not, she was handling things well on her own, everything was fine, and, usually after a quick strike to the head, she more or less believed herself.

One day, the police inspector rang their doorbell. He was holding a white plastic bag. Her thoughts shot to the white plastic bag Sunil had given her, the one full of sleeping pills, the one she had gotten rid of. While rationally she knew that the white plastic bag in the inspector’s hand was a different white plastic bag, knowing this didn’t stop her insides from reacting with panic. “The rest of your brother’s belongings,” he told her. What he said after that, she couldn’t remember.

Back in her room, she knelt by her bed and laid out his things with the care of an archivist handling lost treasures.

His wallet—curved, worn brown leather, a graduation present. Car and house keys held together on the plastic Taurus keychain she got him from a Hallmark store years ago. And his cell phone.

His cell phone. The repository of their pleas. She picked it up. It was off. Had it been off the whole time? Was the battery dead? Before turning it on, she hesitated. It doesn’t matter, she thought. It doesn’t change anything. Stop torturing yourself. But reasonable thoughts were easily overruled by her beastly need to know. She pressed the power button. It flickered to life. Which probably meant it had been off the whole time.

25 missed calls, she read, heart sinking.

5 new messages.

The glare of knowing began to sting her eyes.

This meant that while they were reaching out to him, Sunil had remained fixed on his plan. She had an answer now, and it proved her earlier assertion to be correct. The answer didn’t matter, it didn’t change anything, and it certainly didn’t make her feel any closer to closure. All Kavita felt was torture at the hands of a past she couldn’t alter.