Megha stared at the empty space on the wall where his picture used to be. She'd taken it down a week ago, after the news of Babu's death had spread through the city. The official reports called it a shootout, a necessary use of force against a criminal. Megha knew better. She knew the blood on his shirt was a truth no report could whitewash.
She heard the familiar sound of his jeep pulling up and braced herself. He came in, his face a mask of exhaustion, the same one he'd worn since that night. He saw the empty space on the wall. A flicker of something, maybe pain, maybe frustration, crossed his eyes before the mask settled again. He walked past her without a word and went to Surya's room.
"Daddy, are we playing cricket today?" Surya asked, his voice full of hope.
Bhoomi forced a smile. "Not today, champion. I have some work to do. Soon, I promise."
The lie hung in the air, a familiar ghost. Megha watched from the doorway as Surya's face fell. He was starting to understand that his father's promises were just words, as fleeting as the rain Bhoomi had so desperately wished for that night.
Later, as she sat with her dinner untouched, Bhoomi came and sat opposite her. The silence between them was an ocean.
"I know what you think of me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But I did what had to be done. That man… he was a monster. He had to be stopped."
"Stopped? Or killed?" Megha's voice was cold, sharp. "What happened to the man who believed in justice, not vengeance? What happened to the man I loved, Bhoomi?"
He flinched at the use of his name, a name he felt he no longer deserved. "That man is gone, Megha. This job...it changes you. It hardens you. You see too much."
"Then quit!" she pleaded, her voice cracking. "Quit and come back to us. Come back to me." Her longing deep eyes. He saw after a long time.
He looked at her, and for a moment, the mask slipped. The raw pain in his eyes was a glimpse of the man she remembered. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
"I can't," he whispered, the words heavy with a finality that crushed her. "I have to keep fighting the monsters."
Megha looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw not a hero, but a man haunted by a darkness that was consuming him. She saw a man who had lost himself in his mission, who had become the very thing he fought against.
"And who will fight the monster you've become?" she said, the words a quiet challenge.
The next morning, Surya went to school with a new notebook. He hadn't been able to write a poem about his dad the night before. But he had a new idea.
"My daddy is my hero," he wrote again. But this time, he crumpled the page and threw it in the trash. The words were a lie now, even to him.
Meanwhile, Bhoomi sat in his jeep, watching the rain finally fall. It wasn't the cleansing downpour he had hoped for. It was a cold, heavy rain, a reflection of the unending night that had settled in his heart.
He knew he couldn't go back. The line he had crossed was now a chasm. He had chosen the path of a monster to fight a monster. And now, he was alone, trapped in a relentless cycle of violence and grief. The night would never end for him.
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