For several seconds, neither Dhrubo Sen nor Leela Dutta spoke.
Rain lashed against the broken windows of Room 42 while cigarette smoke drifted through the darkness like fading memory.
Finally Dhrubo asked quietly:
“If Arindam died years earlier… who met Meera on Harrison Road?”
Leela looked toward the empty child’s bed.
“A man who should have remained buried.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No,” she whispered.
“It is a punishment.”
Leela sat slowly beside the rusted cabinet.
Age seemed heavier upon her now.
“As children,” she said softly, “Arindam and I grew up together.”
Dhrubo listened.
“He was brilliant. Reckless. The kind of man who believed love alone could save people.”
A sad smile crossed her face.
“But illness changes pride into desperation.”
She removed one white glove carefully.
The old burn scar on her wrist looked darker beneath the weak light.
“Before dying, Arindam learned about the child.”
“Ritam.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted to see the boy once.”
“And did he?”
Leela nodded faintly.
“From a distance.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened afterward?”
“Arindam died three weeks later.”
Silence.
“So the man on Harrison Road was not him.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Leela closed her eyes.
“When Ritam died… something inside Anadi broke.”
The detective said nothing.
Some truths reveal themselves only if uninterrupted.
Leela continued softly.
“After the funeral, Anadi became obsessed with the idea that he had destroyed Meera’s life.”
“He delayed the transfusion.”
“Yes.”
“And he knew it.”
Rainwater dripped steadily from the ceiling now.
“Meera tried to forgive him,” Leela whispered.
“But guilt transforms love into suspicion.”
Dhrubo’s gaze sharpened.
“What do you mean?”
“He began imagining things.”
The room fell silent again.
“At first it was harmless. He believed he saw Arindam near tram stations… near markets… outside the house.”
The detective’s thoughts moved quickly now.
“A dead rival haunting him.”
“Yes.”
Leela’s voice trembled.
“Eventually he convinced himself Arindam had returned to take Meera away.”
Dhrubo looked toward the rain-dark window.
The pieces finally began aligning.
The mysterious man.
The arguments.
The fear.
And the sentence from Harrison Road:
“If your husband learns the truth, it will destroy him.”
Not because of scandal.
Because Anadi’s mind was already collapsing beneath grief and guilt.
“Did Meera know this?” Dhrubo asked.
“Yes.”
“And that night?”
Leela inhaled slowly from her cigarette.
“That night Meera asked me to meet her after she spoke to Anadi.”
“What about?”
“She wanted to leave Kolkata for some time.”
“To protect him?”
“To save him.”
Thunder shook the old clinic.
Then Dhrubo asked quietly:
“What really happened after she left Harrison Road?”
For the first time, Leela looked afraid to answer.
“She went to Sealdah Station.”
“With Anadi following her?”
“Yes.”
“Did they meet?”
Leela nodded weakly.
“And?”
The old woman’s eyes filled slowly.
“Anadi begged her not to leave.”
The detective remained silent.
“She told him she would return once he recovered.”
“But?”
Leela’s hands trembled violently now.
“He thought she was abandoning him for Arindam.”
Dhrubo understood before she finished.
The old woman whispered:
“So he followed her onto Platform Three.”
Rain roared through the broken corridor.
Then came the sentence that shattered the last illusion completely.
“And in front of the last train that night… Anadi saw a dead man standing beside his wife.”