"To all the lost people out there who wanted to be loved, cared and missed. And to those wanted someone to hold their hands tightly enough to not get lost. Again. In the all-consuming darkness which no longer gives peace."

____________

"He was a devil who came into my life like a storm and opened my scars just to fill them with beautiful memories."
-Ananya

"She was the peace I never knew I needed until I saw her. And I knew then that I would never let her go, by hook or by crook."
-Ricardo
____________

-PROLOGUE-

The evening air among the mountains smelled like burning.

The smoke spiraled upward from an overturned car dissolving with the warm air above. The faint smell of petroleum lingered in the surroundings.

The liquid leaked from the car to spread itself across the road. The air faintly echoed the sound of continuous blare of horns of the overturned car and beeping of the emergency signal.

Inside the car, two people hung upside down due to the seat belt—ones which promised safety, now were impossible to remove when it wasn't needed anymore. One was a woman and the other was a man—both around their thirties. The man extended a trembling hand, breathing heavily, towards his wife. The woman who was now beside him. He wanted to open her belt so she could—at least—escape but his own hand shook. His vision blurred.

The woman was still unconscious—or that's what he thought. The man shook his head in order to clear the daze he went for a moment. He subtly shook the woman to wake her up. To get any response from her but she remained motionless, as if to test his patience—like always. His seatbelt metal pierced his own abdomen, refusing to let him escape.

Her hands were dangling above her head, touching the roof of the car. Her phone switched on automatically, as if lightening up the dark space inside the car. It showed the wallpaper of the lockscreen—three hands tangled together on the soft surface of a white blanket–a child's infant hand, wrapped by a woman's hand and then at last wrapped by the man's hand.

The man's eyes watered seeing the wallpaper—his little family, he built with so much love was crumbling at the moment. He checked his wife's pulses in the wrist—an act he was avoiding all along. Maybe he knew the results already. She was no more with him. He looked outside the broken window of his car only to see a truck, which hit them, and his broken, smashed phone which resembled his heart now. The driver of the truck was nowhere to be seen.

He picked up his wife's phone, the one he never checked—he never needed to. He opened its password as his wife told him every time, "04022000." His little angel's birthday. Their little angel's birthday.

The home screen automatically opened to messenger background. An unread voicemail by his wife's friend was sent—the one who was taking care of his daughter while they were out on a long drive.

He tapped on it, opening the voicemail. A childish gibberish instantly started to float in the dense heavy air of the car. His little angel's voice who just started to speak, "Mama..pap.." A voice from the background of the voicemail came—manly, elderly, his wife's friend's—helping her to pronounce the words clearly, encouraging to say her properly.

A tear finally escaped the man's eyes. His daughter now knew how to speak. But he wasn't present to relish it. He wasn't there to hold her in his arms again to twirl her. They weren't with her to support her.

He stabilised his breathes, or whatever he managed to do so, and spoke through another voicemail, "Mein hamesha tumhare saath hoon, maa. Maybe not physically, but always with you. Tumhare har kadam mein hum dono saath rahenge." His voice cracked when he said 'dono' but he continued, "Teri maa kehti thi.. hamesha meri dhal banke rahegi. Aur mein kehta ki mein usey kabhi bijharne nhi dunga. Aur shayad, aaj wahi hoya.. aaj bhi thi mere saath..mere dhal banke.. aur mein apna wada bhi nibhaunga—uski saath jakar."

[I am always with you, darling. Maybe not physically, but always with you. We both will be with you in every step." His voice cracked when he said 'both' but he continued, "Your mother used to say... she will always be my shield. And I used to say that I will never let her get separated from me. And perhaps, the same thing happened today... she was with me today... she kept her promise... and I will fulfill my promise too—by going with her."]

His voice was taut with emotion, he still continued, "Tere saath kam wakt bitaya hain na? Maaf kar dena. Tu apni maa ki tarah ho strong hain. Uski tarah natkhat hain. Tu chinta mat kar lekin, meri beti hain na tu.. sabse strong hain tu. Jeeti rahe. Alvida.." His voice trailed off at the end, emotions catching up.

["I have spent less time with you, right? Please forgive me. I know you are strong like your mother. You are naughty like her. Don't worry, you are my girl... And you are the strongest. May you live happily. Bye.."]

He sent the voice message with the blue button. The message was delivered. He always called his daughter his 'maa' because he was an orphan. He kept the phone slowly aside to turn and see his wife.

He casted a long glance at his wife beside him, eyes closed, lips twitched almost like a smile. Almost like she heard what he said. That's impossible, isn't it?

He won in his life, but couldn't live his victory.

He gave a woeful smile to his wife and then closed his eyes.

She was his final seven minutes—the life his soul would replay before the end—just like he wished once. And he wished for her and their daughter in every lifetime.

The car finally burst and flames erupted high. The flames touched the peak of the mountain as if making a way for the couples to ascend the heaven.  The smoke polluted the surroundings.

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I am not crying, are you guys?

Ever heard of seven minutes theory, lovelies?💔