The call came just as Aisha was finishing her tea. Sana’s name on the screen felt foreign. “You’re in Bangalore?” Aisha howled into the phone. “Crazy girl! And you’re calling me now?”

Sana’s voice was flat, “Ma asked me to.”

“How long are you here?” Aisha sounded excited to hear her sister’s voice.

“Just a day. I’m already heading to the airport.”

“Nothing doing! Let me drop you off at least.” Aisha’s stubborn words came fast.

Sana hesitated. Then, let out a sigh. “Alright. Departure Gate 4. I’ll be there by 8.”

As Aisha hung up, she felt a tinge of excitement, maybe relief. The last time she had seen Sana, she had been a lanky schoolgirl. Now, she ran her own design firm.

A decade. A lifetime apart.

At 8, Aisha spotted her at the pre-decided spot. The same eyes, the same tilt of her head, but the warmth had been drained from her face. Sana’s hair was longer now, her shoulders squared, and her expression unreadable.

Aisha hurried forward, steadying herself before smiling. “It’s so nice to see you.”

A small smile flickered on Sana’s lips. 

Aisha was unwilling to let the stiffness between them settle. “It’s been ten years. You’ve grown into this incredible woman, and I’m so proud of you.”

Sana shrugged. “Yeah. After you left home, I wasn’t sure how things would turn out. Dad’s still miffed with you.”

Aisha swallowed. 

Years ago when she had eloped and settled in Bangalore, she hadn’t looked back. She didn’t realise the rubble she had left behind her, and how that would've affected Sana. 

“I’m sorry,” Aisha said. Her uncertain voice was softer now. “I never thought about what it must have been like for you.”

The delayed realization came too late. Sana was already turning away.

“Time for me to go,” she said. Spinning her strolly around, she strode toward the entry gate.

Aisha stood frozen, watching her disappear into the crowd. A tear burned at the edge of her lashes, but she let it sit there.

Next morning, she called her mother. “Has she reached?” she asked.

Her mother hesitated. “Did you get to meet her?”

“Yes, but… she’s not home yet?”

“She’s supposed to return tomorrow.”

Aisha pulled the phone from her ear, staring at it.

“She… she left on the 9:45 flight to Mumbai,” she said, her voice cracking.

A pause.

“There was no 9:45 flight,” her mother said. "She is returning tomorrow."

The room closed in. Aisha’s breath came sharp and jagged. Unable to establish contact with Sana, she drove straight to the airport.

In the security office, the manager pulled up the footage. Aisha watched the screen, waiting to see Sana. But there was nothing. She saw herself. Standing alone. Waving at empty air.

Just then her phone buzzed: "Atone."

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled up. All of Sana’s messages were gone. Every word, every call. Disappered. The word ‘atone’ vanished in the air right before her eyes.

She turned to the manager. “Can you check the passenger list for the 9:45 Mumbai flight?”

The man frowned. “There wasn’t a flight to Mumbai at 9:45.”

Aisha’s breath hitched.

Her phone buzzed again with a new message: "Now, you won’t forget me, ever."