The Surprise Visitor (670 words)

It was unusually dark that night. The heavy rain had stopped, but a persistent drizzle continued, deepening the gloom in Suguna’s already heavy heart. She sat alone in her apartment, resting on the sofa, doing nothing in particular. She felt neither hungry nor sleepy.

Suddenly, the apartment was plunged into darkness. The wretched electricity department had cut the power due to waterlogging somewhere nearby. She wanted to light some candles but couldn’t recall where she had kept them.

In the dim light filtering through the window, she noticed a figure sitting on the opposite sofa. She froze. From behind, it looked unmistakably like her father (appa). He hadn’t been there before the power outage—he must have entered after the lights went out. The broad shoulders, the smooth, bald crown of his head, and the familiar way he reclined all pointed to one thing: it was him.

But how could it be? It had to be a stranger.

The figure rose suddenly and walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside to let in a sliver of moonlight. His gait, the way he moved, it was identical to her father’s. Yet fear kept her rooted. She couldn’t bring herself to move closer. It couldn’t really be him… could it?

Her mind went back to the accident on the highway, a few months earlier. She and her father(appa) had been returning from the mall. He was driving steadily at 70 miles per hour in the fast lane when a vehicle in the second lane suddenly veered into their path. Her father had swerved to avoid it and crashed into the divider. Just before she lost consciousness, she had seen a gaping wound in his upper chest, blood gushing out. She saw him slump in his seat, motionless.

He hadn’t survived. She was certain of it.

So, who was this man?

Filled with dread, Suguna tiptoed toward her bedroom. The apartment, so familiar in daylight, now felt alien in the dark. She moved slowly, carefully.

Then she heard it.

“Suguna!”

The cry rang out like an anguished wail, echoing through the apartment. It didn’t sound like someone calling her name; it sounded like a heart being torn open. Again it came, louder, more desperate:

“Suguna!”

She froze. The voice filled her with terror. She couldn’t bring herself to respond or even move toward the door. She was alone. She couldn’t risk drawing his attention. And she couldn’t flee either, as he was still in the drawing room.

Then, suddenly, the power returned. Light flooded the room.

She heard footsteps approaching. He was coming into her bedroom.

Suguna quickly hid behind the curtains.

The man’s figure was stooped, his posture heavy with sorrow. He moved slowly, silently, as if crushed by grief. He looked around the room, touched the edge of her bed, and gently ran his fingers over the pillow. Then he walked to the dresser, where her photo stood in a frame. He stared at it for a long time, eyes filled with tears. Carefully, with trembling hands, he picked it up, wiped the glass with his shirt, and brought the picture to his lips.

Groaning through his sobs, he whispered,

“Suguna… why did you leave me? I should have died in that accident. You were so young, with your whole life ahead of you. My years were spent. How cruel God has been…”

He wept openly now, and Suguna’s heart broke at the sight. This was no stranger. It had to be her father… revisiting her, in grief.

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, and whispered,

“Appa, please don’t cry. I’m right here. I’ll join you when my days are done.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her voice. He didn’t feel her touch. After a few minutes, he gently placed the photo back, walked out of the room, switched off the lights, locked the door behind him, and left.

Suguna followed him to the front door and watched in silence as he drove away into the night.