Episode : 3
Step Back
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Alex replayed that moment over and over.
They were on the roof, having a lovely dinner date. Lena had been laughing, her auburn hair whipping in the wind, cheeks pink with cold.
He spun and over the edge he saw she was on the ground. Blood soaking through her white coat. She looked still, eyes wide open, lips parted, as if about to say something, a word caught in her throat forever. Then the silence. Her last breath was nothing but a sigh.
Alex and Lena had moved into the apartment just a month ago. It was supposed to be a new chapter. Once this home was filled with laughs and the voice of Lena, now it was quiet, too quiet. The silence pressed down on Alex’s chest heavier than grief itself. It has been a week, he hadn’t left his apartment since the incident. He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. He would stare at her photos for hours. Wondering what if he had moved faster? Pulled her back?
He hadn’t touched her things, couldn’t. Until tonight. Alex was looking at Lena’s things from old cupboards. Her books. Her clothes. Her jewelry. Everything had a smell of her. In one of the drawers he found something unfamiliar, nestled in a velvet pouch, a small, antique pocket watch, working. Gilded edges. A cracked glass face. It wasn’t theirs. It might belong to the tenant staying here before them. He turned it over. Etched into the tarnished brass back, in tiny cursive letters, were the words: What if you could go back and fix it?”
Alex stared. His breath caught. His thumb brushed the side of the watch, feeling a tiny, stiff knob, delicate, but functional. He hesitated. Then slowly turned it counterclockwise. One tick. Then another. The hands of the watch groaned back with resistance. Then he pressed the crown. Click.
The room flickered. The floor beneath him seemed to dip. A rushing sound filled his ears, like waves crashing through a tunnel. The world folded in on itself, colors draining into darkness.
Black. Silence.
Then birds. A breeze. The scent of wine. Alex opened his eyes. He was back on the rooftop terrace, bathed in dusk. He couldn’t believe that he was back in time. He checked the date on his phone, it showed December 14. A day when she died. The wine bottle was still full. The table set. The sky a bruised purple.
She came up behind him, wine glasses in hand. “You okay, Alex?”
Lena—God, she was alive. He stared at her. Every freckle on her face, the chipped green nail polish on her fingers. Real. Alive. Now.
“I just... missed this,” he whispered.
She tilted her head, amused. “Missed what? We’ve been together all day.”
He gave a weak smile.
"Here," he said suddenly, reaching out and gently tugging her away from the terrace edge. "Let’s sit away from the edge. It’s windy.”
Lena gave him a coy smile. “What, you think I’ll fly off like a paper doll?”
He didn’t say anything. Just watched her.
She shrugged and moved in. “You’re being all... clingy and dramatic tonight.”
They sat on the dinner table. Eating, talking, drinking. Lena’s phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up. She glanced at it and flipped it face down, silencing the call.
“You can take it if it’s important.” Alex said gently.
“It’s nothing. I’ll call back later. Let’s not ruin the night. It’s our date.” She raises her glass. Clink.
Alex kept glancing at the edge of the roof, no more than ten feet away. The same edge she had once fallen from.
When she stood up to stretch, he was on his feet instantly, hand hovering just behind her back like a shadow. Every step she took, his eyes flicked to her feet, to her balance, to the slight tilt of the terrace tiles.
She turned, caught his stare. “What’s gotten into you? Are you secretly afraid of heights now?”
He hesitated, then softened his voice. “Just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She rolled her eyes, playfully dramatic. “Aww... how romantic. But weird!”
His chest tightened.
She twirled, barefoot on the rough terrace tiles, carefree. “Come on, lighten up.” She danced toward the edge.
“Lena, stop!” he shouted. “Please, don’t—”
But she was already skipping backward. “Come dance with me!” she called out with a wicked grin, spinning once, arms wide like wings, dancing.
“Stop! Please!” he sprinted, adrenaline exploding in his chest.
Just as she leaned back, pretending to lose balance, he reached her. He grabbed her waist and yanked her away from the drop, pulling her tightly into his chest. His breath came in shallow bursts. Lena started laughing.
“Are you insane? This is not funny! You could have fallen.” he gasped, clutching her like she might disappear.
She looked up at him. Then she leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear.
“I’m not the one falling, Alex… you are.,” Lena whispered. Her hands shoved hard against his chest.
“Wha—?”
His feet slipped. His body lurched backward. Wind roared past his ears. The sky spun. The edge rushed up. Then—THUD.
That one blink of a second stretched forever. Lena stood at the roof’s edge, arms crossed, tilting her head like an artist admiring a finished painting. Then came her crooked smile. Icy. Unforgiving. She winked. Alex lay in a pool of blood, exactly where—in another timeline—Lena had fallen.
She turned, picked up her wine glass, and took a slow sip. Pulled out her phone.
“He’s gone,” she said. “Bring the bag. And bring a bottle. I feel like celebrating.” Lust dripped from her voice. The wind scattered her words into the night.
Alex died without ever learning the truth about Lena. And Lena lived on, never knowing Alex had once tried to save her. And the watch lay cold on the rooftop table, ticking—as it always had—cold, silent, and merciless.
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Gujarati translations of "Babes, Blood and Bots" is also available now.
