A Reason - 1

“It would not have been so important to find out what place was mentioned in the diary, but what happened to the lady was,” Carter thought to himself. “It’s been several years since I found this diary, read it a hundred times, and still, it makes me curious about what, how, and when.”

“The diary mentions more about the village as the pages are turned and less and less about the woman,” Carter said to Rita.

“Why is this woman so important to you?” Rita asked, her curiosity tinged with a hint of frustration.

“Rita, you might not understand it. Even if I tried to explain.” Carter looked out the window again. The windshields were up, but the night air made the car cold. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them for warmth.

“Here you go!” Rita activated the heater. Controlling the steering wheel with one hand, she offered a long coat to Carter. “Take this, dumbo. I knew you weren’t going to be prepared. How careless can one be?”

Carter chuckled softly, taking the coat and wrapping it around himself. “Thanks, Rita. You always know what I need.”

Rita glanced at him, her eyes softened with concern. “I just want to understand, Carter. This diary... it’s changed you. You’re so consumed by it.”

Carter sighed, leaning back in the seat. “It’s not just the diary. It’s the story within it. This woman... her life, her struggles, her disappearance... it’s like a puzzle I need to solve. And I feel connected to her, in a way I can’t explain.”

Rita nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not just about solving a mystery. Maybe it’s about finding closure for yourself too.”

Carter looked at her, surprised by her insight. “Maybe you’re right. But until I know what happened to her, I can’t let it go.”

The car continued its journey through the night, the heater humming softly, creating a cocoon of warmth inside. Outside, the world was a blur of darkness and distant lights, a stark contrast to the intense focus within Carter’s mind.

As they drove, Carter couldn’t help but replay the words of the diary in his head. The woman’s journey from the bustling city of Purab to the tranquil, mysterious village. Her discovery of the headless statue. The hints of an ancient story buried in the village’s past. Each detail was a thread in the tapestry of her life, and Carter was determined to weave them together.

“Rita,” he said after a long silence, “do you think it’s possible to find out more about her? I mean, really dig into the history, the village, everything?”

Rita smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Carter, with enough determination, anything is possible. And you, my friend, have more than enough determination. We’ll figure this out together.”

“Rita, what about you? You’re coming with me, right?” asked Carter.

“Oh! Yes, about that, I will try my best, but you know I have to prepare for my upcoming concert, and then—”

Carter interrupted, “Okay, I get it, everyone is busy. That’s cool.”

“I’ll join you soon enough, don’t cry. Why are you acting childish? Jeez,” Rita said, mocking Carter.

“Anyways, Rita, what happened to the boy you were going out with?” Carter inquired, jerking his pockets to find a box of cigarettes.

“Weren’t you going to quit?” Rita questioned Carter.

"*sigh* Yes, but I think not for now,” Carter replied. “Now tell me about him.”

Rita sighed, her playful demeanour fading. “We broke up. Turns out he wasn’t as committed as I thought.”

Carter lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m sorry to hear that. You deserve someone who’s all in.”

“Yeah, well, it’s for the best. I’ve got my music and my friends. I don’t need anyone dragging me down,” Rita said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Carter nodded, appreciating her strength. “You’re right. And you’ll always have me, annoying as I am.”

Rita smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. “Thanks, Carter. That means a lot.”

"Thanks, Carter. You always come through for me," Rita said with a warm smile.

As they drove back to Carter's house, the city lights gradually gave way to the quieter suburbs. The familiar streets and houses brought a sense of comfort. They pulled into the driveway.

When they entered the house, Carter's dad was sitting in the living room, reading a book. He looked up and smiled warmly when he saw Rita.

"Well, look who it is! It's been a while, Rita," Carter's dad said, standing up to give her a hug.

"Hi, Mr. Lewis! It's good to see you again," Rita replied, returning the hug.

"How have you been? And how's your music coming along?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"It's been going well, thank you. Just busy with preparations for my upcoming concert," Rita answered.

"That's great to hear. You two must be hungry?" Mr. Lewis asked.

"Yes, Dad." Carter said.

“Then how about you cook something for us, Rita and I’ll be waiting for you here.” Mr. Lewis said with a chuckle.

“Sure, dad. What would you like to eat.” Carter asked with a frown.

With a laughter Mr. Lewis spoke “I was just kidding, son. I’ll go and whip us something quick for dinner.”

“Thank you, dad.” Said Carter. “I am sorry for bothering you guys.” Siad Rita

“Oh! It’s not a problem.” Mr. Lewis said and went to the kitchen.

While Mr. Lewis prepared dinner, Carter and Rita settled in the living room. The familiar surroundings and the warmth of the house created a cozy atmosphere.

Dinner was a simple but delicious affair. They chatted about their day, the movie, and their friends, enjoying the comfort of each other's company. Afterward, they moved to Carter's room to continue their conversation.

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Rita asked, sitting on the edge of Carter's bed.

"Preparing for the trip to the village," Carter replied, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"I wish I could come with you from the start, but I'll join you as soon as I can," Rita said apologetically.

"I know, and I appreciate that. Rita," Carter said sincerely.

Rita smiled. And went to bed.

Carter went to the study room, where the diary lay, waiting to be re-read like every other night. “Who is this woman, and why did Grandma preserve this diary?” he thought, flipping through its worn pages.

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