A Valentine's Algorithm
Copyright© 2026 by Tantrayaan
Chapter 15
The light in the hospital room had been sterile. But the light in Vikram’s apartment was worse. It was the light of a sunset that didn’t know the world had ended.
Inna stood in the doorway. Her key trembling in her hand.
She’d seen him at the ceremony two days ago. He’d stood on that stage under harsh auditorium lights. A hollowed-out version of the man she loved. Empty. Still. He looked like a husk of the man she knew. She was the only person that he spoke to. When he saw her, he hugged her. He held her hand throughout the pompous ceremony for a town that preferred to be ignorant until it was forced to see.
The mayor had spoken of civic duty. The Chief had spoken of ultimate sacrifice. Grand sweeping words to dress up the fact that a brilliant woman had been beaten to death while the city she was saving looked the other way.
Then Vikram had stepped to the podium.
He hadn’t looked at the cameras or the rows of strangers. He’d looked at the small velvet-lined box in his hands. His speech had been barely a minute long.
“She didn’t do it for the city. She didn’t do it for justice. She did it because she believed the truth was the only thing worth leaving behind for the people you love. She saved you all but she was only ever trying to save me. And I was too late.”
The silence that followed had been heavier than any applause.
Now Inna stepped into the apartment. The air was stale. Old coffee smell. The metallic scent of a life that had stalled.
She didn’t call his name. She knew he wouldn’t answer.
She found him in the living room. Lying on the hardwood floor where the afternoon sun hit the dust.
He was curled tight. Knees pulled to his chest. Like he was trying to occupy the smallest space possible.
He didn’t look up when she approached. He was a zombie. A man whose soul was gone. Leaving only the breathing aching machinery of a body.
Inna dropped to her knees beside him, her heart breaking.
In his right hand he clutched a photo. The one from the botanical gardens. His thumb pressed so hard against Elara’s face the glass was smudged.
In his left hand, knuckles white, he held the gold medal. The ribbon tangled around his wrist.
“Vikram,” she whispered. Her voice breaking.
He didn’t move. He was staring at the space between the floorboards. Eyes wide. Unblinking.
“Vikram, please. Look at me.”
She reached out. Fingers trembling. Touched his shoulder.
He flinched. Not away from her. But like the sensation of being physical was agony he couldn’t endure.
“I’m here. I’m not leaving. I don’t care if you never say another word. I’m not leaving you in the dark.”
She shifted. Sat on the floor behind him. Pulled his head into her lap.
He was stiff at first. Frozen. But as she began to stroke his hair, a long shuddering breath escaped him. Jagged. Horrific. The sound of a man finally admitting he was drowning.
She looked up at the shelf where the wooden crown had once sat. She’d brought it back. It was in her bag. Tucked away. Waiting for a day when he might be able to see it again.
She didn’t ask him to be the man from the bar. She didn’t ask him to love her.
She just held him. Her tears falling onto his shoulder. While the shadows grew long.
He was holding the past in both hands. But Inna held him.
She would wait for the wood to remember its queen. And for the man to remember how to live.
Even if it took forever. Even if he never looked at her with anything but ghosts in his eyes.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered into the silence. “I’ve got you, Vikram.”
Fall turned to winter. However, for Inna, it was marked not by weather but by the slow thawing of the man in the living room.
She had moved into Vikram’s apartment piece by piece. First she brought over a toothbrush. Then a stack of sweaters. Finally, the fierce unyielding presence of a woman who refused to let him fade.
She’d traded her badge for a sabbatical. Her gun for a tea kettle. The department fell over themselves to give the hero cop a much deserved vacation.
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