SUSH!
Chapter 11: The Last Night
Sush's last night in Europe is in Paris.
She takes the train back from Berlin. Eight hours. She sleeps most of the way.
When she arrives, the city feels different. Familiar now.
She goes back to the same hostel in Montmartre.
The guy at reception recognizes her. "Back again?"
"Just for one night."
She checks into a dorm. Drops her bag.
She has ₹8,000 left.
Enough for the train to the airport tomorrow. Enough for food.
Nothing else.
She's spent everything.
She walks through the city one last time.
The Eiffel Tower. The Seine. The narrow streets of Montmartre.
She sits on the steps of Sacré-Cœur and watches the sunset.
Her phone buzzes.
Ma: when are you coming home?
Rahul: you've been gone forever. i miss you.
Kunal: bring me back something cool
She stares at the messages.
Tomorrow, she'll be on a plane. Back to Delhi, back to Pune, back to her life.
Back to the therapy room and Priya-ma'am and her mother's expectations.
Back to being Sush.
Small. Stuck. Safe.
She doesn't want to go back.
But she has to.
That night, she doesn't go to a bar.
She doesn't meet anyone.
She just walks.
And thinks.
About the past two weeks. About the men and the women and the cities and the sex.
About the way she's been trying to fill something inside herself.
About the way it hasn't worked.
She's had sex with nine different people.
She's been to five cities.
She's spent all her money.
And she still doesn't know what she wants.
But she knows what she doesn't want.
She doesn't want to go back to the therapy centre.
She doesn't want to keep living for other people.
She doesn't want to be small anymore.
When she gets back to the hostel, she opens her laptop.
She writes an email.
> Dear Mrs. Deshmukh, > > I am writing to inform you that I am resigning from my position at the therapy centre, effective immediately. > > This was not an easy decision, but it is the right one for me. > > Thank you for the opportunity to work with the children. I will always be grateful for what I learned. > > Sincerely, > Sushmita Haldar
She reads it three times.
Then she hits send.
© 2025 Atharva Inamdar. Licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. Free to read and share with attribution.