The Last Call

 

It was a quiet, rainy night, and Gautham was driving alone on a deserted highway. His eyes were exhausted after a long workday, but he was eager to reach home. The rain picked up, pounding the windshield like a relentless drumbeat, and the visibility dropped to almost nothing.

Suddenly, through the sheets of rain, a truck swerved into Gautham’s lane. He tried to steer away, but the car lost control and spun off the road, smashing into a tree. The impact was brutal. His head hit the steering wheel, and everything went black for a few seconds. When he opened his eyes, he was pinned inside the wreck. Blood trickled down his forehead, and pain shot through his body every time he tried to move.

Terrified and disoriented, Gautham fumbled for his phone in the darkness. His mind raced. He had no idea how far he was from help, and his voice was weak. Desperately, he opened his contacts. Over 800 numbers were saved, but only one name stood out: Nirmal. Nirmal, his childhood best friend—his partner-in-crime since school days—was the only person he trusted to come. Without thinking twice, Gautham tapped on the contact and called.

The phone rang.

“Pick up, Nirmal... please…” Gautham whispered, his breathing shallow.

A familiar voice answered on the third ring. “Hey, Gautham! What's wrong, buddy? You sound terrible!”

Gautham’s eyes welled up with tears. “I had an accident, Nirmal... I’m stuck... Please, come fast!”

There was a short pause, and then Nirmal’s voice softened. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. I’ll find you. Just hold on.”

Hearing his best friend’s calm voice gave Gautham strength. “Thanks, man... I knew you’d come,” Gautham whispered, as everything started to blur.

And then, everything faded to black.

When Gautham woke up, he found himself in a hospital bed. Bright lights blinded him, and the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor filled the room. A nurse stood beside him, checking his vitals.

“You’re awake! Thank goodness! The ambulance got to you just in time,” she said, smiling warmly.

Confused, Gautham asked, “How did they find me? Who called them?”

The nurse looked puzzled. “We were about to ask you that. Someone must have reported the accident, but we couldn’t trace the caller.”

Suddenly, a wave of realization hit Gautham. Nirmal. He had spoken to Nirmal.

But then, like a cruel slap of reality, the truth flooded his mind—Nirmal had died in an accident two years ago. A drunk driver hit his car one rainy night, just like tonight.

Gautham sat frozen, his heart pounding. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and checked his call log. There it was: "Call to Nirmal—2 minutes."

Tears welled up in Gautham’s eyes. He knew then that some bonds never die. Nirmal had kept his promise—he had come, one last time, to save his friend.

Some friendships transcend life and death. They stay with us, guiding us, and protecting us when we need them the most.