The Ebb, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

I was calling her after thirty years. With each round of ring, my excitement surged. “Hi, Joy, It’s you? Just unbelievable! Where’re you? What’re you doing? I’m so excited to be reconnected to you after so many, so many years.” The call ended, unattended. I went on redialling. Finally, she picked up. I heard her speak, “Oh! Joy, I’m now settled. And look, I’m too busy to talk. Sorry.” And immediately she disconnected. The ebb laid bare the unsettling question. Was it a murder or a suicide? Or both?