The Road stretched endlessly before them, a thin ribbon of darkness swallowed by trees on either side. Karan kept the speed steady, never too fast, never slow enough to invite attention. The silence inside the car wasn't empty. it was crowded with thoughts none of them dared to speak aloud.
Khushi stared out the window, watching streetlights flicker past like dying stars. Each one felt like a countdown, a reminder that time was moving whether they were ready or not. The letter lay hidden in her bag, yet its presence felt loud, alive, pulsing with secrets that could tear lives apart if exposed.
Ron broke the silence first, his voice low but firm. "We can't keep driving blindly. If Sanjay's men realize Mama's gone, they'll widen the net. Highways, toll booths, hospitals...those will be the first places they check."
Mama's fingers tightened around the edge of his seat. "Then don't take the highways," he said quietly. "Sanjay always thinks big. He forgets the smaller paths exist."
Karan nodded slowly. "Village roads. Old routes. Places no one bothers to watch."
The car veered off soon after, tires crunching softly against uneven ground as the city thinned behind them. The air changed cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of soil and distant water. Somewhere far away, a dog barked, the sound echoing like a warning through the fields.
Khushi finally looked at Mama. In the dim light, his face seemed older than before, carved by years of fear and waiting. Yet beneath the exhaustion, there was something new a fragile resolve, trembling but present.
"You haven't slept properly in years, have you?" she asked softly.
Mama gave a faint smile that never reached his eyes. "Sleep is a luxury for those who believe tomorrow will be peaceful."
Her chest tightened. She understood that feeling too well.
As the car rolled onward, the road narrowed further until even the moonlight struggled to find them. Karan slowed, pulling the car under a canopy of banyan trees beside an abandoned temple, its stone walls cracked but standing.
"We'll rest here for a while," he said. "Just enough to breathe."
They stepped out one by one, stretching stiff limbs. The night wrapped around them, deep and watchful. Somewhere inside the temple, a bell stirred faintly in the breeze, its hollow sound unsettling yet grounding.
Mama sank onto the temple steps, exhaustion finally claiming him. Ron handed him a bottle of water, crouching nearby, alert even as he rested. Karan moved a short distance away, scanning the road, his silhouette rigid against the moonlight.
Khushi stood apart, her back against the cold stone wall, the weight inside her chest growing heavier with every passing second.
This was it.
Running had bought them time.....but not safety.
She opened her bag slowly, fingers brushing against the worn edges of the letter. Her breath caught. Sonali's handwriting stared back at her like a ghost refusing to be ignored.
Ron noticed. His gaze sharpened. "You're thinking about reading it."
"I'm thinking," Khushi replied quietly, "that whatever's in here is already controlling our lives. Maybe it's time we let it speak."
Mama stirred. His eyes flicked to the letter, and for a moment, pure fear crossed his face. Not for himself but for them.
"Once you read it," he said hoarsely, "there's no turning back."
Khushi met his gaze without flinching. "We crossed that line the moment they started watching your house."
The temple bell rang again, louder this time, as if urging her on.
She unfolded the letter.
The paper was thin, fragile with age, yet the words written upon it were steady, deliberate. Sonali had known exactly what she was doing.
My children,If you are reading this, then I am no longer there to protect you. And if the world has already shown you its cruelty, forgive me for not being able to shield you longer.
Khushi's throat tightened. The night seemed to lean closer, listening.
What I am about to tell you will place a burden on your hearts. But truth, even when it wounds, is kinder than lies that rot in silence.
Ron moved closer, reading over her shoulder, his jaw hardening with every line.
The accident was no accident.
Khushi's breath stopped.
Mama closed his eyes.
I knew Sanjay was watching me. I knew he suspected. But I didn't think he would dare… not until it was too late.
The letter trembled in Khushi's hands.
Khushi, Ron...you were meant to inherit more than my name. There is property, accounts, evidence, things Sanjay believed he could claim once I was gone. I hid them. Not for greed, but for safety. Because power in the wrong hands becomes a weapon.
Ron cursed under his breath, the sound sharp in the stillness.
If Sanjay ever discovers the full truth, he will not stop. He will destroy anyone who stands between him and what he believes is his.
Khushi swallowed hard, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Mama has guarded this secret at great cost. Trust him. Protect him. And above all...do not underestimate Sanjay Patil.
The letter ended there. No goodbye. No apology. Just a warning carved in ink.
Silence fell heavy and absolute.
Karan returned quietly, sensing the shift. "So," he said, voice grim, "it's worse than we thought."
Ron straightened slowly. "This isn't just about revenge anymore. This is about survival."
Mama looked at Khushi then, really looked at her not as a frightened child, but as the woman she had become. "Now you understand why I was afraid."
Khushi folded the letter carefully, her hands no longer shaking.
"Yes," she said, her voice calm in a way that startled even her. "And now I understand something else."
Ron glanced at her. "What?"
She lifted her gaze to the dark road ahead, eyes burning with a quiet, dangerous clarity. "Sanjay thinks he's hunting us."
A slow smile curved her lips not soft, not kind.
"But he's wrong."
The temple bell rang once more, loud and final.
"We're done running," Khushi said. "From this moment on… we choose when the hunt begins."
The night didn't answer.
But somewhere, far away, a storm began to gather