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Delhi – April 2026
The smoke wasn't drifting anymore — it was choking. Thick, black, alive. It curled around buildings and clawed at the sky like something furious had been let loose.
Aarav ran.
Not like a hero. Not like someone brave.
Like a son.
Each step was jagged, uneven. His legs screamed. His lungs burned. The world around him blurred — fire, gunfire, screaming, dust — all smeared into a single, deafening blur.
He sprinted through wreckage that used to be streets. Cars overturned. Bodies unrecognizable. Air heavy with blood and burning plastic.
"MOM!"
His voice cracked.
"MOM!"
No answer. Just chaos.
He ducked behind a broken wall as bullets ripped through the air. Somewhere above, a chopper screeched overhead. The sound of war wasn't distant anymore — it was right here, in his face, screaming like a dying animal.
Then he saw her.
Through the swirling ash and rubble, she limped from the mall's ruins, one arm hanging limp, her clothes torn, face streaked with blood and dust.
"Mom!"
His throat was raw.
She turned. Her eyes widened.
"Aarav?! What the hell are you doing here?!"
He ran, stumbling over concrete, glass crunching beneath his feet. His heart pounded out an apology he didn't know how to say.
"I thought— I thought you were—"
"I told you to stay inside!"
"I couldn't— I couldn't just sit there!"
They met halfway — not in an embrace, but in a frantic, terrified stare. Her lip trembled, but she laughed — just once, like she couldn't believe it.
"You idiot," she whispered. "You stupid, stupid boy."
He almost smiled.
Then the sky tore open.
BOOM.
The explosion didn't sound like thunder. It sounded like the end of the world.
Heat slammed into him, lifted him off his feet, and threw him backward like paper in a storm.
Concrete met his spine. All the air rushed out of his chest.
The world turned sideways.
Silence — sharp and ringing.
Then flames. Dust. The color orange swallowing everything.
His body wouldn't move. His ears buzzed. His ribs ached like they'd cracked in half.
Aarav blinked through smoke.
Where the mall had been — was nothing.
Only fire. Twisted steel. Shattered glass. Cries buried under rubble.
"Mom...?"
His voice was a whisper. A prayer.
He dragged himself forward. Arms trembling. Elbows tearing open on jagged stone.
"Mom... please..."
No response.
He reached the crater. Ash and sparks danced in the air like dying stars.
He screamed.
"MAAAAAAAAAA!"
He tried to stand. Couldn't.
Pain shot up his right leg like electricity. He looked down.
The bone had torn through the skin. His foot hung useless. Metal jutted out from his thigh — sharp, ugly, red.
He almost vomited.
But worse than the pain was the silence.
No "stay back."
No "be careful."
No "I love you."
Just smoke.
He broke.
Tears poured freely now, no shame left.
"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry, Ma…"
He curled into himself, fists pressed to his temples.
"You made me food I didn't eat… you begged me to talk, and I rolled my eyes. I shut you out. I shut you out and now—"
He slammed his fist against the ground.
Once. Twice.
Blood smeared into the dirt.
"I should've been in that fire. I should've—"
His eyes blurred. His hand reached back and grabbed a piece of broken rebar.
Jagged. Heavy.
He gripped it.
Raised it.
To his own throat.
He trembled.
"I don't deserve to live."
He shut his eyes.
Then—
A hand.
Rough. Solid. Warm.
Gripping his wrist.
"Not like this," a voice said. Calm. Deep. Commanding.
Aarav looked up.
A soldier. Face blackened with soot. Eyes tired but focused.
"If you want to die," the man said, "then take that death and use it. Make it mean something."
Aarav stared at him.
The metal rod clattered to the ground.
He sobbed.
And for the first time since the war began — someone held him.
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To be continued →
> The sun hadn't fallen. It was buried. Waiting. And the boy who thought he'd lost everything — had just started burning.