Backstage, the noise of the bar dimmed into muffled echoes. A man counted crumpled notes into Gauri's trembling hands, his tone businesslike, devoid of sympathy.
"Your payment."
She clutched the money, her fingers tightening around it as hot tears blurred her vision. Turning away quickly, she pressed the notes to her chest, whispering under her breath, "For Charvi… everything I do is for her. Even if it means this shame."
As she stepped outside, the humid night air hit her face, carrying with it the faint stench of alcohol and damp asphalt. Gauri walked with measured steps, her tears sliding freely now, her voice breaking in a whisper only she could hear.
"Do people… do people really get such mothers? Or is mine cursed upon me?"
She wiped her cheeks fiercely, forcing her back straight. Her taxi was parked at a distance, headlights glowing faintly like a promise of escape. She quickened her pace.
But then—the air shifted. A prickling sensation crawled along her spine. She stopped. Slowly turned.
Nothing. Just shadows stretching under the flickering streetlamp.
Exhaling sharply, she shook her head. Just nerves. She walked faster.
The feeling returned—stronger. She spun again, and this time her heart lurched into her throat.
He was there.
The hooded man, half his face drowned in shadow, eyes gleaming unnaturally purple. In his hand gleamed a rusted metal pipe, lifted ever so slightly as he stepped toward her with eerie calm.
"Stay back!" Gauri shouted, her voice trembling but defiant. "I'm warning you—don't come closer!"
The hooded man didn't falter. His silence was heavier than words, his steps unhurried but inevitable.
Panic seized her. She turned and ran, her anklets clinking wildly against the pavement. The world blurred with fear until—
She collided with a solid chest. Her body pitched forward, but strong arms caught her before she could hit the ground.
Startled, she looked up.
It was a man. Vihaan though name unknown to her.
Their eyes locked—her gaze wide with terror, his sharp with both anger and unspoken concern. For a fleeting moment, the world stilled around them, the distant hum of Mumbai fading into silence.
And just beyond the shadows, the hooded man stood still, watching.
Vihaan steadied Gauri, his hands firm on her trembling shoulders. "Easy. You're safe," he said, his voice low and commanding.
Gauri's breath came in sharp gasps. "T-there… there was a man! A hooded man—he was right—" She turned, pointing toward the shadows where terror had stalked her.
But the space was empty. Silent. The hooded man had vanished, as if swallowed by the night.
Her panic deepened. "I swear he was there! With a pipe, he—"
"Calm down," Vihaan interrupted gently but firmly, his eyes scanning the dark alley with suspicion. "You're not imagining things. But right now, you're safe."
Just then, Harsh jogged over, eyes flicking between them. "Sir, what happened?"
Vihaan's gaze lingered on the empty shadows before shifting back to Gauri. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his police identification, holding it before her. "ACP Vihaan Kothari. Meet me tomorrow at the station."
Gauri blinked, still shaken. "The station? Why? What do you want from me?"
His voice was steady, unreadable. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow."
She hesitated, still clutching the money from her dance, her fear warring with distrust. Before she could answer, Vihaan spoke again, his tone softer. "It's for your safety."
Then he gestured toward the waiting taxi. "I'll drop you."
Gauri shook her head quickly. "No… I already have a cab. I'll manage."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he walked beside her, eyes scanning the shadows until they reached the vehicle.
At the door, Gauri paused, meeting his eyes for a brief second. "Thank you… for saving me."
Vihaan gave a short nod, his expression unreadable, though his gaze lingered as she stepped inside. The taxi pulled away, her figure swallowed by the city night.
Vihaan stood there, his hands in his pockets, staring after the car, the unease of the hooded man's disappearance gnawing at him.
The taxi's exhaust still hung faintly in the air when Gauri stumbled into the chawl. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the lock, the key rattling against metal until at last the door gave way. She slammed it shut behind her, twisting the bolt with a final clank, as if the lock itself could keep the night—and its horrors—away.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Tears streaked her kohl-lined eyes as she pressed her back to the door, sliding down until her knees nearly buckled.
"Didi!"
Charvi rushed forward, her thin frame trembling as she threw her arms around Gauri. "Why are you crying? What happened?"
Gauri tightened her grip on her sister, burying her face against her shoulder. But then she pulled back, forcing a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. I can't tell her. She's already too fragile…
"It's nothing, Charvi," she whispered, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "Just the smoke from the bar, maybe. It stings the eyes."
But Charvi's eyes—bright and innocent, always too perceptive—searched her face. "No, Didi… I saw it." Her voice quivered. "I had a dream. A man in a hood… chasing you. He almost caught you."
Gauri froze, her breath catching in her throat. The same man… Her heart pounded as she stared at her sister, a chill creeping through her veins.
Before she could respond, the sharp bang of a hand on the doorframe shattered the moment.
Gayatri stood there, her eyes glittering with cold impatience. "Enough of this drama. Give me the money."
Gauri swallowed her fear and quickly dug into her bag. The crumpled notes felt heavier than lead in her trembling hands as she extended them. Gayatri snatched the bundle, her nails grazing Gauri's skin, and began counting meticulously, each note slapped against her palm with disdain.
"I don't trust you," Gayatri sneered, her lips curling. "For all I know, you've hidden a portion away for that weakling's treatment."
At her words, Gauri's spine stiffened. She rose to her full height, eyes flashing through her tears. "I would never treat my sister with filthy money," she said, her voice breaking but firm. "Never."
Charvi clutched Gauri's hand tightly, as though trying to lend her strength. Gayatri only smirked, slipping the money into her blouse with a cruel chuckle, the sound echoing in the dim, suffocating room.