The silence between them lingered, broken only by the relentless patter of rain. Gauri rubbed her arms, shivering under the chill, her breath still uneven.
Vihaan tore his gaze away first, his voice gruff but steady. "You shouldn't be out here alone after what just happened."
Gauri blinked at him, startled. "What… what do you mean?"
"I'll drop you home," Vihaan said simply, his tone firm—more an instruction than an offer.
Her eyes widened. She hadn't expected help from him, not after the way he had insulted her earlier that evening. The same man who had questioned her character was now standing before her, offering her safety. Confusion mingled with fear in her chest, leaving her shaken.
"I…" her voice faltered as she hugged herself tighter. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." His sharp gaze softened for just a fraction of a second. "Don't argue, Ms. Gauri. Get in the cab."
Her cab. The same vehicle she thought had broken down earlier, now inexplicably working again. The thought unsettled her, but the memory of the hooded man still lingered like a shadow in her mind, and she didn't have the strength to resist.
Hesitantly, she nodded. "Alright."
Vihaan gave a curt nod and guided her toward the three-wheeler parked on the roadside. Without hesitation, he slid into the driver's seat, his commanding presence somehow out of place behind the worn steering wheel. He adjusted the mirrors briskly, as though even a humble cab would obey him.
Gauri climbed into the passenger side, still dripping from the rain, her heart hammering with every beat. The cab's engine purred to life under his control, the sound oddly reassuring.
As the vehicle rolled forward through the storm, she found herself staring at him from the corner of her eye. Why is he helping me now?
And despite herself, a thought whispered at the back of her mind: Who exactly is Vihaan Kothari?
The Mumbai night was a wet embrace, the rain drumming a steady rhythm on the cab's tin roof. Seated in the backseat, Gauri's gaze lingered on the back of Vihaan's head as he drove. Mr. Kothari… such pride, such old-fashioned notions sometimes, she mused, yet tonight, he saved me. Twice. From that hooded figure. My unlikely protector.
In the small rearview mirror, his eyes flickered up, meeting hers for the briefest moment before returning to the rain-slicked road ahead. That single glance unsettled her more than the night's danger.
The cab finally shuddered to a stop outside Gauri's chawl, the rain now a softer drizzle. Following her quiet directions, Vihaan switched off the engine. He stepped out, the wet ground immediately soaking his polished shoes. Gauri followed, pulling her dupatta tighter around her shoulders.
"Thank you… Mr. Kothari," she said softly, the formality of his name feeling strange against the intimacy of the stormy night.
Their eyes met under the dim streetlight, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might say something—something human beneath his sharp exterior. But then, a flicker of memory crossed Vihaan's face: her defiance against his mother, the sting of her words about respect. His jaw tightened.
Without a word, without even a nod, he turned and climbed back into the driver's seat. The cab's engine coughed to life, and in moments, he was gone—disappearing into the Mumbai night.
Gauri stood there for a long second, the drizzle soaking her hair, a strange heaviness filling her chest. She exhaled sharply, muttering to herself as she turned toward the chawl's worn doorway.
"What a strange man."
Gauri pushed open the creaky wooden door of her home and slipped inside, water dripping from her hair and clothes, leaving a faint trail on the floor. Her chest still rose and fell unevenly from the storm of emotions she had carried home with her.
Charvi, who had been pacing by the window, turned the instant she heard the door. Relief swept across her face. "Didi!" she rushed over, quickly grabbing a towel from the chair. "You're drenched! Are you okay?"
Gauri forced a smile, though her trembling hands betrayed her. "I'm fine, Charvi. Just… caught in the rain." She took the towel and dabbed her face, trying to disguise the haunted look in her eyes as the image of the hooded man flashed again in her mind.
Charvi, however, wasn't convinced. She hesitated, then picked up a sheet of paper from the table. "Didi… I don't know why, but while you were gone, I kept seeing strange things. My head hurt, and… my hand just started moving."
She turned the page toward Gauri. The crude pencil sketch showed Gauri herself — facing a dark, hooded figure looming with menacing intensity.
Gauri's breath caught in her throat. How could she know? She quickly masked her shock with a laugh, though it sounded thin. "Arrey wah, Charvi! Looks like my little sister has some superpower — drawing premonitions now, haan?" She ruffled Charvi's hair lightly, trying to play it off.
But Charvi's eyes were sharp despite her age. "Didi… did something happen? Did that man… really attack you?" Her voice trembled, torn between fear and certainty.
Gauri's hand froze on the towel. She forced another chuckle, though her heart clenched at the sight of her sister's worried face. "Don't be silly. I was joking. Nothing happened. I just got wet in the rain, that's all."
Charvi studied her for a moment longer, doubt clouding her eyes. But Gauri quickly pulled her into a hug, whispering softly, "You don't need to worry about me, Chotu. I'm fine."
Yet behind her reassuring smile, Gauri's mind churned with fear — because she knew Charvi's drawing wasn't just a random vision.