📖 Chapter 19 – The Boy Who Spoke
The morning air at the railway station was thick with the scent of chai and fried snacks, the usual chaos of commuters already swelling into the platforms. Raj's stall, freshly scrubbed and neatly arranged, stood ready to face another day. Arjun whistled cheerfully as he stacked plates, Meena tied her sari tight and counted the change, and Rohit leaned back against the cart with his usual air of defiance. Only Imran moved differently. The boy's hands trembled as he cleaned, his eyes flicking nervously toward Rohit again and again.
Raj noticed the unease almost immediately. "Imran," he said gently, "are you all right?"
The boy froze, clutching the cloth in his small fist. He wanted to speak, to spill everything he had overheard the night before, but the words stuck in his throat. What if Rohit found out? What if Shankar came after him? Yet when he looked into Raj's steady eyes—the same eyes that had given him shelter when no one else had cared—his fear began to loosen.
That evening, when the rush had ended and the others busied themselves packing up, Imran lingered near Raj, tugging at his sleeve. "Bhaiya," he whispered, his voice shaking, "I… I need to tell you something."
Raj crouched so they were eye to eye. "Go on."
Imran swallowed hard, glancing at Rohit, who was distracted arguing with a customer. Then, in a rush of words, he confessed everything: the meeting, the money, Shankar's promises of power and betrayal. His face burned with shame as he finished, as though he were the one guilty of treachery. "I didn't want to keep it secret, bhaiya," he said, tears brimming in his eyes. "I don't want anyone to hurt our family."
Raj's chest tightened. He placed a hand on Imran's shoulder, his voice firm but warm. "You did the right thing. Loyalty isn't about being perfect—it's about speaking the truth, even when it's hard. I'm proud of you."
The system shimmered faintly:
[Staff Loyalty Reinforced: Imran +10]
[Warning: Rohit – Loyalty Critical]
Raj straightened slowly, his eyes drifting toward Rohit. The youth was still laughing loudly with a group of commuters, but to Raj, the sound now carried an edge—a hollowness that didn't belong. Betrayal was no longer a distant threat; it had a face, a voice, and it was standing at his stall.
As the team packed up, Raj remained outwardly calm, saying nothing of what Imran had revealed. But inside, his mind was already working like a blade sharpening against stone. Shankar thought he could plant poison in his family. He thought loyalty could be bought like potatoes in a market. But Raj knew better. Empires were not built by bending to greed—they were forged by trust, by discipline, by fire.
When they wheeled the cart back through the narrow streets, Raj walked beside Imran, steady and silent. The boy's small hand brushed against his own, as though seeking comfort. Raj didn't pull away. Instead, he thought of the future—the trials to come, the storm Shankar was stirring, and the choice Rohit would soon be forced to make.
In the shadows, Shankar watched from afar, unaware that his secret was no longer secret. His grin was sharp, but his eyes burned with the arrogance of a man who believed victory was certain.
Raj, however, was no stranger to betrayal. He had lived a whole lifetime once before, and this time, he would not be caught unprepared.