Welcome to the new chapter... If you like the story, I won't ask you to say anything... I'm not in the mood to talk today....
The air outside no longer held silence, but the weight of death's approach.
Jodha was still trembling inside the booth.She didn't dare to peek through the window again.
Her heart was beating so loudly she felt like the people outside would hear the sound of her heartbeat.
Time seemed to have stopped.
A few seconds later,the thud of footsteps was heard from outside fast, then slow, then completely gone.
She carefully moved towards the door and peeked through a hair-thin crack only shadows remained on the road. Those masked men had gone somewhere.
Jodha breathed a sigh of relief and gently opened the booth door.
But as soon as she stepped out,someone grabbed her hand from behind. Frozen with fear, she tried to scream, but her voice got stuck in her throat.
It was the same man the one who had entered a little while ago, completely drenched in blood.
Now he was collapsing onto the booth floor, as if the last breaths of life were leaving his body.
"S...Save me..." His voice was broken, his eyes held helplessness.
Jodha bent down,but with hesitation. "You... who are you?"
He couldn't speak, just his hand tightened around Jodha's wrist.
His grip was painful,but behind that pain was a plea a cry for help.
Jodha quickly tore a piece from her scarf and began tying it around his arm to stop the blood.
Her hands trembled in the cold air,but she didn't give up.
"Look... don't talk. Don't say anything..." she said in a trembling voice.
The man tried to laugh,blood flowing from his lips and dripping down.
"You...aren't scared..." he managed to say with difficulty.
"I am scared," she whispered, "but running away now won't solve anything."
The man wanted to say something, but only his breath escaped his lips.
His head fell into Jodha's lap.
At that moment, the cold road air and the flickering streetlights all seemed to halt.
Only questions remained in Jodha's eyes:
Who is he? Why is he asking me for help? And whose blood is this, anyway?
The old drunkard who had been scaring her earlier was now nowhere to be seen.
Only a broken picture of silence remained.
Jodha looked all around the road was empty.
The man was now completely silent,only his breath was faintly moving.
She picked up her phone(which she had dropped earlier) and turned on the flashlight.
In the light,his face became clearly visible for a few moments.
That face as if pain and mystery had converged together.
Hazy eyes,deep wounds, and a proud silence.
Jodha said softly, "I won't let you die."
She carefully closed the booth door, glanced at the road outside everything was quiet.
Now it was just her,and that blood-soaked stranger... whose very name was unknown to her.
The wind was blowing outside, and from somewhere far away, the faint echo of a police siren could be heard.
Jodha had a feeling by morning, everything would change.
....The night grew deeper. In the small darkness of the booth, the heartbeats of fear and unease had dissolved into the air. Jodha had never felt so alone and responsible. The blood-soaked stranger still lay unconscious. His face was smeared with blood and dirt; the light was so dim that Jodha couldn't see his face clearly.
She tore another piece from her scarf,wet it with water from her bottle, and began carefully, gently cleaning his face and wounds.
Every time her palm touched the stranger's skin,Jodha's heart filled with a strange mix of apprehension and pity.
She looked at every injury,every scratch, as if each wound held a hidden question in her eyes.
Slowly,as the thick layer of blood began to clear, a small tattoo on his neck became visible a shadowy black design, like a half-moon and a serpent's head.
Seeing that tattoo,Jodha paused.
She began to wonder,just who is this man? What story is hidden behind these wounds and this tattoo?
The night was completely silent.Apart from the wandering wind outside, there was no sound.
Brushing her disheveled hair back with every slight noise, Jodha repeatedly touched the unknown man's forehead to check his fever.
Sometimes she would gently rest his head in her lap,sometimes let a few drops of leftover water fall onto his lips.
Every time she looked up,wanting to see his face, only half of it was visible, and that too was submerged in shadow. His full face remained hidden in the darkness and the burdensome light.
Time passed.
The occasional light of passing cars through the window, the distant echo of police sirens, and the sliding sound of raindrops falling outside in between.
By morning,as a faint red spread across the sky, the stranger lying in the booth turned over once. Jodha looks at him.
He is still in a deep sleep, but his breaths are more stable now. The wounds are still deep, but the bleeding has almost stopped.
Jodha's eyes ran over the tattoo once more.
It was as if she wanted to read everything about him from it, but in place of every answer, only a new question sprouted.
Right near that tattoo,a slight tremor accompanied his heartbeat.
And perhaps for the first time, Jodha felt not just fear for the stranger, but also a deeply hidden empathy.
The name was still unknown,the story was still incomplete but that night had changed for both of them.
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