SOFIA POV :-

The noise of the crowd faded into a dull buzz as I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Sofia! Kahan hai tu? I’ve been waiting!" Akshu’s energetic voice exploded through the speaker.

"Kaam hua tera? How was your first day covering Rajwada Kothi? Did you get the pictures? Aur nayi journal ki story kaisi lag rahi hai?"

A light chuckle escaped my lips as I leaned against the stone archway, watching the colorful madness of the Durga Puja.

"Calm down, Akshu! Shanti rakh. Everything went amazingly well. The palace looks surreal today, full of life, gulal, and energy. And guess what? I found the most adorable little guide here. His name is Chotu."

"Chotu? Who’s that?" Akshu asked, her curiosity piqued.

"A brilliant kid," I said, a soft smile playing on my face.

"Smart, protective, and full of dreams. He took me around the entire ruined palace, told me all the legends, and even fought off some rowdy tourists for me. He’s so hardworking, Akshu... I gave him some money for his studies. You’ll love him when you meet him."

"Aww, look at you getting all sentimental!" Akshu teased softly over the phone. "Alright, jaldi kar. I'm waiting at home for you. Wrap it up fast so we can go eat!"

"Haan haan, bas 5-10 minutes mein nikalti hu," I replied with a smile.

"Bye, see you soon!"

"Bye!"

The call ended. I pulled the phone away from my ear and unzipped my bag, slipping the phone inside. But just as my fingers loosened their grip to drop it completely in—

SCREECH!

A sickening, brutal thud echoed through the air, piercing right through my chest.

Shock rattled my frame. My fingers instinctively went numb, and the phone dropped completely inside the dark depths of my bag. My world went dead silent.

My blood ran cold. I froze, an ominous, heavy weight settling deep in my gut. Slowly, almost in sheer dread, I turned around.

The busy road was a chaotic blur of traffic, but my eyes locked onto a small, limp body lying motionless on the harsh asphalt. A thick pool of crimson red was spreading fast from his forehead onto the grey road.

"Chotu...?”

The world spun around me as my lungs locked up, refusing to draw air.

No. No, no, no. God, please, no.

Seven years of buried terror came crashing back like a violent tidal wave. The suffocating smell of hospital corridors, the harsh accusations, the crushing guilt of leaving a broken boy behind in Mumbai—it all rushed back at once. suffocating me.

Not again. Please God, not another life because of me.

"CHOTU!”

A raw, desperate scream tore from my throat as I ran blindly toward the road, completely oblivious to the roaring traffic. I stumbled onto the hard tarmac and fell to my knees beside his unconscious body. My hands were trembling violently as I carefully lifted his bleeding head onto my lap.

"Chotu! Open your eyes! Look at me, Chotu!" I sobbed hysterically, my tears mixing with the fresh blood on his forehead. "Please, stay awake! Chotu!"

A thick crowd quickly gathered around us, whispering and staring, but nobody moved to help.

"Koi ambulance bulao! Please! Help him!" I screamed at the onlookers, my voice cracking with helpless agony. "Ambulance bulao koi, please!”

("Someone Call an ambulance! Please!)

A young guy—the rider who hit him—desperately scrambled off his fallen motorcycle. His face was pale with genuine panic and horror, not malice. He was trembling just as hard as I was.

"Didi! Didi, calm down! Maine abhi ambulance ko call kar diya hai, aati hi hogi!" he shouted desperately over the noise, his voice laced with pure guilt. "I didn't see him run out! I swear I tried to brake!”

Within minutes that felt like an agonizing eternity, the sharp wail of an ambulance siren pierced the chaos. Paramedics rushed out with a stretcher. The young rider immediately stepped in, helping them lift Chotu’s frail, limp body into the vehicle.

As the ambulance doors slammed shut and the vehicle sped away with red lights flashing, I stood rooted on the side of the road. My hands were covered in Chotu's blood. The sight of the receding ambulance triggered a paralyzing flashback—the image of my friend's lifeless body in Mumbai seven years ago, leaving me trapped inside my own trauma. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

"Didi! Didi, listen to me!"

The rider’s hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me back to reality. My blurry vision slowly focused on his terrified face.

"Didi, please, aap hosh me aao!" he pleaded, his voice shaking. "Aapko hospital jana hai na? Baitho mere bike par, mai aapko wahan chor deta hu. Mujhe abhi kisi bohot zaroori kaam se nikalna hoga, mai ruk nahi sakta... lekin mai hospital ki jo bhi fees hogi, sab pay kar dunga! Aap bas mujhe bata dena!" And he writes his number on a piece of paper and hands it to me..

(“Didi, please, Come to your senses!”)

("You need to go to the hospital, right? Sit on my bike, I will drop you there. I have to leave for some very important work right now, I cannot stay... but I will pay all the hospital fees whatever they are! Just let me know!”)

I couldn't speak. My mind was completely numb, operating entirely on pure shock. I just nodded blankly and got on the back of his bike.

The ride was a blur of wind, sirens, and flashing city lights. As soon as the bike screeched to a halt outside the main entrance of the hospital, I jumped off before he could even put the kickstand down.

"Hospital reception inside! Jao Didi!" he yelled after me.("Go sister!”)

I sprinted through the automatic glass doors, my heart hammering like a trapped bird in my chest.

"Emergency! Ek baccha... Chotu! 12 saal ka baccha, accident hua hai uska!" I gasped out frantically to the receptionist, gripping the edge of the counter with bloody hands. "Kahan hai woh? Where did they take him?!"

("A child... Chotu! A 12-year-old child, he has had an accident!”)

("Where is he?)

The receptionist looked at my state in alarm and quickly checked her screen. "OT—Operation Theatre 2, second floor!"

Without waiting for another word, I turned and ran blindly toward the stairs, praying with every breath I had left that history wouldn't repeat itself today.

I sprinted up the stairs, my heart pounding violently against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every step felt impossibly heavy. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic in the air was suffocating, instantly dragging me back to the dark hospital corridors of Mumbai seven years ago.

Please God, don't let this happen again. Save him... please save Chotu.

As I reached the second floor, I saw a doctor in a white coat hurriedly walking down the hallway toward the Operation Theatre. Panic seized me. I scrambled forward, my trembling hands instinctively reaching out to grab his hand before he could enter.

"Doc_doctor please save him, I –I beg Y_you, Ple- please." I pleaded, my voice cracking in desperate, trembling sobs.

The doctor stopped and turned to me, looking anxious for a moment as if hesitating on what to say. After a minute, he reached out, grabbed me by my shoulders to steady my shivering frame, and said softly,

"Don’t worry we will save him, please rest assured."

He gently guided me to the nearby bench and sat me down. As he turned back toward the OT doors, I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered with every remaining drop of hope,

"Thank you doctor."

He entered the OT, leaving me alone in the cold corridor.

For two excruciating hours, I sat on that metal bench. Inside my bag, my phone vibrated and rang continuously, but I couldn't bring myself to check it. I didn't care who was calling.

My eyes were glued to the OT light, my mind completely consumed by flashbacks of Mumbai—the tears, the harsh accusations, the guilt. Every ring of my phone faded into background noise against the deafening beat of my own heart.

Finally, the OT doors swung open and the doctor walked out, looking toward me.

I stood up instantly, my legs shaking as I rushed over to him.

"How is the boy? Is he alright?"

A soft, reassuring look passed over his face. "He is out of danger. The surgery is successful, you can meet him after a few minutes."

The moment those words hit me, the suffocating knot in my chest loosened. An overwhelming wave of relief washed over my body, and I could feel tears of pure gratitude spilling down my cheeks.

I looked up at him, my mind catching the gaze of his sharp brown eyes. There was a gentle intensity in his look—something about the way he stared back at me felt strangely mesmerizing and familiar, though I couldn't process why.

Before either of us could say anything further, a nurse hurried up to him to inform him that his phone had been ringing continuously in his cabin for 15 minutes.

He gave me one last lingering look before turning around and walking back down the hallway toward his cabin.

I took a deep,shaky breath and leaned against the wall, wiping my tear-stained face. Chotu was safe. History hadn't repeated itself.

Hello Readers once again 😊

I'm back with another chapter enjoy it tell me how'd you like it? 🧐

Once again sorry for the delay I can't write the chapters because of something going in my family plus exams so I hope you will forgive these delays 🥹🥺

Now enjoy to your heart's content the chapter is out

Till then byie....😄

Cielmort...🖤

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