In Gauri's House 🏠

Please, please let the gate be open.

It is. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and slip through, shoes already in my hand so my footsteps won't give me away. Just a few more steps to my room, and I'm safe for tonight.

"Stop right there."

My heart jumps into my throat. "Maa! You scared me half to death!"

Maa is standing by the door, arms crossed, in that way mothers do when they've clearly been waiting up. "Late again, Gauri. Hey Bhagwan, give this girl some sense of time, please." She shakes her head. "Why late this time?"

"Maa, there were so many customers today, you have no idea. It gets like this during the week, you know that."

"I know, I know," she says, softer now, some of the sharpness melting away.

"But you know your father, na? If he finds out you weren't home on time, you know what will happen."

"I know." I try to keep my voice light, even though something tightens in my chest. "Besides shouting, and maybe worse, what else is new? Don't worry, Maa, I promise, I won't be late again."

"Theek hai." She finally softens into a small smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the way she's done a thousand times before. "Now go sleep, before he wakes up and sees you standing here."

"Okay, Maa. Goodnight."

"Hmm. Goodnight, beta."

I slip into my room and close the door gently, leaning against it, letting the day finally fall off my shoulders.

Thank you, Bhagwan, for saving me from him. Again.

It's been eight years now. Eight years since I came to live here in Gujarat, with the woman, I now call Maa, though she is my nanny, and her husband. 

Eight years since I last saw my real mother's face, felt her arms around me. I was only twelve then. Just a child, sent away, not fully understanding what was happening then.

I miss you, Maa sa. Every single day. I miss our old house, the smell of your cooking filling every corner of it, the sound of your voice calling my name for dinner. Some nights I close my eyes and I can almost hear it.

But I know , I know, somewhere far away, you are proud of me. Because I am living exactly the life you always wanted for me. 

Simple. 

Safe. 

Away from him.

Goodnight, Maa sa. I love you. Always.

 Sunday | In The Morning

"GAURIIII! Wake up! It's 8 o'clock! Don't you have work today?!"

My eyes fly open. For one terrible second, I don't understand. Then it hits me like a bucket of cold water.

"WHAT?! 8 o'clock?!" I practically fall out of bed, tangled in my own blanket. "Mom! Save me! Prakash uncle is going to kill me today, I swear it!"

In the Restaurant 🍽

"Miss Gauri." he stands with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, tapping his foot like a slow, ominous clock. "Late. Again. Today, I am cutting it straight from your salary, then maybe, finally, you will learn."

"Sir, please, please," I beg, hands pressed together like I'm praying to a god who happens to also sign my paycheck. "Just one more chance, sir, please. I am like your own daughter, na? You wouldn't do this to your own daughter!"

He sighs, long and dramatic, the way he always does right before he gives in. "Haan haan, theek hai, enough with your drama, Gauri. Go, get to work before I change my mind."

"Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!" I practically float toward the counter, relief flooding through me.

Thank god. Okay, Gauri, focus now. No mistakes today. It's Sunday, which means customers will be flooding in all day long. No complaints today. Not one.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Arjun.

"Hello, sir..." His voice comes out quick, breathless, like he's been holding it in the whole drive. "Sir, have you reached Gujarat?"

"I have" I say, my eyes locked on the address glowing on my screen, the building ahead of me dark and waiting.

"Sir, I'm bringing the team anyway, for backup, just in case." A pause, and then, softer, "If anything happens, one call, sir. I'll be there before you can even finish dialing. Please... just stay safe."

I don't answer that part. I don't know how to promise something I can't control.

"Fine," I say instead. 

"OK Sir"

I end the call before he can say anything more, 

I take a breath, shove my phone into my pocket, Whatever's waiting inside that building ,Khan better hope it's enough to save him.

The warehouse stands abandoned at the end of an empty road, swallowed by darkness. Every window is broken. Every light is dead... except for a single bulb hanging above the rusted gate, flickering like it's counting down someone's last breath.

I step out of the car, my polished shoes crunching over broken glass.

Too quiet.

No guards outside. No movement. No dogs. No voices.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

A trap.

Of course it is. 

I walk inside anyway. Fear has never dictated my decisions. It never will. The warehouse smells of rust, oil, and old blood. My footsteps echo through the silence.

"Junaid Khan?" My voice cuts through the building like a blade.

One of the men standing near a stack of crates answers his phone. "Boss... he's here."A familiar laugh echoes through the speaker. "Make him bleed."

The call ends.

I let out a quiet chuckle. "He couldn't even come himself."

Coward.

Boots scrape across concrete. One by one, they emerge from the shadows. Behind crates. From the upper platform. Between rusted containers. More from the rear entrance.

Fourteen. Maybe sixteen. I stop counting.

Enough to keep me entertained. One of them aims his pistol at my chest. "There's no way out." I look at the gun. Then at him.

"You should've brought more men."

The first idiot charges. I step aside. My elbow crushes his throat before he completes his punch. His body collapses without a sound.

The second swings a knife. I catch his wrist. Twist. The bone snaps with a sickening crack. Before he can scream, I slam his face into a steel pillar. Blood paints the metal.

Another comes from behind. I don't turn. I hear his footsteps, calculate the distance, catch the iron pipe before it lands. One strike. His jaw shatters.

Then everything explodes.

Fists. Knives. Chains. Iron rods. Gunshots echo through the warehouse, bullets tearing through crates instead of flesh as I keep moving. No wasted motion. Every punch breaks something. Every kick drops a man. Every mistake they make becomes their funeral.

Blood covers my hands. Some of it theirs. Some of it mine.

One blade slices across my shoulder. I ignore it. Another rod smashes against my ribs. Pain registers. Then disappears.

A man lunges. I drive my knee into his stomach. His body folds. Another grabs me from behind. I slam him backward into concrete hard enough to crack it.

Bodies litter the warehouse floor. 

Groaning. 

Bleeding. 

Broken. 

But they keep coming. Like insects. Relentless. Pathetic.

Minutes pass. The air grows heavier. Breathing becomes harder. Blood drips from my forehead, blurring my vision for the first time.

Three men remain standing. I have underestimated only one thing. Their numbers. Not their strength.

My phone vibrates inside my pocket. Arjun.

I reach for it.

The smallest mistake... is often the deadliest.

A steel rod crashes into my spine. My vision explodes white. Before I recover, a punch buries itself deep into my ribs. Another strikes my chest. A boot slams into my knee.

For the first time that night, I hit the ground.

The remaining men surround me, breathing heavily. Not because they've defeated me. Because surviving me has nearly killed them.

One of them whispers, "Is... is he dead?"

Another stares at my unmoving body. "I don't know."

"Boss said make sure."

"You check."

"You check."

Silence. None of them dare come closer. Even lying on the floor, they're afraid. Finally, one of them spits beside me. 

"No one survives that. Let's move."

Footsteps fade. Engines roar. Then, silence.

For several long moments, I don't move. Every breath burns. My ribs feel shattered. Blood pools beneath me.

I open my eyes. The ceiling above is spinning.

"So..." A weak laugh escapes my lips. "This is your best, Khan?"

Disappointing.

Using the wall for support, I force myself upright. Every step feels like dragging a mountain. But falling has never been part of my reputation.

I reach into my pocket. My phone. Destroyed. The screen hangs in pieces. 

No signal. 

Good. I've survived worse.

I stagger toward the exit, leaving a trail of blood across the concrete. Each step slower than the last. Each breath heavier.

The empty road stretches endlessly before me. The night blurs. The streetlights melt into streaks of gold. My legs finally refuse another step. I collapse onto the cold asphalt.

The darkness rushes toward me. This time, I can't stop it.

In the Restaurant 🍽

"Sir ji, I've finished all my work. It's already 12:30 am. NOW can I go home?"

"Yes, yes, go," he says, waving a tired hand. "Just make sure you're on time tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir. I'll make sure of it."

There are no buses running this late. I have no choice but to walk. Why does it always have to be me, Bhagwan?

The street is dark, quiet in a way that makes my skin crawl, branching off from the main road into shadows I can barely see through.

That's when I see him.

A man, lying on the ground. Blood soaking through his shirt, dark against the pavement.

My heart pounds. Every instinct tells me to run. But something , I don't know what, pulls my feet toward him instead.

"Sir..." My voice shakes. "Are you alright? Do... do you need help?" 

He's barely conscious, eyes fluttering, unfocused. I have to help him. NO no Gauri tu isme mat padh.. What if he die's.. oh no I need to get him to a hospital, Hey bhagwan ky karu me?.

Somewhere between consciousness and darkness, I feel someone kneel beside me. A woman. Her voice is soft, worried.

Then, her scent reaches me. Something sweet. Familiar, though I can't place why. I don't know her. But something in me trusts her anyway.

I force the words out, each one costing me more than it should. " Dial 98635... Tell him I want him here"

"Okay, sir, but let me first take you to the hospital."

"No.." My voice comes out rough, desperate. "I don't want to go there. Just call this number."

"Yes, sir, yes!"

Kya karun... call karun ya pehle hospital le jaun? My eyes fall on his unconscious body, his breathing growing weaker with every passing second. No. Hospital first. I can call later... right now, saving his life is what matters most.

"TAXI!"

Nobody stops. Car after car speeds past like I'm invisible, like the man bleeding beside me doesn't exist.

Why is nobody stopping? Please, somebody help us.

A taxi finally slows. The driver leans out, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. "What the.. why is this girl with that man?" Oh no. What do I do now?

"Taxi, please"

The driver doesn't move to help. Instead, he frowns, suspicious. "What are you doing with this man? Leave him and go home, ladki."

"Huh?" My voice cracks, disbelief and desperation colliding. 

"He's bleeding! Can't you see that? Nobody wants to help me get him to a hospital, why? Why is nobody stepping forward?"

"Why?" The driver's face hardens. "Don't you know him? who this is..?"

"No, I don't know" I snap, my patience gone completely. "But I know he's bleeding, and he needs help. If you're willing to help us, then help. Otherwise, just go."