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

Please, Bhagwan... ek baar isse insaaniyat dikha do.

I say the words silently, over and over, like a prayer I refuse to say out loud. The driver looks at him, lying there bleeding on the road, then at me, standing my ground, refusing to move. For a second, just one terrible second,

I think he's going to shake his head and drive away, leave both of us standing here in the dark like we don't exist.

Finally, he sighs, long and heavy, like he's arguing with himself and losing.

"Okay, okay. I'll help you. Wait, let me carry him."

"No," I say firmly, before he can even move. "I'll help."

I don't wait for permission. I slip one arm around him, taking his weight onto my shoulder without hesitation. He's heavier than I expect, but I plant my feet and hold steady, guiding him toward the taxi one determined step at a time.

My arms burn with the effort, but I don't let go. I can't. Not now, not after everything it took just to get this taxi to stop.

In the Taxi

Shivaay's perspective

Where is this girl taking me?

My head rests against her shoulder, too heavy to lift on my own. Every breath sends a fresh wave of pain through my ribs, sharp enough to blur my vision at the edges.

I remember telling her to make a call. Just a call. Not to drag me into some taxi, into the dark, into god knows where.

Her fragrance reaches me again, faint but unmistakable, drifting through the small space of the taxi. Something about it feels strangely, impossibly familiar. Like I've smelled it before, in a memory I can't quite reach.

Her

The thought arrives before I can stop it.

My eyes barely open, just a sliver, just enough to catch the blur of her face above me.

No.

I shut them again, harder this time, like I can force the thought back into whatever dark corner it crawled out from. It can't be her.

I keep glancing at him the entire ride, unable to help myself, the driver's words still echoing in my head. "Don't you know who this is?"

Who are you? Why does everyone I've come across tonight seem so afraid of you, like just saying your name might be dangerous?

My eyes move slowly over his blood soaked clothes, the dark stains spreading further with every passing minute. What if he's connected to my father?

My stomach tightens at the thought.

What if he's one of his..?

I push the thought away, hard, refusing to let it take root. Right now, none of that matters. Right now, he's hurt, and I'm the only one here to do something about it. I'll figure out the rest later, if there's even anything to figure out at all.

"Bas... thoda aur," I murmur, adjusting him carefully against the seat so his head doesn't fall forward with every bump in the road. "Hospital pahunch jayenge."

I don't know who he is. I don't know why he was attacked, left bleeding on some forgotten street like he didn't matter to anyone. And I definitely don't know what kind of trouble I might be dragging myself into just by sitting here beside him.

But leaving an injured man to die alone in the dark, that was never going to be an option. Not for me.

After one and a half hours, we finally reach the hospital, its bright lights spilling out from the entrance.

"Thank you, sir," I say, already moving, half-carrying him toward the entrance without waiting.

The driver hurries to help me, his arms steadier than mine at this point, but I don't let go of my side of the weight. "It's okay," he says, and then his face turns serious, almost stern.

"Listen to me carefully. Once he's admitted, you go home. Before he wakes up. Samjhi?"

I frown, something about his tone putting me on edge. "Sir, wait." I catch his sleeve before he can walk away completely. "At least tell me who he is. His name?"

He looks at me for a long, heavy moment, like he's deciding how much he's allowed to say. "You don't need to know."

"Why?"

His expression shifts, something flickering across it that looks almost like pity. "Just trust me. Go home after he's admitted."

I don't like his answer. Not even a little. But something in his eyes tells me not to push further right now, so I just nod. "Okay."

The moment the hospital doors slide open, I raise my voice, loud and clear. "Doctor! Please, help! He's badly injured!"

A doctor rushes toward us immediately, his eyes scanning over the blood. "What happened?"

"Someone attacked him. He's lost so much blood.."

The doctor doesn't wait for me to finish. He turns to the nurses immediately. "Take him inside, now." They move him carefully onto a stretcher, wheeling him away before I can say another word.

"Ma'am, please wait outside."

I nod, stepping back, my arms suddenly feeling empty without his weight against them.

The doors close in front of me, and for a moment I just stand there, watching them, my chest still rising and falling fast from the effort of the last two hours. He's alive. That's enough. For now, that has to be enough.

Then I remember the phone number he told me.

I pull it out my phone and dial without hesitation, my jaw set.

"Hello?" a man's voice answers, sharp and immediately alert.

"Hello... sir? The owner of this phone is in the hospital. He's in critical condition. He asked me to call this number."

Silence for a second, heavy and stretched thin. Then, "What?! Which hospital?"

"Sterling Hospital, Gurukul, Ahmedabad."

"I'm coming right now."

"Okay." I end the call before he can ask anything else.

I stand there a moment longer, staring at the phone in my hand. I should leave now. I've done what I came here to do. I glance once more toward the operating theatre, toward the doors that swallowed him whole. Whoever you are... I hope you survive.

Then I turn and walk toward the exit, my footsteps steady against the empty hallway.

By the time I reach home, it's already 3:30 in the morning.

Great. I completely lost track of time.

I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me, not out of fear, just out of habit, no point starting a fight before I even have to.

Maybe everyone's asleep.

Maybe I can make it to my room without..

"GAURIIII!"

I stop walking, but I don't flinch.

Of course.

Ramesh uncle's voice echoes through the house, Rekha's Maa husband, standing there like he's been waiting all night just for this.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?"

I turn to face him, my voice even. "I'm sorry, I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time?" He steps closer, anger written all over his face, his shadow falling over me in the dim light. "You know the rules! You were supposed to be home hours ago. Where were you?"

"I was helping someone. It was urgent."

"Helping someone?" His laugh is bitter, cutting. "Of course. You always have time for everyone else, haan? Are you that free?"

I look straight into his eyes and see it again, that same hatred he always carries for me, sitting there just beneath the surface.

He hates me only because I'm not his daughter, even though I've treated him with respect since the very first day I came here.

Why can't he love me?

I do everything he asks me to do. Still, his attitude never changes, never softens, not even a little. There's no point arguing with him tonight, so I turn to walk to my room instead.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" he shouts.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I.."

"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME DAD," he snaps, disgust twisting his face. "Main tumhara papa nahi hoon. Pata nahi kiski aulaad ho tum."

I look straight into his eyes without backing down, something hardening in my chest. If you weren't my nanny's husband, I don't know what I would do to you.

"Give me your salary. Today's salary. NOW."

"Sorry, sir," I say, reaching into my bag and holding it out to him without hesitation. "Here."

He snatches it from my hand, counting it quickly, his fingers moving fast. His face twists in disgust. "Only sixteen thousand?!"

"Yes."

"Useless girl," he mutters, shaking his head like I've personally disappointed him just by existing.

I hold his gaze for one more second before he looks away first.

"Go to your room."

"Yes, sir."

I turn and walk away, calm, unbothered, refusing to give him the reaction he's looking for.