Episode 21 – Shadows After The Storm
1003 Words
(Ruhani's POV)
The hospital corridors had always made her uneasy, but today, they felt suffocating—like the walls themselves were closing in on her. Ruhani stood near the waiting area, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, lips trembling. Tears poured freely down her face, but she didn’t care who saw her. Her heart was heavy with pain, anger, and helplessness.
"Why didn’t you save him, bhai?!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she turned to Veer who stood like a statue beside her.
“He was your brother too…. You loved him like your own—then how? How could you not see this coming?” Her fists clenched the fabric of her kurta as sobs wracked her small frame.
Veer remained silent, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, his jaw tight, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone too hard.
“He always stood by you, bhai! Always! When you were drowning in your own mess, it was Sanchit who held you together. And today… today he needed someone and you—” her voice caught in her throat, “you weren’t there…”
She collapsed into the cold metal chair, burying her face in her palms. “He loved her… he was going to build his life with her… and look where it ended. Was his only mistake loving the wrong person?”
The words cut through the air like glass. Harsh. Bitter. But soaked in the grief of someone who had just lost the brightest light in her world.
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(Veer's POV)
He stood there like stone. Every breath felt like fire burning through his chest.
His sister’s words echoed in his ears, and for the first time in years, he had no answer.
Veer had seen death. Blood. Violence. Betrayal. But nothing—nothing—felt as crushing as the sight of Sanchit’s bloodied phone on the hospital floor. He couldn’t shake that image. Couldn’t erase the moment the call dropped and he heard that horrifying thud—the screech of metal, the crunch of glass.
And the silence that followed.
He had been helpless. Powerless. And that was a word Veer never allowed in his vocabulary.
Now he was livid.
“I’ll find her,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “Whoever she is. Whatever her name is.”
His hands shook as he unlocked his secure phone and dialed the private detective he trusted with his life. “I want everything. Now. She’s responsible. I don’t care how pretty her face is—if she destroyed my brother, she’s done.”
Within hours, photos began arriving in his inbox. Blurry shots. Faces captured at wrong angles. A few of them were clear—one in particular of Sanchit rehearsing something in the backyard of a house Veer had never seen.
And a girl. Partially hidden, smiling.
Veer narrowed his eyes. His pulse raced as he zoomed in again and again.
He didn’t know if it was her. Sanchit never gave away names. He was private about her—more than he’d ever been about anything. But now, Veer had a face. And that was enough.
He printed the photos and pinned them to his study wall like targets.
“She made him fall…” he whispered coldly. “And now… I’ll make sure she never stands again.”
The fire in his eyes was darker than rage. It was vengeance.
But behind all of it… was heartbreak. The grief of losing a brother without knowing if he’d survive. Of being left behind with unanswered questions and too much silence.
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(Disha's POV)
Something was wrong.
She could feel it in her bones. The unease had crept in slowly, like a cold wind slipping through a window left ajar. But now it roared like a storm inside her chest.
It had been four weeks. Two whole days. And Sanchit hadn’t called. Not once. Not even a message. Nothing on social media. His phone was unreachable.
She had tried everything—called multiple times, left voice notes, even tried reaching out through Neha, but she was just as clueless. It wasn’t like him.
And that scared her more than anything else.
Disha sat on her bed, the glow from her phone screen lighting up her anxious face. Every five minutes, she checked again. Again. And again. But the last message she’d sent was still unopened. Her fingers hovered over the keypad, wondering if she should call again. One more time.
She didn’t.
Instead, she leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Her heart felt like a rock in her chest.
He deserves to know the truth, she thought bitterly. But how can I…?
Sanchit had been her light in the darkest moments. She remembered their first meeting at the academy—how he’d smiled like she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Their silent walks, their late-night conversations, the way he would remember every small detail about her—her favorite color, her love for rain, the way she hummed songs under her breath when nervous.
He had given her a ring made of threads during their first picnic, laughing like a child. “One day, I’ll replace this with a real one,” he’d said. She had laughed too, but deep down, a part of her believed it.
Until she saw that message.
Until those threats began.
She had no proof. No name. No face. Just shadows and threats, sent through anonymous messages: “You get close to him, and she dies.”
She knew “she” meant Neha.
Her Neha.
Her sister. Her soul.
So she stepped away. Broke his heart. And buried hers along with it.
But now, his silence was haunting. Every second without him felt like a countdown she didn’t understand.
And amidst it all, her body began revolting—constant nausea, unease, dizziness. But she ignored it.
Because right now, the only thing she wanted…
Was to hear Sanchit’s voice one more time.
Just once.
- Writer
