Kabir at Dawn
1410 Words
I. The Hour Before Light
Kabir didn’t sleep.
He sat with his back against the wall outside Zoya’s room, legs stretched out on the cold floor, a blanket pooled around him, listening to the soft, uneven rhythm of breath from inside.
Aanya slept like someone who had forgotten how to do it.
Her breaths were too shallow, and her body tensed every few minutes.
Her dreams were not dreams....they were rehearsals of survival.
Whenever she whimpered, Kabir straightened from his half-doze instantly.
He’d spent years teaching children music......he had learned to recognize sound before sense.
Aanya’s sounds were the same as a frightened child’s.
Silent, muffled, reluctant, apologetic.
His heart clenched every time.
He kept his phone in his hand the entire night.
Just in case.
Not that he knew what he would do if the uncle appeared...but instinct told him he would rather break his own bones than let anything happen to her.
The sky grew paler around 5:30 a.m.
Delhi at dawn had a strange hush....
Not peaceful or calm,
But a tired stillness,
a city catching its breath before chaos returned.
Kabir rose quietly, careful not to wake anyone.
He walked to the front door and placed his palm on it.
Cold.
He unlatched only the inner grille and stepped onto the landing, closing it behind him.
The outside air slapped him.........cold, sharp.
And Kabir froze.
A second cigarette butt.
Still warm.
Newer than the one from last night.
Someone had been here again.
Recently.
He crouched, picking it up with a tissue.
The angle mattered, the heat mattered, the ash mattered.
Sharda’s words from last night echoed in his mind:
“Some monsters live long enough to meet the women who survived them.”
Kabir’s jaw clenched.
He wasn’t a violent or reckless man.
But as he looked at that cigarette butt, something in him calcified.
Someone had been standing here, Watching.
Waiting.
And Kabir knew.......with frightening certainty...
that he was capable of hurting someone if it meant protecting Aanya.
He wasn’t proud of the thought.
He just accepted it.
He slipped the cigarette butt into a small paper bag and walked back into the house.
II. The Nightmare
Inside the room, Aanya’s breath hitched.
Then again.
Then a soft, terrified moan escaped her.
Kabir hurried back just as Sharda stirred awake on the bed beside Aanya.
Aanya’s hand clawed at the blanket, her body twisting as if resisting invisible hands.
“No,” she whispered in her sleep.
“No, please....no....”
Kabir stood frozen at the doorway, helpless.
Zoya woke up too, rubbing her eyes until she focused on Aanya’s trembling form.
“Aanya…” she whispered, crawling onto the bed. “Aanya, wake up. Hey....come back.”
Aanya whimpered.
Her fingers dug into her own arm.
She whispered a name.....broken, terrified:
“Chacha… please don’t.....please.....”
Kabir felt the air leave his lungs.
Sharda reacted instantly.
“Aanya,” she said firmly, touching her shoulder. “It’s Sharda. You’re here. You’re safe.”
Aanya jerked violently.
“Stop....stop....no....”
Zoya wrapped her arms around her gently from the other side.
“Aanya.....hey..
hey....
listen to me.
It’s Zoya. Wake up. Wake up.”
Aanya gasped awake with a sharp cry.
Her eyes flew open, wild, unfocused.
She shoved Zoya away instinctively.
Sharda held her wrists in the gentlest grip possible.
“Look at me. Look at me.”
Aanya blinked rapidly until Sharda’s face came into view.
And then...
She collapsed into Sharda’s arms.
Shaking and Sobbing.
Unable to breathe.
Zoya pressed her forehead onto Aanya’s back, crying quietly.
Kabir stood at the doorway, hands trembling... with a ferocity he didn’t trust in himself.
He had never wanted to hurt someone in his life.
But now.....
he understood violence.
He understood what it was meant to protect.
He understood why Sharda had said what she said.
III. Sharda’s Suspicion
When Aanya finally slipped into an exhausted half-sleep in Sharda’s lap, Kabir approached.
“How long has she had nightmares like this?” he whispered.
Sharda didn’t look at him.
“Since she was seven,” she murmured. “Maybe earlier.”
Kabir’s throat tightened.
Zoya wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
Sharda continued, voice low, controlled, infuriatingly calm:
“But they got worse last year. And this month… they’ve become violent.”
Kabir hesitated.
“There’s something I need to show you,” he said quietly.
He held up the small paper bag, the second cigarette butt inside.
Zoya stiffened.
Sharda’s expression changed...subtle, but unmistakable.
Aanya, half-conscious, tensed in Sharda’s lap.
“Where was it?” Sharda asked.
“On the landing,” Kabir replied. “Fresh.”
Sharda’s jaw clenched.
“So he was here,” Zoya whispered.
“Again. While we were sleeping.”
Aanya shook her head faintly. “No. He wouldn’t....he wouldn’t come here.”
“He already did,” Kabir said gently.
Aanya curled further into herself.
Sharda stood, giving Aanya to Zoya.
Then she walked to Kabir.
“Why did you go outside alone?” she demanded, voice sharp.
Kabir blinked, startled. “To check....”
“That was reckless.”
Sharda’s eyes flashed with something cold.
“Don’t ever put yourself between her and danger unless you understand the danger.”
Kabir frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Sharda looked at Aanya on the bed—small, trembling.
Then she whispered:
“Her uncle isn’t just a violent man. He’s a narcissistic predator. They’re patient. They watch. They wait for openings. You don’t confront men like him unprepared.”
Kabir swallowed.
Zoya murmured, “Sharda… he was just trying to help.”
Sharda shook her head.
“He needs to know the difference between help and interference.”
Kabir stepped back slightly, stunned.
He had never seen Sharda this sharp.
This controlled.
This is frightening.
Sharda’s voice softened....barely.
“I’m not angry at you,” she said. “I’m… terrified. And when I’m terrified, I become a surgeon. I become cold. I can’t help it.”
Kabir nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
But he didn’t.
Not fully.
Not until he saw what was coming.
IV. First Sign of a Plan
Aanya finally fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Zoya stood beside her, protective as a shell.
Sharda stepped into the hallway, Kabir following.
“What are we going to do?” Kabir whispered.
Sharda stared at the wall.
“This isn’t random,” she said.
“He didn’t just happen to see her.”
“What do you mean?”
Sharda turned to him.
“He’s testing boundaries.
Testing fear.
Seeing if she’ll react.
Seeing if she’ll break.”
Kabir felt cold.
“What do we do?” he whispered.
Sharda exhaled.
“We plan.”
Kabir frowned.
“For what?”
Sharda’s voice dropped to a whisper that felt like a threat:
“For the moment he stops waiting.”
V. Zoya’s Reckless Choice
Later in the morning, when Sharda was tending to Aanya’s feverish sleep and Kabir was making tea in the kitchen, Zoya slipped silently into the hall.
She took the cigarette butt Kabir had found.
She pocketed it.
She grabbed her bag.
Kabir looked up from the stove.
“Zoya? Where are you going?”
Zoya didn’t answer.
Kabir frowned. “Zoya...”
She turned.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
A dangerous calm.
“I’m going to find him.”
Kabir froze.
“Zoya, don’t.....”
She held up a hand.
“I’m the journalist in this house. Let me be useful.”
Kabir stepped toward her.
“Zoya, this is not a story........”
“It’s not,” she said softly.
“It’s revenge.”
Kabir grabbed her wrist.
She whispered:
“He destroyed a child.
He won’t destroy the woman she’s becoming.”
Kabir’s grip loosened.
Zoya slipped out the door before he could stop her.
Sharda appeared in the hallway, eyes widening.
“Where is Zoya?”
Kabir swallowed hard.
“She’s going after him.”
Sharda closed her eyes.
“God help him then,” she whispered.
Kabir stared at her.
“What do we do?”
Sharda opened her eyes.
And for the first time in the book.....
For the first time in years.....
fear cracked through her voice.
“We don’t let Aanya find out.
Not until we know what Zoya finds.”
Kabir nodded slowly.
Sharda whispered:
“And pray she doesn’t find more than she can handle.”
- Writer
