There are storms that roar.
And storms that whisper.
Aarav had braved both.
But he wasn’t prepared for the one inside his own body.
It started as a dull pain in his chest. He brushed it off—exhaustion, stress, dehydration.
He was always on the move now:
From school to protest site.
From interview to workers’ meetings.
From night trains to dusty roads with no sleep in between.
“You don’t take care of yourself,” Ravi warned.
“I’ll rest when the country’s fair,” Aarav joked.
But truth had its way of demanding silence.
That silence came one night during a railway station rally.
Aarav was reading a speech—nothing radical. Just truth.
Then he felt his knees buckle.
The world tilted.
His throat locked.
His eyes saw nothing.
And then—
darkness.
He woke up in a hospital, tubes i
