Devil in the Rain

DEVIL IN THE RAIN ──────────────────── 📖 EPISODE 1 The Night He Was Born He was born on the night they tried to kill his father. The rain had no mercy that night. It fell in violent sheets, hammering against the windows of St. Mary’s Hospital like it was trying to break in. Thunder rolled across the sky in long, angry waves—the kind of night that made people lock their doors and pray nothing followed them home. But inside Room 14, Malathi had no time to fear the storm. “Breathe… breathe…” the nurse said, her voice steady. Malathi couldn’t. Pain tore through her body in relentless waves, each one stronger than the last. She gripped the iron railing of the hospital bed until her knuckles turned white. “Rajendra—” she gasped. No answer. He was supposed to be here. Outside, in the dim corridor, Rajendra Varma stood with his phone pressed to his ear, his expression carved from stone. “Talk to me,” he said quietly. Static. Then a voice broke through— “They’re here. East side. At least twelve.” Rajendra closed his eyes for one second. Twelve men in a hospital—tonight. They had chosen this moment carefully, when his wife was in labor… when his guard would be down… when he had something to lose. They had chosen wrong. Shankar Rao stood behind him. “How many?” he asked. “Enough.” From inside the room, a scream cut through the air. “She’s close,” Shankar said, glancing at the door. Rajendra didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on that door for a moment too long. Then he looked back at the corridor. At the danger moving toward them. At the old man. Shankar rolled his shoulders once, slow and deliberate. “Go,” he said. “Draw them away.” Rajendra hesitated—just for a fraction of a second. That was enough. He gripped Shankar’s shoulder, hard, then turned and walked away without looking back. The first gunshot echoed through the hospital. Inside Room 14, Malathi heard it. Then another. And another. The nurses froze. One of them whispered, “What is happening…?” Malathi didn’t ask. She knew. She grabbed the railing and pushed. A scream. A final, tearing pain— And then— A cry. Loud. Fierce. Alive. The baby was placed on her chest. A boy. For a few seconds, the world disappeared. No gunshots. No fear. No storm. Just him. His tiny fingers curled around hers, fragile and trusting. Hello… she thought. The door burst open. Not Rajendra. Ravi. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, his face pale with something that made Malathi’s chest go cold. “Where is Shankar?” she asked. Ravi didn’t answer. Her heart dropped. “He stopped them,” Ravi said softly. “All of them.” Silence filled the room. “He told me to tell you… he loves you.” Malathi closed her eyes—just for a moment—then opened them again. “Rajendra?” “He went to draw them away,” Ravi said. “We haven’t heard from him.” Ten minutes. “They’re clearing the building,” Ravi continued, urgency creeping into his voice. “You have to move.” Malathi looked down at her son. Then back at Ravi. “Help me up.” Her body screamed in protest. She had given birth less than an hour ago, and every movement sent pain crashing through her. But she stood. Because he was alive. Because she was his mother. Ravi led her through a narrow back corridor, dimly lit and echoing with distant gunshots. Boots thundered somewhere below, growing louder with every passing second. At the emergency exit, Ravi stopped. They both understood. “Go,” she said. He didn’t argue. He ran. Malathi pushed open the door, and the storm swallowed her whole. Rain slammed into her skin, cold and relentless. Her bare feet hit wet ground, but she didn’t stop. One step. Then another. She wrapped herself around her son, shielding him from the rain. He didn’t cry. Not once. Twenty minutes later, headlights appeared in the distance. Slow. Searching. Hunting. Malathi pressed herself into a dark doorway, her back against the wall, her son held tight against her chest. She didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. The beam of light crept closer. Closer. It stopped—just two meters away. For three long seconds, it stayed there. Then it moved on. She exhaled slowly, her body trembling. And then she saw it. Across the road stood a small building, quiet and still, with a faint warm light glowing behind a curtained window. A sign hung above the entrance. Shanti Orphanage Malathi stared at it. Then at her son. Her arms tightened around him. “I can’t protect you…” she whispered. The words broke something inside her. She stepped forward and crossed the road. [END OF EPISODE 1]