2

"Zakhm diye jo tune, woh sil rahe hain,

Mitti mein mila diya tha, phir bhi khil rahe hain.

Teri har chaal ka jawab milega,

Aaj chhup hain, kal hil rahe hain."

After a week

Vihaan's pov

I walked into the university, feeling restless for no reason. Something about today felt different, like I was waiting for something to happen. Or maybe it was someone I was waiting for?

As I climbed the stairs to my classroom, I couldn't help but think about Tulika. Why was she on my mind? She's just my student. This is not right, I told myself. But every time I see her, her innocent face stays in my head. There's something about her something pure, untouched by the harshness of this world.

I remembered the day she told me she didn't have anyone.

She had looked down when she said it, trying to hide her emotions, but her voice had cracked just a little. It broke something in me that day. I didn't know why, but her words stayed with me.

Ever since my breakup with Kriti, I'd stopped feeling much of anything. I didn't let myself get too close to anyone. But with Tulika, it was different. Looking at her, I could feel emotions coming back the kind I'd buried long ago.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. This is not normal. She's my student. I'm just being protective because she's vulnerable.

I walked into the classroom and looked around. The students were already there, chatting and settling into their seats. My eyes scanned the room automatically, looking for her. But she wasn't there.

I frowned, telling myself she was probably running late. I started the lecture, trying to focus on the topic but I couldn't help glancing at the door every now and then. Each time, I hoped to see her walk in with her books in hand, her usual soft smile on her face. But the door stayed closed.

As the class went on, I found myself getting distracted. I stumbled over a point in the lecture and had to pause to collect my thoughts. Why does it bother me so much that she's not here today?

After class, I sat in my chair while the other students left the room. I called out to one of the girls before she could leave. "Hey, didn't Tulika come today?" I asked.

She looked a little surprised but answered, "Mr. Thakur, I only talked to her on her first day. She doesn't really speak to anyone, so I have no idea why she didn't come today."

Strange.

I couldn't stop myself from feeling panicked. She'd once mentioned that she was living alone. What if something happened to her? The thought made me uneasy.

After the university hours, I decided I'd check on her. That day when I dropped her off, I remembered seeing where she lived. I'd just stop by, nothing more.

■

In the evening, I got into my car and drove to her place. As I stood in front of her door, I hesitated. Why am I here again?

I shook my head. It's okay, Vihaan. You're just here to check on her, that's all. Nothing more.

I knocked on the door. There was no response. I waited a moment and knocked again. Still no answer. After waiting for a bit longer, I sighed and turned to leave.

As I was walking away, I suddenly heard the sound of the door opening behind me. I turned around and saw Tulika's hand on the doorknob.

When I saw her, my chest felt tight. Why do I feel excited to see her? But then I noticed her face.

She had a bandage on her forehead and a bruise under her eye.

"Oh my God, Tulika! What happened?" I asked, rushing toward her.

She looked startled to see me. "Mr. Thakur, what are you doing here?"

"You didn't come to university, so I thought I'd check on you. Can I come in?" I asked, noticing her hesitance.

Her expression was odd, but she stepped aside and said, "Yes, yes, come in."

I entered her home and sat on the couch while she went to get me some water.

"Did I really come to Tulika? I've never cared for anyone like this before. Never felt this pull, this ache, this madness. But with her, it's different.

She's not the kind of person you can ignore. She's not the loudest in the room, but her presence is impossible to miss. The way her laughter feels like the first warm ray of sunlight, or the way her silence speaks louder than words ever could it messes with me.

I've always been the one in control. Detached. Focused. But she's shattered that carefully built wall around me without even trying.

And now, here I am, thinking about her every waking moment, questioning myself. Why her? Why do I care if she smiles or not? Why do I feel this need to protect her, to keep her close, even when I know she might not feel the same?

Tulika. Just her name is enough to make my chest tighten. She's a storm, and I'm the fool who's willingly walking into it, knowing full well it might destroy me.

The house was cool and quiet, but something felt...off. My eyes landed on a stack of old newspapers lying on a nearby table.

Curious, I picked one up. My brows furrowed when I realized it was from four years ago. Why does she have newspapers this old?

She came back with a glass of water and handed it to me. "Thank you," I said, placing the newspaper back down.

"You still haven't told me how you got hurt," I said, looking at her bandage.

She hesitated for a moment and then said, "Last night, there was a power cut. I didn't see where I was going, and I tripped over the table. I hit my head and fell."

My heart sank. She's all alone here, and no one was around to help her. That's terrible.

As I took a sip of water, I gestured toward the newspapers. "By the way, why do you have newspapers that are four years old?"

"Oh, those," she said quickly. "I've been searching for houses for the past few years, so I've collected them to look through the listings."

I hummed in response.

We talked for a while, and she eventually showed me around her small house. When we reached a door next to her bedroom, I asked, "What's in this room?"

"It's just a storage room," she replied casually. "I keep some old stuff in there."

I found it odd since she barely seemed to have enough things to fill her house. Where did this 'old stuff' even come from?

Never mind, I thought. Maybe I was overthinking.

"You're new here, right? How are you managing everything?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere lighter.

"Not very well," she admitted. "I haven't even gone shopping to buy clothes for myself. Everything feels so unfamiliar here."

I smiled, an idea forming in my mind. "Why don't I take you shopping tomorrow? It'll help you settle in a bit."

Her eyes widened, and she looked surprised. "Oh, no, I couldn't "

"Come on," I insisted. "You need new things, and I could use the company. It'll be fun."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay, I guess that would be nice. Thank you."

"Great," I said, feeling unexpectedly happy.

I couldn't help but ask her. "Don't you have a boyfriend? I mean, everybody in your class has one. Don't you?"

She shook her head slightly. "No," she replied, her voice soft.

Her silence was unbearable. It was as if every second stretched into hours. I had to keep the conversation going, anything to hear her speak again.

"Even I had a girlfriend back in college," I said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"You still have?" she asked, her eyes meeting mine briefly.

I shook my head. "No, we broke up."

"Why?" she asked, her curiosity genuine.

"Miscommunications, I guess," I said, my voice trailing off as the memory surfaced. "One day, she left without saying a word. That was it."

"What was her name?" she asked, her tone steady but her eyes searching.

"Kriti," I said, almost whispering the name.

As I said it, I couldn't help but wonder why she wanted to know. Did she care, or was she just making conversation? Either way, the way she looked at me in that moment it felt like she was trying to understand something about me, something deeper. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted her to.

After some time talking, I left her house, I couldn't help but feel relieved that she was okay. But there was still something about her that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

■

It was almost night, and Mom and I were sitting on the couch, talking about random things. Vikranth was sitting across from us, glued to his phone as usual. I had no idea what he found so interesting on it all day.

The doorbell suddenly rang, and Mom got up to answer it. I followed her to the door. When she opened it, Dad was standing there, holding his bicep with one hand. The moment I saw his expression, I knew something had happened.

"Arvind, what happened?" Mom asked, her voice filled with concern as she stepped aside to let him in.

Dad walked in slowly and sank onto the couch. He removed his hand from his arm, revealing a bandage stained with blood. My stomach twisted at the sight.

"Dad, what happened to your arm?" I asked, my voice rising in panic.

"I got shot today," Dad said casually, like he was talking about the weather.

"Shot?!" Mom and I exclaimed at the same time.

"How? When? Where?" I added quickly.

Dad sighed, looking at his injured arm. "We were so close to catching Siddarth Khanna today. We almost had him, but he shot at me and managed to escape."

"Oh my God! Did you go to the hospital? Is it serious?" Mom asked, sitting beside him and inspecting the bandage.

"Yes, I went to the hospital immediately after it happened. The doctors treated me, and they said it's not too deep, but it's still a gunshot wound," Dad explained, leaning back on the couch.

I couldn't help but stare at the bandage. The sight of blood was making me anxious. "Dad, are you sure it's not that bad?" I asked softly.

Just then, Vikranth, who had been silently watching from his seat, stood up and walked over. He glanced at Dad's arm and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Looks like a K98 rifle."

"What? How would you know that?" I asked, frowning at him.

He gave me a mysterious look and smirked. "There are a lot of things I know that you don't."

With that cryptic comment, Vikranth turned around and walked out of the room.

I stared after him, completely baffled. "Is he out of his mind?" I muttered, looking at Mom and Dad for some kind of explanation, but neither of them seemed to have one.

■

Author's pov

Deep in the dense forest, Siddarth Khanna sat alone, a small fire crackling in front of him. He carefully turned marshmallows on a stick, occasionally popping one into his mouth. The moment was shattered when someone forcefully kicked him from behind, causing him to stumble forward.

Siddarth immediately knew who it was by the familiar aggression in the action.

"Are you out of your mind you fucking idiot?" Vikrant's voice was sharp as he stood towering over Siddarth.

Siddarth dusted himself off and turned to face him, unfazed. "I knew you'd come here, Thakur," he said, his voice calm yet taunting.

Vikrant didn't waste a second. He grabbed Siddarth by the collar, his eyes blazing with anger. "You promised me you wouldn't hurt my dad in all of this. But today, you shot him!"

Siddarth's expression darkened as he swiftly caught Vikrant by the throat, his grip tightening. "Your dad tried to kill me first. What was I supposed to do? Let him succeed? I only shot back in self-defense-and missed. Lucky for him."

Vikrant struggled against the hold but managed to push Siddarth away. "You're out of control! We had a deal, Siddarth. You swore you wouldn't harm my family. How could you break your word?"

"Deals can be broken, Vikrant," Siddarth said, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips.

"You're crossing the line" Vikrant warned, his fists clenched. "I'll kill you if you keep this up."

Siddarth stepped closer, his eyes cold and menacing. Without warning, he landed a solid punch to Vikrant's ribs, making him stagger back. "You won't kill me, Thakur. I know you too well. You're too soft for that. And besides, you need me alive. I'm not some weakling you can scare off. I killed the mafia king, brutally long back. Do you want me to show you what I'm capable of? Or worse, do it to you?"

Vikrant held his ribs, his breathing labored, but he refused to back down. "I'm warning you, Siddarth. Don't push me further. You think you're untouchable, but it will not be same."

Siddarth let out a low laugh, stepping back toward the fire. "Help me escape,Vikrant. Don't waste your time."

Vikrant's hands trembled as he reached into Siddarth's pocket, pulling out the gun. The tension in the room was suffocating, and the weight of Siddarth's words lingered in the air.

"You think you are a hero, don't you?" Vikrant hissed, his voice low but laced with fury. Without waiting for a response, he began unloading the bullets from the gun, one by one, letting them drop to the ground with a metallic clink.

Siddarth leaned casually against the wall, his expression unbothered, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "What's the matter, Vikrant? Afraid of something?"

Vikrant's jaw clenched as he finished emptying the gun and placed it on the table. "Don't start, Siddarth. Not now."

But Siddarth wasn't one to back down. "Why not? You knew what I did few years ago. You remember it all, don't you? The way his screams echoed, the way the blood pooled..."

"Stop it!" Vikrant's voice cracked as he spun around to face him, his eyes blazing. "I know, okay? I remember every detail of what you did. It was monstrous."

Siddarth smirked, his tone mocking. "Monstrous? Is that what you call survival? Do you know what would've happened if I hadn't acted? They would've killed us me, Vikrant."

"You didn't save yourself," Vikrant shot back, his voice shaking. "You killed a someone in cold blood. Brutally. And it still haunts me every damn day. Do you even feel an ounce of guilt for what you did?"

Siddarth shrugged, his nonchalant demeanor only fueling Vikrant's anger. "I did what had to be done. Sometimes, survival requires sacrifices."

Vikrant ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room as he tried to calm himself. "You moron, you talk about survival as if it justifies everything. But you crossed a line that day. And the worst part? You're proud of it."

Siddarth's smirk faded slightly, replaced with a hint of frustration. "You don't understand. You never will. You're too soft, Vikrant."

Vikrant stopped in his tracks, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And what about the punishment you deserve? The nightmares I live with those should be yours, Siddarth. Not mine."

Siddarth opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Vikrant raised a hand.

"I'm done with this conversation," Vikrant said, his tone final. He stepped toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at Siddarth. "One day, your actions will catch up to you. And when they do, I hope you finally understand what you've done."

Without another word, Vikrant walked away, leaving Siddarth standing in the middle of the forest, the sound of bullets scattered on the ground echoing in the silence.

Siddharth sat back, lazily tossing another marshmallow into his mouth. The sweetness melted on his tongue, but his thoughts had long drifted away from the simple pleasure of the treat.

The memories crept in, he could still hear the desperate cries echoing in his mind, the sharp edge of fear in their voice. It played like a haunting melody, one he couldn't erase even if he wanted to. The image of blood pooling on the floor flashed before his eyes.

His lips curved into a smirk, and his fingers tapped rhythmically on the marshmallow stick. He didn't regret it, not one bit. If anything, it gave him satisfaction, a twisted sense of accomplishment.

"I ruined lives," he muttered to himself, almost like he was tasting the words.

"One life for my peace," Siddharth whispered under his breath, the smirk growing wider.

It was silent, save for the faint rustle of marshmallow wrappers and the sound of leaves rustling.

He thought of the look in their eyes, when they realized what was happening. The betrayal. The anger. The fear. It had all been so raw, so... intoxicating.

Shaking his head, Siddharth let out a soft chuckle. "People like that... they think they're untouchable. But they're not. Nobody is. You cross me, you pay the price."

"Well," he said, stretching out his legs, "no use of thinking about it now. What's done is done."

But even as he spoke the words, the memories stayed. The satisfaction, the power it all lingered, etched into his mind like a permanent scar.

And as he sat there, smirking to himself, Siddharth knew one thing for certain: he would do it all over again if he had to.

He took out a wine bottle and sipped it. Then he told a shayari about the day which made him happy.

"Jo chehre pe khauf tha, unhe maine mita diya,

Zakhmon se apna raasta main ne banaya tha.

Woh shor, woh aansu, sab mere liye the khushi,

Har zulm ne mujhe ek nayi dastaan dikhayi thi.

Maine apne haathon se dard ko chhupa diya,

Mitti mein unki taqat ko dabaa diya.

Mera junoon, mera gussa, tha sab kuch sahi,

Jo samne aaya, wo mujhse toh kabhi na jeet paayi.

Aaj bhi yaad hai, wo khaufnaak pal mere,

Har ek paap se, mujhe milta tha sukoon apne.

Zakhm dena mera, ab ek aadat ban gayi hai,

Meri khushi ka raaz, bas unki takleef ban gayi hai.

("The faces that were filled with fear, I erased them,

With wounds, I carved my own path.

That noise, those tears, were all my joy,

Every cruelty showed me a new story.")

With my own hands, I hid the pain,

Buried their power deep in the ground.

My passion, my anger, everything seemed right,

Whoever stood in front, never won the fight.

I still remember those terrifying moments,

With every sin, I found peace in my soul.

Inflicting wounds became a habit for me,

The secret to my happiness was their misery.")

To be continued

So, how's the chapter?

I know the target didn't complete yet but I couldn't stop myself from uploadInga next chapter hoping that you will finish the target soon

Vote. Comment and let me know your review so that I can upload next story soon.

Major storyline is ahead😌

Target for next chapter: 200+ likes, 15+ comments