38 - A true ropy night & congestive risk(S2)

Prithvi's body lay motionless, sprawled on the ground while the world churned like an iceberg teetering on the edge of collapse. He was fainted, drained by his own exhaustion, his chest barely rising and falling. Nearby, his phone buzzed incessantly where it had been tossed aside, vibrating and glowing as calls came in one after another.

He twitched violently in his unconscious state, his body jerking as if trying to escape some unseen torment.

With each vibration of the phone, his hand made faint, irritated movements, but the device eventually went dark.

Then came the sound. A metallic scraping sound which echoed in the stillness, sharp and menacing, growing louder with every step.

A man approached.

His boots, adorned with thick steel at their centers, dragged ominously against the rough surface, sending chills through the air.

The figure stopped. He was cloaked in black from head to toe, a baseball cap shadowing his face, and a maroon hoodie pulled low, its extended brim hiding any features beneath. Slowly, he crouched down beside Prithvi, balancing on one knee. The man pulled his mask down to reveal his chin, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned closer, his voice smooth yet laced with venom.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he murmured, his tone like silk wrapped around barbed wire. "Since we've seen you like this—nervous, fidgeting, scarred. Tsk." He clicked his tongue, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied the faintly twitching body before him.

"Honestly, it's a pleasure to see you like this again," he continued, his voice dripping with sinister delight.

He noticed a faint movement from Prithvi's hand and turned his gaze toward it with unsettling precision.

Rising swiftly, he strode to where the hand lay and crouched again, inspecting the grime-covered palm.

As his gloved fingers ran over the open hand, he sneered, disgust flashing across his eyes. "Should we let you die here?" he mused, his voice a low growl as thunder rumbled overhead, the sky seeming to crack in violent agreement. "Put you into a deep sleep? Forever?"

Lightning flashed, illuminating his face, now twisted with monstrous glee. But in an instant, his expression shifted to one of chilling composure. Slowly, he pried Prithvi's hand open, which yielded easily, limp and defenseless. His lips curled into a wicked grin as a flicker of forbidden joy danced in his eyes.

"Or," he whispered, his voice a mocking hiss, "should we treat you this time? Keep you alive so you can suffer. There are so many creative ways, far better than this pitiful, cowardly excuse for a death."

He stood abruptly, jerking Prithvi's hand aside with disdain before placing his boot firmly over it.

His teeth clenched, and his voice deepened with venom as he pressed harder.

"And, Prithvi... we'll craft the most exquisite torment for you. You'll long for death, only to embrace the hell of regret again and again."

He ground his heel into Prithvi's hand with deliberate force, the sound of bone scraping against metal drowned by the howling wind and crackling thunder.

Then, with a final, vicious sweep of his leg, he kicked Prithvi's hand away, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on the broken man below him.

He crushed Prithvi's hand, fingers one by one, with his shoe. Prithvi weakly reacted to it in his fallen state, coughing hard.

The more Prithvi groaned in pain, the more he continued.

Then he sat back, manically smiling, a curve spreading across his lips. "No, no! Don't die yet! Fight back, Prithvi. Our stupid hero, you need to f..fight" he laughed In between "Someone must be waiting for you to come! And who knows—if it's them or their body."

Prithvi trembled, taking the pain in silence, lying motionless on the floor.

The man masked himself again, his voice cold as he said, "An easy death isn't an option for you. For your deeds, we have much more planned ahead for you. There's still so much for you to face, my dear."

Prithvi struggled weakly in his unconscious state, his body protesting, his eyes fluttering.

The man looked disturbed by the faint sounds and closed his eyes impatiently.

He then reached for Prithvi's phone, pulling out a wireless OTG device with gloved hands and inserting it into the phone. A small application popped up on the screen and began loading.

The man glanced back at Prithvi, his lips curling into a grim expression. "Must be the most sadistic irony of life for someone to have ever lived or faced in all of history," he commented dryly.

Once the process completed, he retrieved the USB-like device and tossed the phone back onto the ground.

Prithvi's eyes blinked weakly, but his body remained still. His phone continued to ring, again and again.

Several minutes passed.

It wasn't right for him to relax—someone was waiting for him. He couldn't rest here all night. But there was no chance of his consciousness returning anytime soon.

His body twitched, and his muscles contracted as he groaned in pain, taking in big puffs of sand. He painfully tried to open his eyes. "Agh," he groaned as his arm and neck muscles tensed. Sprinting in pain, he raised his arm to cover his face from the glow of the streetlight.

Panting heavily, he felt the sharp sting in his hand and the tightness in his temples. With urgency, he looked at his hand, trembling torturously.

The sting near his neck intensified. Without thinking, he urgently swallowed the entire pile of pills in his hand, taking a deep, shaky breath. His phone continued to ring beside him, but he closed his eyes and sighed heavily, sinking back into his former position. After a moment, he forced himself to rise, determined, and headed toward his car.

Opening the glove box, he retrieved a box of pills, dumped them into his hand, and swallowed them all. Thumping his chest and rubbing it for relief, he leaned against the car door, closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself.

His phone rang again, snapping him out of the haze. He picked it up, cutting the call with a swipe, then stared at the screen. Bombarded by notifications—messages from family, the media, and even the police—he licked his dry lips, took control of himself, and dialed a number.

Faking strength, he straightened his back and answered tersely, "Yes?"

"Boss, where are you? I need to inform you—someone took him to the hospital, but he was found... no more."

Prithvi closed his eyes, a wave of grief washing over him. He leaned his exhausted body back against the car for support.

"Boss? Are you okay?" Amar's voice shouted through the phone.

"Huh? I'm listening," Prithvi responded, his tone distant.

"Boss, I know this isn't the right time, but I have to tell you—he's the same boy who joined us last year. The one who practically crashed into us for this job!" Amar's voice trembled slightly.

Prithvi's brows furrowed as Amar continued, "The one who gifted you that hand-embroidered handkerchief this morning."

Prithvi's hand instinctively went to his pocket. Pulling out the soft cotton piece, he stared at the initials carefully stitched onto it, surrounded by traditional floral patterns.

His mind flashed back to earlier that day. He remembered the boy's shy demeanor as he handed over the handkerchief, standing awkwardly in the lavish party's waiting room. "Sir, this is for you. My grandmother made it—congratulations on your marriage," the boy had said, his nervous smile genuine and warm.

Prithvi crumpled the flower embroidered on the cotton piece. The boy had hesitated, unsure if it was worthy enough as a present for someone like him, and yet, in the end, he had given his life. That gesture was priceless—something Prithvi could never repay.

"Just who are you?" Prithvi muttered to himself through gritted teeth.

Prithvi, looking quite distracted, refocused on the call and answered with a feigned tone of authority, "Amar, send them the insurance. If he has any family, let me know if they need anything."

He glanced at his phone, noticing another call coming in. He asked Amar to hold.

Answering his father, he said, "Dad, there was a death at the scene. I'll handle and resolve the matter as soon as the sun rises. You don't need to worry. I'll brief you with the details later. For now, I need to get back to another call." He ended the call with a weary sigh, massaging his temples.

He scratched his head and, in irritation, muttered into the empty valley and roads, "Wait until I find you. I will not let you walk around playing with other lives for long."

Returning to the call with Amar, he said, "Will you make a visit to them? I'll look into his family details. He had a grandmother—quite old!"

Prithvi stayed silent.

"But boss, do you think you can do it now? I know the family is grieving, but you've had a horrible time yourself," Amar said.

"Yes, I should. The least I can do is share my grief with the family—for not being able to take care of him as I promised," Prithvi replied, his stoned heavy heart.

He rested his head against the car door for a moment, then hastily moved to check his car to see if it was working. "I'll arrange the visit," he added.

"Boss! I know it's late to ask, but have you reached the palace safely?" Amar inquired.

Prithvi crouched to inspect if anything was damaged, but luckily the car was in working condition, the damage not as severe as he had feared. Closing the tank, he stood up and reached for the car door. Amar continued, "Is ma'am okay...?"

"Ma'am?" Prithvi stopped right in front of the car door, repeating Amar's words in surprise. "What Ma'am?"

"Ma'am was with you... You took her, right? She looked quite disturbed by today's whole situation's" Amar explained.

"What?" Prithvi said in a state of shock.

He froze for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the front seat in horror. His eyes fell on the empty seat beside him. He cursed himself, his realization hitting him like a blow. How could he have been so reckless? He had left his own wife behind, making another monumental blunder. Two mistakes in one day.

"Damn it, Prithvi," he muttered, He vividly remembered his last words to her and how cruelly he had abandoned her on an empty road.

"No... God, what did I do?"

"Boss, what happened? Is ma'am okay?" Amar asked, his concern intensifying.

"Amar, how long has it been since we left from there?" Prithvi tried to unlock the door.

"It's been two hours, or maybe a bit more. You left from here, boss. You didn't reach the palace. Where is ma'am? Is she sleeping? She looked quite drained."

"Amar, I think.. I've lost her..."

"What? You what, boss?"

"Amar, can you locate her? Her handset should be with her, I guess."

"I... I'll do it now."

"No, shit! I'll call you later. Please track it as soon as you can," he uttered, opening the gate finally. He ended the call and threw his phone to the other side of the seat.

"Damn it, damn it, Prithvi, how stupid!" he muttered, sitting back hastily. He ran exhausted hands over his seatbelt, feeling like his entire existence was drained.

His eyes were weary, and he knew he no longer had any energy left in him. Soon, he felt the lack of blood around his neck, as if his body were running on bolts, like a racehorse charging through a field—engulfed, like a snake creeping out and rising, then wrapping around his neck, tightening, and penetrating his whole body with motion, helplessness, and deprivation.

Quickly, he opened the toolbox without waiting and took out a sealed bottle of the same pills, swallowing them whole. He dialed his wife's number, retrieving again his handset.

How scared must she be feeling? Prithvi pondered deeply. How could he be such a loser and still call himself a man after all that? How could he be so absent and irresponsible, and, on top of all that, frustrated to the point that he projected all of it onto her? What kind of prejudice did he hold against her to pull this off?

He started the engine and called her simultaneously, multitasking.

But not getting a response, he threw his phone in impatience. "Damnit! I was so busy mourning that I forgot her... my responsibility. I forgot my own wife!" He slammed his foot on the accelerator, backing up.

Taking a U-turn, he muttered, "No, be safe, my lady! I... your loser husband is coming. Please, until then, somehow! Survive!" He kept saying encouraging words to himself.

Thank God at least his car was still working; otherwise, Prithvi's death would have been announced right there. Now he was talking to the air, driving at maximum speed, overtaking his growing concern for her.

While driving, his side eyes shot to another vibrating handset. Prithvi answered, without thinking, coming from Jairaj. Before Prithvi could say anything, Jairaj barged in with a reasonable question that made damn sense out of Prithvi, "Where do you think you were? Busy thinking you could just drop my daughter on a lone road like she's some discarded thing of yours?"

Prithvi spoke with hesitation, his lips quivering. "I'm sorry. I'm going. I had a small accident."

'How the hell could I—no, leave her all alone?' The thought came into his mind with great depression. 'Why did I make her a target of my own miseries and suffering?' He shook his head, looking ahead. "No! That doesn't make sense," Prithvi muttered, putting the car into a higher gear. He sped up, more dangerously than before.

"Put that in your mind," came a voice with a warning. "Come to your senses, Prithvi. Send someone to her. If something happens to her, I swear to God, Prithvi, I'll make sure you can't show your face anywhere. She just hoped you'd die, but I'll make sure to kill you myself and take that pleasure."

Prithvi didn't say anything in complaint or defense. "I... I'm going myself. I'll make sure she's safe. She's my wife too, I know, I'm late, ashamed, but I know well how to protect her with my life." He ended the call.