[10th January 2025] – Present Day
Two years since vanishing from the world she once trusted.
The morning mist of the Himachali hills wrapped the small town like a secret, curling around terracotta rooftops and gnarled deodar trees. Inside a small flower shop-hidden behind vines and guarded by the fragrance of roses, lilacs, and regret — Aria Maheshwari adjusted a wilted tulip.
She didn't smile at customers. Didn't engage in gossip. She just arranged flowers and watched people forget pain as they inhaled beauty. It was easier to make others feel peace than to claim it for herself.
A bell above the door jingled. The postman, red-faced from the climb, handed her an envelope-no stamp, no official seal. Just her name:
To Aru.
She hadn't heard that nickname in two years.
The moment Aria Maheshwari tore it open, two things fell out: a folded paper and a slightly crumpled photograph. The paper was short, rushed, almost panicked.
> Aru,
If you're reading this, I'm already in danger. Maybe worse.
There's someone you need to meet.
Go to this address. Find her. Trust her.
Also, you have become an aunt. They are twins.
Save them.
Please...
For me.
>Your Rooh
Aria's hands trembled. Her eyes darted to the photo next — a grainy selfie of Ruhani, smiling tiredly with a younger girl, blood smeared across her arms and shirt, cradling two newborns, their tiny fists curled against her chest. The girl's eyes were haunted but fiercely protective.
Clutched in the girl's other hand was another photograph — an old one. It was of Ruhani and Aria, probably taken years ago. Ice cream on their noses, arms looped around each other. The kind of picture only best friends would keep-and only true ones would use to identify each other.
On the back of Ruhani's selfie, written in shaky handwriting:
"If I don't return in two days, find Aria Maheshwari. She will protect them."
Below it:
a set of coordinates and a hand-drawn sketch of a cottage surrounded by pines.
Aria stared at the two photos, her fingers trembling. It wasn't just a letter — it was 'a cry for help.' A code only she and Ruhani would understand.
Without a word, she closed the shop. Ignored the customer knocking on the door. Ignored the world entirely.
An hour later, she was on her car, tearing down narrow roads, the wind burning her cheeks. Toward a girl she'd never met. Toward twins who shouldn't exist. Toward a past she had tried to bury.
Because Rooh had called her.
And when Rooh called - Aria always came.
---
Miles away, inside a dim, half-collapsed stone cottage nestled deep within the Himachal woods, Vidya tried desperately to hush the cries of the two infants nestled in her lap.
She was failing.
"Shhh...please," she whispered brokenly, rocking them both, one in each trembling arm. Her voice cracked as her own tears flowed freely. "Please stop crying, I...I don't know what to do anymore."
The twins were inconsolable. One wailed endlessly, face red and tiny fists swinging. The other whimpered softly, gasping between sobs, as if his grief was too old for his little body.
Vidya pressed her forehead to theirs, shielding them from the cold, from the silence, from her own despair.
Seventeen. That's all she was.
Just a girl who had learned to kill before she learned to love. And now she was hiding in an abandoned forest cottage with two newborns who weren't hers but whom she had sworn to protect — because the only people who ever cared for her were gone.
'Where are you, Miss Angel?' she cried in her head. 'Where are you, Ruhani Di ?'
She hadn't seen her in days. She had waited and prayed that she would come back. That her mentor — Rudra would come back. That someone — anyone —would tell her what to do next.
But there had only been silence.
Now all she had was this address and the promise of a woman named Aria. Ruhani's best friend. Her protector.
Vidya looked down at the worn photograph she had kept folded in her jacket — Ruhani, and Aria. She had clutched it like a talisman ever since she fled that night. Her eyes lingered on Aria's unfamiliar face. She didn't know this woman, but she was all she had left to believe in.
'Please come quickly'... she begged silently. 'I don't know how much longer I can do this.'
---
Back on the winding forest road, Aria drove fast, the car shuddering beneath her as it hit another bump. The trees pressed close on either side, their branches like fingers trying to claw her back from the truth.
Her thoughts swirled louder than the wind outside.
'When did this happen?'
'When did Rooh meet someone? When did she fall in love enough to have children?'
'Why didn't she tell me?'
She remembered every promise they'd made. Every sleepless night spent whispering secrets. Every fight she had with her mother that ended with her head buried in Ruhani's lap, sobbing until sleep took her.
They were supposed to share everything.
But now,
'Rooh was gone.'
'There were babies.'
'A stranger.'
'And danger.'
And Aria was chasing shadows through a forest with only a photo and a letter to guide her.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as anger curled beneath the surface of her hurt.
'Who is he, Rooh? Who did this to you?',
'Why didn't you come to me?'
The road twisted again, and through the trees, she saw it — an old stone cottage, half-eaten by ivy, its broken chimney barely holding itself upright.
The car screeched to a stop in front of it. Aria jumped out, her boots crunching the gravel, and reached under her coat to feel the gun tucked at her side. Just in case.
Inside that cottage were answers.
And maybe, just maybe —
The beginning of something much, much darker than she was ready for.