I walked down the stairs as I heard some voice from main hall. My precious's family was gonna come today , to see her who is not exactly her.

She isn't my precious , Even if someone held a gun to my head and swore she's my Prerna, I still wouldn't believe it.Because I know her... I know her soul. If she ever stood before me again , I'd feel her, I'd just know.

But my precious...She isn't alive.

Even thinking that breaks something deep inside me. My heart shrinks,

my chest aches with the weight of her absence.

I want her back. God, please... bring her back to me. Do some magic, anything I swear, this time I'll protect her, shield her from every shadow, every pain. Just... bring her home. To me.

As I descended the stairs I heard their conversation. "Bas ye hi dua hai Prerna...ab tu hamse dur na ho." Ridhima mom said.

"Mai kahan jaungi maa...ab toh main yahi hoon. Aap sab ke pass. Trishu kaisi hai aur voh kaha hai?" She said. One more mistake girl.

Precious always used to call her mom 'mumma'.

Meri precious ka chehra to le layi lekin uski rooh sirf mai pehchan sakta hu.

"Trisha! Voh to Bombay me hi hai. Tu usse nahi mili? Adhyant ne nahi milaya?" Sirat chachi asked her.

"Nahi unhone to..."

"I thought voh pehle aap se mil le. Fir baaki sab se...aur uske sar pe gehri chot aayi hai na to use jyada pareshan nahi karna chahta." I interrupted before she could even speak.

Precious's dad looked at me but didn't said anything. I walked towards him and bend to touch his feet.

I knew he is upset with me , honestly it's my fault I shouldn't have let her go alone that day.

"You guys should take some rest , and Prerna also need some rest. You guys can talk to her tomorrow. " I suggested to which her mother nodded.

Ridhima : baatein to dher sari karni hai tujhse , lekin Kuwar sa sahi keh rahe hai. Rest Kar tu.

She said to Prerna.

I asked all of to rest in guest room and I along with house helps took their bags towards the guest room.

On the other side :

Sanchi and Ishaan were still stealthily navigating the crowd, occasionally ducking behind a pillar or pretending to check their phones... anything to avoid being spotted by the dean.

Just as Ishaan relaxed for a moment, a sudden pat on his back made him jump.

Ishaan : Dara hi diya tune mujhe!

He turned around to see Akshat grinning at him.

Akshat : tu kab aaya?

Ishaan : Thode der pehle...

Just then, a soft voice greeted them.

Amulya : Hello!!

Ishaan looked at her curiously, slightly taken aback by the unfamiliar face.

Ishaan: she is...?

Akshat : Amulya hai.

Ishaan : ohh

Before the conversation could continue, Sanchi excitedly chimed in, her mouth half-full from munching something.

Sanchi: Bhai! You should try yaha ke crispy veg... bohot tasty hai! Professor bhaiya ne to teen plate kha li!

Akshat : Bhai tu mere bina khana khane gaya? Gussa hu main... Katti!

Ishaan chuckled at his drama and opened his arms dramatically.

Ishaan : Aaja... tujhe haath se khilata hu. Ro mat.

Akshat folded his arms like a sulking child, turning his face away.

Akshat (dramatically): Main nahi khata. Dosti mein dhoka diya hai tune.

Ishaan rolled his eyes with a smirk, picked up a crispy veg piece from the plate, and extended it towards him.

Ishaan: Chup kar nautanki. Muh khol tujhe haath se khila raha hoon, izzat kar meri.

Akshat narrowed his eyes like he was still mad, but then opened his mouth with a small grin, letting Ishaan feed him.

Akshat (chewing): Hmm... okay. Taste toh sach mein kamaal ka hai.

Sanchi giggled seeing their drama.

Sanchi: Bas bhai! Tum dono ko dekh ke lag raha hai main shaadi mein nahi kisi comedy show mein aayi hoon.

Amulya, standing beside Akshat, couldn't help but smile softly.

Next morning :

The morning sun rose quietly over Malhotra Mansion, its golden light filtering in through the tall glass windows. Birds chirped softly outside, unaware of the silence that weighed heavy in one corner of the house.

Adhyant had been awake for hours.

He stood by the window of his room, fully dressed in a simple white kurta-pajama, his eyes vacant , fixed on a horizon far beyond the visible sky.

Today wasn't just any day. It marked six months. Exactly six months since she left him.

And this date , this cursed date

was etched in his memory like a scar that never healed.

He didn't tell anyone where he was going. Not even Akshat. Some wounds are too personal, too sacred to be shared.

He left the mansion silently, like a shadow, as if afraid even the air might ask him questions. The driver followed his directions without a word, sensing the silence that wrapped around him like armor.

The car stopped at the foot of an old dargah. The very one where once, long ago, he had brought her.

They had prayed here together. Laughed here. Dreamed here. And now, he returned alone. Empty.

As he walked up the steps, the world seemed to blur at the edges. His feet moved, but his heart dragged behind.

Tere darbar mein dil thaam ke wo aata hai

Jisko tu chaahe, aye-Nabi, tu bulaata hai

Tere dar par sar jhukaaye main bhi aaya hoon

Jiski bigdi, haaye Nabi, chaahe tu banaata hai

He kneels on the cool, marble floor of the dargah, his eyes brimming with desperation and tears. His hands tremble as he raises them in dua, palms open toward the sky not just a prayer, but a plea, a beg.

His fingers slowly curl inward as if trying to grasp hope from the heavens, then open again, quivering with helplessness.

Bhar do jholi meri, ya-Mohammad

Laut kar main na jaaunga khaali

He raises his head a little up as if looking at the divine power in the heavens. "Aajtk sab bin maange diya aapne bhagwan mujhe, shakal, akal, daulat, shohrat sab diya, achi family di naam diya kaam diya aur zindagi ka sbse pyara tohfa jo logo ko hona tak ek khushnaseebi hai mujhe meri taqdeer ne meri precious ke roop me vo de tak diya mujhe itni pyaari si biwi se nawaza." He didn't ask for wealth. Or success. He only begged for one soul. His precious.

jab talak tu bana de na bigdi

Dar se tere na jaye savaali

"Ek pal ko aisa lagne hi laga tha jaise aapki meherbani hogyi hai mujh pr aapne apna hath rakh diya hai mere sar par najane kitne sapne dekhe the meri precious ko vo sab dene ke jo vo deserve karti hai lekin aapne vo bharosa vo umeed tod kar rakhdi...Jis taar mai apne sapno ke moti bune maine vo taar hi tod di aapne vo har sapna bikhar gya hai khuda mera" His eyes shut tightly, holding back the storm that had become far too familiar inside him.

Khojte-khojte tujhko dekha

Kya-se-kya, ya-Nabi, ho gaya hoon

Ho, be-khabar dar-ba-dar phir raha hoon

Main yahaan se wahaan ho gaya hoon

Ho, de-de, ya-Nabi, mere dil ko dilasa

Aaya hoon door se main hoke ruhansa

Ho, kar de karam, Nabi, mujhpe bhi zara sa

"Aapme vo shakti hai vo taakat hai ki pal bhar me aap kisiko raaja se rank aur rank se raja bnane ki himmt rakhte ho haina to aaj apka apna hi beta bheekh maang raha hai ki is rank ko uski raani dedo bhagwan...

Mai paapi hu gunhegar hu bura hu, lekin usne kabhi kisi ka bura nahi chaha, use kyu vo jindagi nhi jeene de jisme uska adhyant sirf pyaar bharna chahta tha" Tears started dropping down from his eyes. He picked up the white cloth as a gesture of worshiping and offering it to god. He bowed down keeping his head on that cloth...

"Yeh chaadar nahi apna sab kuch chadane aaya hu bhagwan sab lelo mera bs meri mohabbat meri shiddat meri ibadat meri jindagi ka vo noor lauta do please pleaseeeee"

Jab talak tu...

Jab talak tu panaah de na dil ki

Dar se tere na jaaye savaali

Bhar do jholi meri, Taajadaar-e-Madina

Laut kar main na jaaunga khaali

"PLEASE LAUTA TO." He screamed loudly , stubbornly in pain. "Kardo na koi magic koi miracle dedo ab to mujhe meri precious janta hu nahi mar skti vo aakhiri mauke ke roop me dedo mujhe meri precious use bohot smbhalkar rakhunga bohot pyar dunga apne bete ko saja to dedi ab blessing bhi dedo."

Jaanta hai na tu, kya hai dil mein mere

Bin sune gin raha hai na tu dhadkanein

Aah nikli hai to chaand tak jaayegi

Tere taaron se meri duaa aayegi

Aye Nabi, haan, kabhi to subah aayegi

Jab talak tu sunega na dil ki

Dar se tere na jaye savaali (Allaah)

And then - a flutter.

Something light landed in the open jholi. Startled, he looked down.

A paper plane. Creased, slightly torn at the edge. Probably a child's playful throw gone astray.

His brows drew together as he picked it up carefully, his heart still pounding from prayer.

On the side of the paper plane, written in a child's uneven handwriting:

"My destiny is California."

Bhar do jholi meri, Sarkaar-e-Madina

Laut kar main na jaaunga khaali

Dam-dam ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Dam ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Dam-dam ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Dam ali-ali, dam ali

Ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Dam ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Ali-ali, dam ali-ali

Dam ali-ali dam ali-ali

His breath hitched. It meant nothing.

And yet, in that moment... it felt like everything.

A sign. A whisper from the divine.

He looked up slowly toward the sky, eyes glinting with unshed tears, the paper still clutched in his hand.

"What doest that mean?" He asked.

California :

Somewhere in the grimy underbelly of Los Angeles, inside a dimly lit warehouse soaked in shadows and secrets a screams echoed.

A man was tied to a metal chair, blood dripping from his nose, lips split open, breath ragged.Two bulky men towered over him, fists clenched, eyes wild.

"Speak!" one of them growled, punching him again. "Where did you hide the shipment."

The man coughed violently, blood mixing with spit as he shook his head, refusing to speak.

Another kick. More blood.

"Are you not gettinf the language i am speaking?" one of them smirked and turned toward the back.

And then...

The deafening crack of a gunshot pierced the air. Everyone froze. Silence. Thick. Heavy. Threatening.

Footsteps echoed , slow, deliberate.

From the shadows, a figure emerged, wrapped in black.

Aris D'Angelo.

The name itself was enough to drain the blood from anyone's face. He didn't need introductions. He didn't need threats. The devil had his own silence , and it screamed louder than bullets.

Jet-black coat flowing, tattoos curling up his neck, a sharp jaw dusted with stubble, and eyes... eyes that carried death.

Without saying a word, he walked up to the man in the chair.

And then , A single blow to his jaw sent the man's chair tilting.

"You made me come all the way down here..." Aris murmured, voice calm... almost disappointed.

He took off his gloves slowly, one finger at a time. The tension was suffocating.

He crouched beside the battered man, grabbing his hair and forcing his gaze up.

"You think pain is the worst I can do?"

His voice dropped to a whisper terrifying in its softness. The man whimpered.

Aris stood And pointed his gun to his head. A heartbeat passed.

One finger slowly curling on the trigger.

She entered quietly, draped in a black ankle length dress , a jacket over it that flowed with every step. Her hand rested gently on her six-month baby bump , eyes holding stories untold.

Just as his finger tightened around the trigger...A soft yet firm hand grabbed his wrist. He froze.

The room, which already held its breath, now went silent in disbelief.

His eyes shifted slowly toward the hand that dared stop him. And there she stood.

Priyanshi Aris D Angelo.

Her eyes locked onto his-fearless, yet gentle.

"Aris..." she whispered, not flinching, "Enough."

The man on the chair stared at her like she was a ghost. The guards looked at each other, confused and startled. No one stopped Aris. No one ever touched his gun. But she had.

He lowered the gun, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable. Then turned fully toward her.

"You shouldn't be here, mi amor" he said, his voice sharp, controlled.

To be continued... ❤️

This chapter is a work of fiction, created purely for storytelling purposes. I hold deep respect for all religions and beliefs. If, in any way, something I wrote unintentionally hurt anyone's sentiments, I sincerely apologize. Please don't take it to heart. My only intention was to bring emotions to life through my characters.

Thank you for reading with love and understanding. 💛