"Oh-ho, don't worry." Siddharth placed a warm hand on the old man's shoulder. "Why am I here - for you. Your daughter will get justice. And those pathetic monsters will spend a lifetime in prison."

The old man's face contorted, his voice trembling. "They burnt my daughter alive, sahab." Tears spilled down his wrinkled face as he joined his hands. "My two little granddaughters are left orphaned. Their father and grandparents killed their mother." He hid his face in the fabric of his worn dhoti, sobbing uncontrollably.

Siddharth's throat went dry at the sight.

How can someone do this? That too for money? Well, what to say-I've seen the worst cases.

A loud honk, followed by the shrill blast of a traffic police whistle, echoed.

"Hey! Stop!"

The sudden noise made Siddharth snap his head toward it. His eyes narrowed, following the policeman's outstretched arm, locking onto the speeding bike.

His mouth dropped open.

"Rudraksh!"

He hastily turned back to the old man. "Don't worry, okay? Everything will be fine." Squeezing his shoulder, he turned and sprinted toward his car.

As he pulled out of the parking spot, the tires screeched slightly, and he accelerated, chasing after Rudraksh's bike. The wind rushed past him, slapping his face, making his eyes squint and his teeth grit. The sounds of the night city blurred together in a cacophony of horns, engines, and sirens.

The policeman's bike pulled up alongside him, the officer's face set in grim determination.

As Siddharth's car came parallel to Rudraksh's bike, he shouted, "Rudraksh! Rudraksh! What are you doing, man?!"

"My brake has failed, Sid! I'm not getting control of it!"

Siddharth's heart skipped a beat as he watched his friend's desperate struggle to steer the bike to safety. "Don't panic, Rudraksh! Don't panic!" His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he tried to match Rudraksh's speed.

"There's a train track ahead!"

"What?!" Both friends' heads jerked toward the traffic policeman.

"Yes! A train track passes after one kilometer! We have to do something fast!"

Rudraksh's heart pounded in his chest as he clung to the speeding bike. The biting winter wind whipped his shirt wildly like a fluttering flag. His fingers went numb around the handlebars. He frantically tried to downshift, using engine compression to slow the bike, but the speedometer needle hovered at a terrifying level.

"Sid! If I die, tell my family that I love them! Also tell Karan that I'm sorry! You both have been amazing friends to me over the years! I love you all so much!"

Siddharth gripped the steering wheel tightly, shouting his lungs out, "Stop talking nonsense, Rudraksh! Nothing will happen to you!"

Sleek fingerprints appeared on the steering wheel as he pressed and released the accelerator to match the bike's pace. His eyes darted to the fuel indicator, and widened.

"Rudraksh! Is the tank full?!"

"What?!"

"Fuel! The fuel!"

"I've no idea!"

Siddharth scanned the road ahead. "Then try to take a U-turn! Drive until it runs out!"

"I-I can't! It's out of control! I'm gonna crash anyway!"

The bike's engine sputtered, its growl breaking unevenly as the speedometer dipped. Rudraksh's eyes shot wide. He pulled the handlebars, fighting the wobble, but the bike swerved out of line, zigzagging across the road. The wind screamed against his helmet. His grip tightened. The engine gave one last cough-then went dead.

In a split second, the world tilted. He was thrown off, slammed hard onto the asphalt, and skidded across the rough surface, stopping just a foot shy of the track. His helmet cracked against the road and rolled into the dark. The bike screeched ahead before crashing into the night.

Siddharth's eyes widened. He slammed the brakes, his body jerking forward. Throwing open the car door, he sprinted toward Rudraksh.

The train thundered by, its horn blaring a deafening blast that shook the very foundations of the earth. The sound waves pulsed through Siddharth's body, making his heart race even faster.

Rudraksh lay there, dazed and battered, his chest heaving. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, as he watched the train roar past. The carriages blurred together in a picture steel and light maelstrom that seemed to stretch on forever.

As the train disappeared into the night, an eerie silence fell, broken only by Rudraksh's labored breathing. He sat there, frozen, mouth agape and eyes wide. He tried to get to his feet, but his legs wobbled beneath him, and he fell back onto the dirt, the rough asphalt scraping his palms.

"Rudraksh!" Siddharth's voice was laced with urgency as he grasped his friend's arms, helping him stand. "You okay, buddy?"

Rudraksh groaned, his body swaying as he struggled to stay upright. The scrapes and cuts on his skin burned with every movement. The reopened wound above his eyebrow trickled blood that mixed with dirt and grime on his face. His palms were raw and bleeding, his knees throbbed with each step, and the dirt-encrusted fabric of his black shirt and grey pants scratched at his joints, adding to his discomfort.

As he stumbled forward, his vision blurred for a moment before clearing again. He reached out a trembling hand to the back of his head, probing the tender spot before bringing it in front of his face.

Siddharth's eyes widened at the sight of blood staining Rudraksh's fingers.

Rudraksh's face contorted as he twisted his left wrist, his teeth gritting in a futile attempt to stifle a groan.

Siddharth's grip on him tightened in response, and they approached the wrecked bike, Rudraksh's face crumpled. "My bike..." he whispered.

The headlights were shattered, their glass shards glinting faintly in the moonlight. The front wheel was twisted at an awkward angle, its metal spokes bent and warped, while the back wheel still spun in a slow rhythm.

He took a tentative step forward, his injured ankle protesting with a sharp jolt of pain that made him wince.

Siddharth's grip tightened, holding him steady as he swayed.

"How did it happen?" Rudraksh's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "It was all good. I-I..." He paused, his eyes still fixed on the bike, his mind replaying the moments leading up to the crash.

"Rudraksh..." Siddharth blinked, gently bringing his fingers close to the reopened wound. "Let's go to the hospital first."

Rudraksh pointed a blood-stained finger toward the mangled vehicle. "But my bike?" he whispered.

Siddharth's gaze flicked toward the policeman standing nearby. His eyebrows rose in a silent query, and the officer gave a discreet nod. His face softened into a reassuring smile as he turned back to Rudraksh. "The traffic police will take care of it. Don't worry, it'll be fine. Let's go." He patted Rudraksh's back gently, coaxing him toward the car.

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Ira tilted her head, asking in a hushed tone, "How many people are up there?" The sound of laughter and clapping drifted down the stairs.

Panchhi walked beside her, her fingers absently tracing the rough texture of the railing as they climbed the concrete steps.
"Not many. Just our family," she whispered back. "A few more people will come by tomorrow evening or the day after."

Ira nodded slowly, her hands mindlessly smoothing the fabric of her jeans.

"But there will be so many people at the wedding," Panchhi added, turning to Ira with a wide smile.

"Do you have mehendi on your feet that you both are walking like tortoises?"

The high-pitched voice made both sisters snap their heads toward the speaker.

Ira's face broke into a wide smile, while Panchhi's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance.

The woman - their elder aunt and Jheel's mother - stood before them, her hands on her hips and a playful glint in her eyes.

Ira approached her with wide arms, mirroring her aunt's gesture, but instead of a hug, she ducked and extended her hands toward her aunt's feet.

The woman's eyes widened, and instinctively, she jumped backward, her hands outstretched to push Ira's away.

"Hey, hey, hey! Nieces and nephews don't touch their aunt's feet! Do you want me to commit a sin?!" Her voice was stern, but her lips stretched into a wide smile.

The surroundings erupted with laughter as Ira and Panchhi held their stomachs, their giggles echoing through the room. Their aunt chuckled, shaking her head, her face creasing with smile lines.

"Okay, okay, enough teasing me." The aunt lifted her hands in mock surrender, palms facing the girls. "Ira, take a seat. I'm coming." She gestured toward an empty chair on the open rooftop, the LED bulb casting a warm glow over the intricately designed floor.

Ira nodded, the laughter fading into a polite smile as she settled into the chair.

A few minutes later, her aunt returned with a large plate of water, the liquid sloshing softly as she walked. She sat down on the floor at Ira's feet, her hands gently wrapping around her niece's ankle.

Ira's eyes widened, and she reached out toward her aunt's hands. "Mami! I can wash them myself."

Her aunt continued the ritual, her movements precise as she pushed up the hem of Ira's jeans and lifted her feet into the plate, washing them with care. A warm smile touched her lips as she looked up. "Nieces and nephews are considered Brahmins here in our culture. Their blessings are said to be pure and heartfelt."

Ira chuckled softly, closing her eyes as she placed her hands on her aunt's head. "May God bless you with all prosperity, happiness, and kindness."

Her aunt's smile deepened as she lifted the plate, where another pair of feet awaited.

Panchhi smirked, raising her eyebrows. "I'm also your niece. Wash my feet too. I'll give you a very powerful blessing."

The aunt sprinkled a handful of water toward her, the droplets glistening in the warm light as they landed on Panchhi's face.

Panchhi laughed, and the aunt repeated the ritual, washing her feet with the same gentle precision.

As she finished, Panchhi stepped back, extending her hand toward her aunt's head, only the tip of her middle finger grazing her hair. Stifling a laugh, Panchhi exclaimed, "Doodho nahao, pooton phalo!" Her laughter rang across the rooftop as she ran away, barefoot, her long dark hair flowing behind her.

Her aunt chased after her, splashing the leftover water on Panchhi's back. The rustle of her saree and jewelry mingled with their laughter.

Ira watched the scene unfold before her with a warm, contented smile.

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The speedometer needle quivered near its highest mark as Siddharth took a sharp turn. He gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand while the other shifted gears. His eyes darted between the road and his friend.

Rudraksh's eyes were closed, jaw clenched, head lolling to the side. He breathed heavily through his mouth. A handkerchief was wrapped around his forehead, stained red with blood that oozed from the gashes beneath. His lips were dry and cracked, his throat bobbing as he swallowed continuously.

The car's interior filled with the sound of the wind rushing past, when Siddharth's voice cut through it, loud and urgent. "Rudraksh, you okay?"

Rudraksh responded faintly, "Hmm..." His fists clenched weakly on his lap.

Siddharth glanced at his contorted face before turning back to the road. "Hang in there, buddy! We're almost there. Don't lose consciousness."

"Sid..."

Siddharth quickly answered, his voice softening. "Yes, buddy, I'm listening."

Rudraksh's lips parted, his voice slow and strained, each word an effort. "Don't-don't tell them at home about my accident." His eyes flickered open, gazing at Siddharth with a pleading look. "Tell them I'm on some business work... and will return after a couple of days."

"I need to tell them," Siddharth replied firmly.

Rudraksh's hand twitched, his fingers curling loosely into a fist. "P-please, Sid. For me. I've... I've already caused them enough problems. Not anymor-" He broke off, coughing roughly.

Siddharth slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop threw their bodies forward. In an instant, he was out of the car, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he rushed to Rudraksh's side.

The porch light beat down on Siddharth's face as he flung open the car door. The noise of horns and voices surrounded them. He cradled Rudraksh in his arms and lifted him out, his white shirt quickly stained with crimson. Using his leg, he pushed the car door shut with a metallic click.

"Hey! Here! It's an emergency!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the parking lot.

The medical staff turned toward him, their eyes widening at the sight of Rudraksh's battered form. They hurried forward with a stretcher, transferring him swiftly onto it before rushing toward the hospital entrance. Their footsteps echoed in the air as they disappeared into the emergency ward.

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Anusuiya's fingers flew across the phone's keypad, her face tightening as she pressed the buttons for what felt like the hundredth time. The cool handset was wedged between her warm palm and ear.

"What happened, Maa?" Antara asked softly as she approached, cradling Swastik on her shoulder.

Anusuiya set the handset back on the base with a thud. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "I've been trying for the past half hour, but Rudraksh's phone still isn't connecting. And your father isn't home either."

Antara's gaze drifted to the pendulum clock on the wall. "It's almost 10 p.m. He should've been home by now." She pulled her phone from the pocket of her blue cardigan. "Let me try."

But before she could dial, the telephone rang.

Anusuiya nodded quickly and reached for the handset with urgency. "Hello, Rudraksh?"

"Aunty, pranam. It's Siddharth here."

Anusuiya's face softened, a faint smile easing her expression. "Oh, Siddharth! Khush raho, beta, khush raho."

"Aunty... Rudraksh asked me to tell you that-uh-that he's got some emergency work. So, he'll be home after a couple of days."

There was a pause that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Anusuiya parted her lips to speak, but Siddharth hurried on before she could.

"Rudraksh's phone is dead, so he won't be able to connect for a while. Don't worry, he's going to be fine..."

Anusuiya's eyebrows drew together. "Going to be?"

"I-I mean, he's fine. He's having dinner. I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye, Aunty. Pranam."

As the call ended, Anusuiya slowly set the handset back on the base. "Khush raho, beta..." she murmured, her gaze distant as worry began to cloud her thoughts.

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Ira stood at the doorstep, her black patiala and half-sleeve T-shirt a stark contrast to the warm peach-colored curtain billowing behind her. The afternoon sunlight danced across her face, highlighting her puffy eyes and the tangled hair that fell to her waist. She stretched her arms above her head, holding her hoodie in one hand.

"So cold," she muttered, her breath misting in the air. Her gaze drifted to her cousin, who was wrapped in a plain black shawl, her eyes still closed.

Panchhi's mouth stretched into a wide yawn, revealing a glimpse of her tongue, and her voice came out hoarse and sleep-roughened. "This much noise at the roka, they'll burst my eardrums at the wedding."

Ira nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping as she patted Panchhi's back with a gentle touch. "Yeah, we need to make sleeping arrangements beforehand."

Panchhi leaned into her, resting her head on Ira's shoulder.

Ira wrapped her arms around Panchhi, holding her close as she rested her chin on Panchhi's head.

As they stood there, eyes closed, their breathing synchronized, and their bodies relaxed into each other.

A splash of cold water hit their faces like sharp pins, sending a stinging sensation across their skin. Their eyes snapped open, faces contorted.

"Wake up, sloths!" Jheel screamed.

Twisting her face, Panchhi lunged at Jheel, her hands grasping for her. "What the hell, Jheel!"

Jheel dodged her move with a laugh. "Jheel didi!"

"Didi, my foot!" Panchhi retorted.

With a swift motion, she snatched the bowl from Jheel's grip and poured the remaining water over her head.

The cold liquid cascaded down Jheel's face, and she stood frozen for a moment, eyes widened in disbelief. Then her expression shifted, fierce and fiery, and she lunged at Panchhi, gripping her hair.

Panchhi mirrored her, and within seconds, the two girls were entangled in a chaotic hair-pulling battle.

Ira watched the commotion with a corner of her lips twisted upward and an unblinking gaze. She raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and turned away toward the tap in the open area of the rooftop, where two unfamiliar middle-aged women were whispering about their relatives.

The sound of their gossip and the clanging of utensils grew sharper as Ira approached.

She picked up a neem stick and chewed on it until the fibers frayed, forming a makeshift brush at one end. Then she rubbed her teeth up and down, left and right, the rough texture of the stick and its bitter taste scrubbing at her gums and tongue.

With a satisfied spit, she deposited the foamy mixture into the drain and walked toward the tap, her footsteps quiet on the rooftop.

"Excuse me, one minute, please." Her voice was polite, but her tone remained neutral.

Both women stopped mid-motion, their eyes locking onto Ira like hawks zeroing in on prey.

One of them, her face creased into a sugary smile, asked, "Do you wake up at this time every day, beta?"

Closing her eyes, Ira splashed the cold water against her face. The sudden chill made her jaw clench. She wiped away the droplets, tracing the contours of her face. Then, turning her head slightly toward the woman, she forced a faint smile.

The women's gaze followed her as she walked away, their eyes boring into her back like hot needles.

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On the rooftop, Ira stood with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her black jacket. The chill of the evening air seeped through her hoodie, making her shiver as she leaned inward. Her gaze drifted to the vast expanse of the sky, where the sun's fading glow painted the clouds in hues of orange and red.

A group of women huddled in a corner of the rooftop, their breath visible in the cold air as they chattered and laughed.

One of them, her mouth twisted into a sly smile, spoke up, "Hey Vaidehi, I heard your daughter was taking medical entrance exams. She didn't pass, did she?"

Ira's ears perked up at the mention. Her expression remained impassive, but her eyes narrowed slightly. The wind whipped her hair across her face, and she brushed it back with her fingers. Her gaze swept over the group, lingering on the woman who had spoken before drifting back to the horizon.

The woman's contorted face didn't match the false cheer in her voice. "I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world or anything."

Ira's hands stayed tucked into her sleeves, her fingers curling into fists as she listened. Her eyes stayed fixed on the sky, but her ears caught every word.

Vaidehi raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "She didn't study, so what could I do? I gave her three years and did whatever I could." She lifted a palm in a helpless gesture, adjusting the fabric of her saree.

A dry smile curved Ira's lips as she listened to her mother's words. Her eyes began to glisten, and a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard, the ache making it difficult to keep her composure.

The woman spoke again, her tone dripping with self-righteousness. "Yes, yes, parents are only responsible for their expenses. Studying - they have to do that themselves." Her eyes flicked toward Ira in a quick side glance before returning to Vaidehi. "So, have you thought about her marriage?"

Ira's jaw tightened, her teeth gritting together. She turned sharply toward Vaidehi, her burning eyes locking onto hers.

Vaidehi met her gaze, and for a moment, neither of them looked away.

The wind picked up, rustling the clothes hanging on the rooftop. Ira's hair whipped across her face, but she didn't flinch, her gaze remained fixed on Vaidehi's.

A gentle smile spread across Vaidehi's face. "No, not now. I've shown her birth chart to our village priest. He said she shouldn't get married before twenty-four."

The woman tilted her head, her voice rising. "Ooooooh..." The sound stretched out like a wolf's howl under the moonlight. "So, how old is she now?" she asked, leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap.

Vaidehi's smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. "She's twenty-one." Her eyes darted toward Ira - who stood stiff, her gaze blazing at the woman, as if her eyes alone could burn.

The woman's eyes flicked between Vaidehi and Ira before she forced a wide smile.

Ira mirrored her expression,then dropped it just as quickly, her face returning to its usual blank calm.

The woman's smile faded. She turned back to Vaidehi. "Your daughter doesn't look twenty-one, Vaidehi," she said, twisting her lips. "She looks fifteen or sixteen with that thin frame and childlike face." Her eyes narrowed. "Doesn't she eat?"

Vaidehi sighed and brought her hand to her temple, massaging it wearily. "Yes... and her illness has taken a toll on her body. She has always been weak since childhood," she said tiredly. "Don't know how she'll get married."

Ira's eyes squeezed shut, her jaw clenching.

This is why I don't want to be part of these so-called family gatherings.

With firm, steady steps, she turned and walked away, her strides long and unhesitant.

A/N: Some questions from the first couple of chapters will be answered in the next chapter. So, stay tuned!