Episode------ 49
Rain eased to a cold drizzle, but the ruin's broken stones stayed slick with blood and water.
Aria's breath fluttered in shallow rasps. Color drained from her lips, eyelids trembling like moth wings caught in wind.
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Ayan's voice broke, raw as torn cloth:
"Aria, don't you dare close your eyes. Don't."
His hands hovered uselessly over her wounds, shaking so hard they blurred.
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Bashir wiped rain and blood from her brow with shaking fingers. "We have to move her, now," he urged.
"And take her where?" Lina demanded, voice cracking. "Every hospital is crawling with Malik's men. If they find her…"
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Aria's lashes fluttered, her gaze swimming in and out of focus.
Raian…
The memory of his eyes — grey, haunted, gentler only for her — flickered against darkness pressing in.
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Ayan's whisper turned ragged, more prayer than plea:
"He loves you. You hear me? He loves you. You have to live to tell him back."
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In the prison cell:
Raian's pulse hammered painfully, sweat chilling his fevered skin. Chains clinked with every restless shift.
She's hurt. I can feel it. Please, God… don't let it be too late.
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The door groaned open. Two guards stepped inside, their shadows long in the lamplight.
Raian's voice rasped, raw from hours of silence: "Tell me. Is she alive?"
The taller guard smirked. "Maybe. For now."
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Raian's breath caught, pain and relief twisting in his chest.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded, voice scraping his throat.
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The guard's smile faded. "The warden wants more. Names. Safe houses. Your family accounts overseas."
Raian's chest tightened. Give that, and I kill everything Father built…
But if it keeps her breathing…
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"Fine," he rasped. "But I see her first. Alive."
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The guards exchanged looks. "You're in no position to bargain," the shorter one sneered.
Raian's gaze turned cold as gunmetal. "Without me, you get nothing."
His voice cracked, but iron underlay every syllable. "Alive. Or the paper stays blank."
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At the ruins:
Aria's heartbeat faltered. Lina pressed trembling fingers to her throat. "It's fading," she whispered, terror raw in her voice.
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Bashir swallowed. "There's an old clinic by the river. Not under Malik's control. If she can last the drive…"
Ayan lifted Aria into his arms. Pain lanced through his side; old wounds screamed.
But he didn't stop.
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"Go!" Bashir barked, clearing rubble from the broken archway.
Rain beat on Ayan's shoulders. Aria's head lolled against his chest, breath a ghost of warmth.
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In the car they'd stolen hours ago:
Lina pressed cloth to Aria's wound, voice shaking. "Stay with me, Aria. Please. Just a little longer."
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Ayan drove, knuckles bone‑white on the wheel, vision tunneling.
Don't die. Don't die. Don't die.
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At the old print shop ruins:
Smoke curled through shattered walls. Flames caught damp paper, hissing.
Yet by fate or stubborn wind, one page fluttered free — Malik's ledger fragment, Dev's blood smudging the ink.
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A barefoot tea boy found it in the gutter, eyes widening at foreign names and numbers.
Someone will pay for this, he thought. Or someone will pay me for it.
Even truth, born of death, finds ways to live.
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At the riverside clinic:
A single bulb flickered over peeling walls. A doctor in a threadbare coat wiped his hands on a rag.
"She's lost a lot of blood," he murmured, voice tired but steady. "You want her to live, pray she wants it too."
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Ayan hovered outside the cracked door, shoulders soaked, guilt clawing through ribs and heart alike.
If she dies, it's on me.
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Inside:
Aria floated in a grey haze — neither pain nor peace.
Sounds bled together: rain on tin roof, Lina's choked sob, the distant pulse of her own heart.
And beneath it all… a voice, rough and familiar.
"I need you to breathe, Aria. Just breathe."
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Her lips parted, no air. Darkness pressed closer.
Raian…
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A distant echo of his hand brushing her cheek. His breath against her hair. "Stay, even when you see the worst of me."
"I already have," her own voice whispered back from memory. "And I'm still here."
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Fingers twitched. A flicker of breath.
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In the prison cell:
Raian sank to his knees, iron biting wrists. "If you let her die," he murmured hoarsely, "I will burn everything, even from these walls."
His voice broke. "Just let me see her breathe. Once."
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At the clinic:
The doctor leaned back, breath fogging in cold air. "Heartbeat's weak," he muttered. "But it's there."
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Aria's lashes fluttered.
"Aria!" Lina gasped, gripping her cold hand.
A faint breath, raw as rebirth, scraped past her lips.
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Outside:
Ayan sagged against the wall, wet stone rough against his brow.
Tears blurred his sight — rage, guilt, relief tangled into one ragged exhale.
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In Kolkata's alleys:
The barefoot boy hid the page under floorboards.
A rat scurried past, but the inked truth stayed dry.
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In prison:
A guard returned, face unreadable. "The doctor survived," he said curtly. "Barely."
Raian's breath exploded from bruised lungs, a choked laugh and sob tangled.
Alive. She's alive.
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His chains rattled as he sank against cold stone, tears streaking dirt‑smeared cheeks.
One breath. One chance.
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Beyond rain‑scarred walls:
Truth burned in paper. Love clung to life by shredded threads.
And for the first time, hope began to stir — blood‑stained, battered, but not yet broken.
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Teaser for Episode 50:
Aria wakes, haunted by what she's lost and what still hunts her. Raian risks everything for one glimpse of her face. And Malik, sensing betrayal, sharpens his knives for vengeance.