Outside the School — Late Afternoon
Students spilled out of the gates in clusters, laughing, chatting, dragging heavy backpacks behind them. The sun hung low, warm on the pavement. But for Yuvaan and Kiaan, the air around them felt heavier than the heat.
Yuvaan placed a hand lightly on Kiaan's shoulder as they approached the car.
His voice was quiet, controlled.
"Champ… I've told you so many times. Don't use your powers. Why don't you ever listen?"
It wasn't yelled.
It wasn't angry.
Just tired—like someone trying to parent a child he barely understood anymore.
Kiaan didn't stop walking. He didn't even look at him.
"Why?" he asked flatly. "So I should just let people talk about Mom?"
Yuvaan exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Kiaan—"
But the boy cut him off, turning slightly, his expression cold in a way that shouldn't belong to a nine-year-old.
"I refused today. And I'll refuse every day."
The words hit harder than the tone.
He opened the back door of the car but didn't get in yet.
His next sentence was quieter, but sharper.
"I couldn't protect her from you… but I won't let anyone else talk about her."
The street noise suddenly felt distant.
Yuvaan froze.
His eyes widened—just a fraction—but the hurt was clean, unmistakable.
"Kiaan…" His voice cracked before he caught it. "That's not fair."
Kiaan shrugged, gaze unblinking.
"I don't need your advice on my powers. You don't even understand them."
He lifted his wrist slightly.
"This stupid bracelet you made me wear already stops most of it anyway."
His tone wasn't rebellious—it was resigned.
A child who had stopped expecting his father to understand him.
Without waiting for a reply, Kiaan climbed into the car and slammed the door shut—
not hard, not dramatic,
but final.
Yuvaan stood there for a few seconds, looking at the closed door as though expecting it to open again.
It didn't.
Slowly, he walked around to the driver's side. His steps were stiff, controlled—because if he let himself feel too much, the ground beneath him might give way.
He got in, fastened his seat belt, and started the car.
Neither of them spoke.
The engine hummed.
The road ahead stretched long and uncertain.
And between them—
a silence thick with everything they still hadn't said.
Udaipur Bus Stop — Early Evening
The sun dipped low across the sky, turning the bus depot gold. Vendors shouted half-heartedly, chai steam curled into the air, and the quiet hum of travelers filled the space. Among them, Khushi moved with hurried steps, clutching a worn suitcase to her chest as if it were the only anchor she had left.
Her breath shook as she approached the counter.
"One ticket to Mumbai… please," she whispered.
The clerk barely glanced up, tore a slip from his pad, and pushed the ticket toward her. "Bus leaves in five minutes."
Khushi nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. She snatched the ticket and made her way toward the waiting bus.
Her steps were fast—too fast—like someone being chased by a shadow only she could see.
She climbed inside, finding an empty window seat and sinking into it. The moment she sat, she hugged her suitcase close, the edges pressing into her palms. She stared out the window, watching the crowd blur as the fear in her chest slowly loosened.
When the bus engine rumbled to life, she finally allowed herself a long exhale.
"I hope… Mumbai will let me start over," she murmured.
Her fingers reached instinctively for the small pendant around her neck. A simple piece of silver, dull around the edges, but precious—too precious to ever remove. She held it tightly, her eyes softening with a strange mixture of longing and dread.
"I hope… you'll give me answers," she whispered to the pendant.
"To everything I don't remember… and everything I can't forget."
Outside, the last rays of sunlight brushed her face through the dusty glass.
Inside, her heartbeat echoed with secrets she didn't yet know she carried.
The bus pulled away from Udaipur, leaving behind dust, danger, and a past that still refused to die.
Ahead of her…
Mumbai waited.
And with it—
the destiny she had been running from.
To be continued...