Pratap Singh Villa — Moments Later
Yuvaan practically flew down the stairs, his breathing uneven, panic thick in his throat.
"KIAAN!" he shouted again, louder this time, voice breaking at the edges.
Bhoomi and Susheela, who had been in the living room folding clothes, jerked upright at the tone of fear. Vinod, reading the newspaper, lowered it immediately. Aakash rushed from the study.
They all gathered as Yuvaan reached the bottom of the stairs, eyes wild.
Mom clutched her chest. "Yuvaan? What happened? Why are you shouting like this?"
Yuvaan's voice trembled, the words stumbling out.
"Kiaan— he's not in his room. He's gone. The window wasn't open, but— he's not there. I checked everywhere. He's… missing."
Silence fell like a stone.
Bhoomi's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh God…"
Susheela's eyes filled instantly. "At this hour? Alone?"
Aakash stepped closer, steady but clearly shaken. "Did he leave a note? Anything? Check the garden. Check the backyard—"
Vinod rose, voice firm despite the fear in his eyes. "We'll search every corner. He must be somewhere nearby—"
But Meera, standing by the stairs equally shocked, let her expression slip into irritation rather than worry. She muttered under her breath, loud enough to be heard:
"This child always brings trouble… what a pain in the neck. Why must everything be a drama with him?"
Bhoomi snapped her gaze to Meera, anger flashing in her eyes—but Yuvaan didn't even turn. He was already heading for the door, grabbing his keys with shaking hands.
His voice cracked as he spoke, desperate.
"I'm going to look for him. I don't care how far he's gone— I'll search every road if I have to."
Aakash followed him quickly. "I'll come with you. We'll check the CCTV at the gate first."
Susheela's voice wavered, hands trembling. "Please bring him back safe… he's just a child…"
Bhoomi's eyes glistened, whispering a prayer under her breath.
Meera watched quietly—expression unreadable—while somewhere upstairs, Rani smiled faintly in the shadows, knowing exactly where the child truly was.
Unaware of the danger, they split directions in panic.
Yuvaan burst out of the main door, shouting into the night:
"KIAAN!!
Daddy's coming—just answer me!"
His voice echoed into the darkness.
Kiaan, far away already, kept running… and the truck drew closer.
Street — Midnight Wind, Headlights Blurring
Kiaan's tiny shoes slapped the asphalt, breath breaking in panicked puffs.
Behind him, the hypnotized truck charged forward, horn blaring, engine roaring like a beast.
His bracelet burned against his skin, choking the spark of power inside him.
"Please… please stop…" he whimpered, legs aching, tears streaking sideways with the wind.
The truck headlights swallowed his shadow whole.
And that's when he saw it — a bus parked ahead, mechanics working underneath, lights flickering dimly. A familiar warmth tugged inside him, a memory he never owned but his heart recognized.
He gasped, voice cracking into the night.
"Mummaaa!"
He stepped onto the road—
A sudden grip yanked him backward, strong yet gentle, saving him with seconds to spare.
The truck whooshed past them, missing by inches.
Kiaan stumbled into the arms of a woman — tall, slim, wrapped in travel clothes. Her nose and mouth were covered by a veil scarf tightly, hiding her identity from anyone who might cross paths.
Her heartbeat raced against his ear.
His tiny fingers clutched her shirt like life itself.
Khushi.
She crouched to his height, keeping her face half-turned, eyes wide with shock, relief, something unexplainably familiar.
"Hey, hey… easy," she whispered, voice soft but trembling. "Are you hurt?"
Kiaan shook his head rapidly, then—like instinct—threw his arms around her waist and buried his face there, shaking.
"I-I was scared…"
Her hand hesitated… then slowly rested on his hair, calming him.
She didn't know why the touch felt right.
He didn't know why the hug felt like home.
She held him tighter anyway.
Far behind them, Rani stood in the dark, eyes glowing green with fury as she watched from above, realization dawning — the child survived.
And unexpectedly… he was no longer alone.
Here is your continuation in slow-burn, novel tone, keeping the emotions subtle and childlike.
---
Khushi guided Kiaan to a nearby bench beneath a dim streetlamp.
The night air was cold, and his small body trembled—fear, shock, exhaustion tangled together.
She knelt down to his level.
"Sit… breathe slowly," she murmured, brushing dust off his sleeves carefully, almost mother-like without realizing.
Kiaan nodded weakly and sat, legs dangling over the edge, still clutching his backpack like a shield. His breaths came uneven, tiny chest rising and falling too fast."My phone it fell"
Khushi stood and scanned the street where the truck had passed.
No phone.
Just scattered gravel and fading tire marks.
She walked around searching—under the sidewalk, near the gutter, behind the bus wheels. Nothing.
A sigh escaped her. She returned to the boy.
"I looked everywhere," she said gently, placing a cold bottle of water into his small hands.
"Drink. Slowly. It'll help."
Kiaan unscrewed the cap with shaky fingers and took a few sips. The water steadied him, but his eyes were still damp.
Khushi sat beside him—leaving space, not crowding.
"Your phone… it must've fallen when you ran. I'm sorry, sweetheart."
He stared down at the bottle, voice barely above a whisper.
"…It had something important in it."
Something he needed. Proof. A lifeline.
Khushi watched him for a moment—the silence said more than words.
Then, softly:
"What are you doing out here at this hour? It's late. Too late for you to be alone."
Her tone wasn't accusing—just worried.
Kiaan's fingers tightened around the bottle cap. His lips pressed together.
"I… can't tell."
It wasn't stubbornness. It was fear. Secrets too heavy for a nine-year-old.
Khushi didn't push.
She only looked at him with the kind of understanding that comes from wounds of her own.
Kids who run away don't do it for fun.
They do it when home stops feeling safe.
"You didn't want to be there, did you?" she asked quietly.
Kiaan didn't answer.
But his eyes filled—just a little—and he shook his head.
Khushi's heart dropped.
She adjusted her scarf, swallowing emotion she didn't expect tonight.
Who was this child? What drove him into the dark streets?
She didn't know.
But she knew one thing clearly now—
He had run away.
And destiny had placed him in her path.
To be continued…