The wind whipped across the rooftop, tugging at Kiaan's small frame. His stomach lurched as Mr. Joshi's hands gripped him tightly and lifted him off the ground. Kiaan's eyes widened in panic.
"Let… go! Please! Let me go!" he shouted, tiny fists pounding against the teacher's chest.
Something unnatural shimmered in Mr. Joshi's eyes—green, flickering like molten emerald. Kiaan froze for a heartbeat, his small mind racing. His instincts screamed the truth before he even fully understood it.
"It's… it's Rani!" he whispered, teeth clenched. "Mumma! Muuummaaa!"
The rooftop seemed to stretch and spin around him. He dangled helplessly, legs kicking, trying to find a foothold. Fear shot through him like electricity. "I… I can't… I can't!"
---
Far below, back at the villa, a quiet shimmer caught Bhoomi's attention.
The diya in front of Kiara's garlanded photo flickered softly, casting a delicate golden light across the room. And then, almost imperceptibly, it grew brighter, the glow pulsing in rhythm with a silent heartbeat—like it sensed her son calling out for help.
Bhoomi blinked, awe and worry mixing across her face. "Something… something is happening," she whispered, voice trembling, fingers clutching the edge of the table.
---
Meanwhile, in the interview hall a few streets away, Khushi sat on the small wooden chair, guitar resting on her lap. The principal and a few other staff watched her, intrigued.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the faint smell of polished wood and morning sunlight spilling through the windows, and let her fingers rest lightly on the strings. Then she began to play, her voice lifting gently, soulful and pure, carrying every hidden hope and emotion within her.
Then she began.
Aashiyaana mera saath tere hai na
Dhoondte teri gali mujhko ghar mila
Aab-o-daana mera haath tere hai na
Dhoondte tera Khuda mujhko Rab mila
Tu jo mila lo ho gaya main qaabil
Tu jo mila to ho gaya sab haasil haan!
Mushqil sahi aasaan hui manzil
Kyunki Tu.. Dhad.kan.. Main Dil…
Her voice was soft at first, then grew stronger, soulful, wrapping the room like a warm wind. Every note trembled with hope, longing, and an unseen magic that seemed to pierce the air itself.
Rooth jaana tera
Maan jaana mera
Dhoondhte teri hansi
Mill gayi khushi
Raah hoon main teri
Rooh hai tu meri
Dhoondhte tere nishaan
Mill gayi khudi
Tu jo mila lo ho gaya main qaabil
Tu jo mila to ho gaya sab haasil haan!
Mushqil sahi aasaan hui manzil
Kyunki Tu.. Dhadkan.. Main Dil…
O…
Tu jo mila lo ho gaya main qaabil
Tu jo mila to ho gaya sab haasil.. haan!
Tu jo mila aasaan hui mushqil
Kyunki Tu Dhadkan.. Main Dil…
The notes rippled outward, invisible yet palpable, carrying a thread of protection, a whisper of maternal love.
---
On the rooftop, Kiaan's small body shuddered as the wind ripped through his hair. The green in Mr. Joshi's eyes flickered violently, then wavered. Kiaan's voice trembled, calling out into the empty air.
"Mumma… please… help me…"
He froze mid-struggle. The music—her voice…—it carried warmth, safety, love. It filled the air around him, brushing against the sharp edge of fear and doubt. A wave of calm washed over him.
Mr. Joshi's hands loosened slightly. Confusion flickered across his face as though a fog lifted, revealing something he hadn't realized. His eyes returned to their natural hue, and his mind snapped back to clarity.
"Kiaan?" His voice shook, not commanding anymore but questioning, uncertain. "I… I… what… what am I doing?"
Kiaan's small body sagged slightly as he hung there, catching his breath. "The… the music… it… it's her… it's Mumma…"
Mr. Joshi, now fully himself, carefully lowered Kiaan to the rooftop floor. "I… I don't know why I—" He trailed off, hands trembling. "I… I'm sorry, Kiaan. I… I don't understand it myself."
Kiaan pressed close to the safety of the rooftop floor, small fists still curled, but he looked at the teacher with wide, trusting eyes. "It's okay… you're okay now," he whispered, voice quivering.
From a distance, hidden in the shadows of the school's outer walls, Rani's eyes burned with fury. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and a subtle tremor ran through her fingers.
"What… what power interfered with my plans?" she hissed under her breath, green veins pulsing faintly along her temple. "How… how did that child survive? How… how did he escape me?"
Her gaze darted toward the rooftop she had been watching earlier, where Kiaan now stood, safe and trembling. Her jaw tightened. "Impossible… nothing should have stopped me."
---
Meanwhile, inside the school hall, Khushi's final chord resonated through the room. The last note hung in the air, pure and lingering, like a thread connecting hearts across distance. She slowly lifted her hands from the guitar, exhaling gently.
A moment of silence, then applause erupted. Warm, genuine, filling the hall. The principal, a stern woman whose expression had softened during Khushi's performance, smiled.
"That was… extraordinary," she said, her voice rich with approval. "Your voice, your expression—it has depth, soul. Please, step outside and wait. We'll call you shortly."
Khushi nodded, bowing slightly. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, her voice calm, yet tinged with nervous excitement. She clutched her guitar case and quietly moved toward the waiting area, her mind still swirling with the echoes of the song.
Outside, the wind picked up briefly, carrying faint remnants of her music across the school grounds—a melody that, unbeknownst to anyone, had already reached the boy it was meant to protec