Chapter:-1 “The Night That Still Hurts”
Shimla – 2010
The rain had been falling since afternoon, but by evening, the sky had turned darker than usual — heavy clouds pressing down on the hills like they wanted to swallow the town whole.
The streets glistened under the pale yellow light of old streetlamps. People hurried along, heads bowed, holding onto umbrellas or scraps of newspaper to shield themselves. The air smelled of wet mud and roasted corn from a street vendor who was packing up for the night.
By the roadside, a few beggars huddled together on the damp pavement, shivering under thin blankets. They reached out to passers-by, their voices barely audible over the sound of rain:
“Madam… kuch khane ko de do…”
Through the blur of falling rain, she appeared.
A girl — barely five feet tall — walking with unsteady steps. She was wearing jeans and a simple top, a side bag clinging to her hip. In one hand, she clutched a half-empty beer bottle, the liquid sloshing with every step.
Her hair stuck to her face, and her eyes… her eyes were red, heavy, and shimmering with tears that she couldn’t seem to hold back. She walked as if her body was moving forward but her mind was somewhere far behind.
A small boy stepped into her path. His clothes were soaked, his lips pale from the cold.
“Didi… I’m hungry. Can you give me something to eat?” he asked in a trembling voice, walking beside her with hope in his eyes.
She stopped. For a moment, it seemed she might reach for her bag. But instead, something inside her broke.
“Just… go away. Don’t disturb me. Go to hell!” Her voice cracked, and with it, two warm tears slid down her cold cheeks.
The boy’s face stiffened in fear. He stepped back, then turned and ran down the street, his small figure swallowed by the rain.
The sky rumbled again, this time louder, and the rain thickened into a downpour. Within minutes, she was drenched. She kept walking until her legs felt heavy, then stopped in the middle of the empty road.
Her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the black sky above. The water from the clouds mingled with the tears from her eyes, and she cried — not the kind of quiet sob you can hide, but a deep, shattering cry that makes your chest hurt. The sound disappeared into the roar of the rain, but her heart… her heart knew it would remember this night forever.
One year later – Delhi
The phone’s shrill ringtone cut through the quiet of a messy bedroom.
Lying on her stomach, tangled in her bedsheet, Aayat reached out blindly for the phone and tapped the speaker button.
“Hello…” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Aayat! Where are you? It’s already eleven a.m.! We had a meeting with the investors today and you’re still in bed?” Suraj’s irritated voice filled the room.
Her eyes shot open. She glanced at the wall clock and sat up quickly.
“Oh no! Suraj, I’m so sorry. I didn’t sleep until three a.m., and I completely forgot. Just give me a little time — I’ll meet you at Saket Metro Station,” she said, running a hand through her messy hair.
“Fine. Get ready fast. I’ll be waiting,” he replied before hanging up.
She sighed, muttering to herself, “Why do you keep doing this, Aayat? Why can’t you just sleep early for once?”
The door creaked open and her elder sister, Bazi, leaned against the frame with a smirk.
“Oh, so Madam is up early today?”
“Bazi, please… don’t start. I’m already late. I have to meet an investor,” Aayat said, getting off the bed and searching for her towel.
“Go get ready. I’ll make you some tea,” Bazi offered.
“Thanks. By the way, where’s Simran?” Aayat asked.
“She went out with Rahul. She’ll be back by evening.”
“I told her to wake me up early…” Aayat grumbled.
“She tried. But when you sleep, it’s not sleep — it’s a coma,” Bazi teased, earning a glare from her sister.
“Very funny,” Aayat muttered and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
She turned on the shower. The cold water poured over her head, soaking her hair and running down her face. She closed her eyes, letting the sound of water fill the silence. But with the darkness came the memories she had buried — that rainy night in Shimla… the boy’s small, pleading face… the way she had yelled at him… and the way her own heart had cracked that night.
She opened her eyes suddenly. The water from the shower mixed with the few stubborn tears that had escaped. Turning off the tap, she stepped back slowly. Her chest felt heavy again — like the rain had found its way inside her.
Some nights… never leave you.
