ch3:Darkness within

Chapter 3:

Dinner Time

As the door opens, a foot steps in, followed by a gust of leaves. A shadowy figure enters, and the little angel, seeing who it is, leaps from her seat and rushes toward the figure.Dressed in a sleek, well-fitted black kurta,The Figue comes into light its a Man His face, though resembling Ali's, carries a maturity that years of experience have etched into his features and his eyes are intense—deep brown like Ali's—but with a sharpness. 

"Baba!" she shouts.

The man—Baba—puts down the things in his hands and stretches his arms out in full SRK style, ready for his dramatic embrace. The little angel, seemingly heading for him like an arrow shot from a bow, suddenly veers off-course and runs straight to the things Baba had set down, eyes gleaming.

Baba remains stuck in his SRK pose, arms still outstretched, frozen in space-time.

"Hahahaha!" a laugh breaks the awkward tension as Ali walks over from the dinner table. "How are you, Baba?" he says, hugging him and breaking Baba out of his dramatic trance.

"I'm good, but I never thought my sweet angel would choose something over me," Baba teases, faking a cry and wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

"Get moving, drama queen. Dinner's getting cold," says Eshma, the mother, as she glances at them.

Both father and son freeze as though their souls have momentarily left their bodies, while the little angel is busy exploring the mysterious present.

"Baba, this is the best present you've ever given me!" she exclaims, holding the object—larger than her—above her head as she marches toward the dinner table.

"Chicken qorma! You know I love your cooking, Eshma," Baba says with enthusiasm as he fills his plate.

"Baba, shush! Silence—no talking during dinner," Eshma, now fully in command, says as she shoots a glance at everyone.

Nobody dares to respond. Heads down, everyone quietly focuses on their food. Clearly, Lady Eshma is the ruler of the house—a true desi mom.

After Dinner

The whole family is gathered in the TV lounge, watching a show and chatting about it. The screen flickers with scenes from a popular Western movie, and the family is caught up in a heated discussion about the absurd plot twists.

"I mean, seriously, how does the guy survive getting hit by a truck twice and then just walks into the hospital as if he stubbed his toe?" Ali groans, shaking his head in disbelief.

Baba chuckles, nodding along. "I know, right? And the way his long-lost twin brother just magically showed up at the wedding? That was the cherry on top!"

Eshma, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen, smirks. "You both talk too much. Just watch the show."

As the conversation dies down, Baba suddenly turns to Ali with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of drama, what happened to your face, Beta? Looks like you went to a makeup tutorial and ended up on the wrong side of a makeup brush!"

Ali glares, trying to hide the faint traces of his sister's artistic attack earlier in the day. His sister, sitting next to him, giggles under her breath.

"Let's just say someone decided to turn me into a clown without my consent," Ali mutters, casting a suspicious glance at his sister.

Baba laughs heartily, ruffling Ali's hair. "Ah, it's good to keep a sense of humor about these things. Besides, clowns get all the attention!"

Ali grumbles under his breath, but the room is filled with laughter as they continue watching their overly dramatic soap opera.

Later That Night

After the show ends, everyone starts moving toward their rooms to enjoy the peace. (Author's note: "And it took a dragon warrior two movies to find it.")

Ali, now back in his room, stares at his bed but seems lost in thought. His feet move, almost on their own, guiding him toward the window.

He takes a cautious glance at the door, ensuring no one is watching, and without a moment's hesitation, he leaps straight out of the window.

In a fluid motion, as if practiced a hundred times, he grabs onto a rope that blends perfectly with the wall, sliding down effortlessly.

As his feet hit the ground, Ali checks his watch—it's 11:00 PM. The night is still, except for the occasional rustling of leaves.

Hoodie pulled over his head, Ali marches off into the unknown. His face, now masked by shadows, reflects a seriousness that contrasts his usual carefree demeanor.

In the Alley

After some time, Ali slips into a narrow alley,far from the street barely illuminating his path. He moves under the shadows, until he arrives at a small clearing.

Waiting for him are three men and two women, all seemingly his age, huddled together, exchanging quiet laughs. They greet Ali with knowing smirks.

"You took your time, Romeo," one of the guys teases, nudging him. "What's the matter? Rejection was too much too handle?"

"Shut up, Bilal," Ali snaps back with a half-smile, though the weight of something more serious lingers in his tone.

One of the girls, her arms crossed, speaks up. "Enough jokes, boys. You know what's coming. Tonight isn't just about messing around."

"Yeah," another guy, tall and muscular, cracks his knuckles. "This isn't a game. We all know what's about to go down."

Ali pulls his hood lower, his eyes narrowing. "We stick to the plan. No mistakes this time."

The group exchanges looks, tension rising as the weight of the upcoming event settles over them. A fight is on the horizon, and from the way they're talking, it's clear this isn't the first time they've been through something like this.

Ali clenches his fists. "Let's do this."

To be continue.....