Shorted !!

The warm rays of morning filtered gently through the pale curtains, kissing the marble floor of the bedroom. The cherry blossom tree outside swayed lightly in the wind, scattering soft pink petals across the balcony ledge.

Inside, the air was heavy—not with fear—but with unspoken prayers.

Aagartha lay unconscious on the bed, a soft white bandage still around her wrist. Her breaths were shallow but steady. Her hair fell across her face like strands of forgotten silk. Her pale skin had begun to regain its color, but the bruises near her temple whispered of what she had been through.

Near the edge of the bed sat an elderly woman, her eyes red with sleeplessness.

"Bitiya…" she murmured, gently brushing Aagartha's hair from her forehead.

"Child…"

It was her housemaid, Renu Mausi. Not just a servant—but a part of Aagartha's soul. The woman who had held her when she first fell sick as a child. Who had fed her rice with her hands when her parents forgot their promises.

Renu had been crying the whole night. The moment the mysterious black-suited man dropped Aagartha home with a doctor's handwritten note, she had known—something was terribly wrong.

And now, after all those whispered prayers to every god she knew, the girl moved.

A small shift.

A flicker of fingers.

Then a breath… sharper.

And finally—her eyes.

Aagartha's lashes fluttered, and slowly, her lids opened.

The ceiling fan above looked unfamiliar. Her breath quickened.

"Bitiya! Bitiya! Thank the gods! You're awake!"

"Child! Thank the gods you're awake!"

Renu cried, throwing herself onto the bed, holding her hands like they were made of porcelain.

Aagartha blinked.

Her throat was dry. "...Where…?"

"You're at home! In your own room! Oh my child, you scared the life out of me—!"

The maid broke into sobs.

Aagartha looked around. She didn't remember how she got there. Only flashes—wet stone floors, a masked man, being grabbed, a voice she never saw but somehow… trusted.

Her fingers instinctively touched her wrist. The bandage. The ache.

Her eyes turned distant.

"Did someone… bring me here?" she asked softly.

Renu nodded, wiping her tears.

"Yes, one of those well-dressed men. Very quiet. He just placed you on the bed and left before I could ask anything. He looked… powerful."

Aagartha's breath caught. A faint image flickered behind her eyes. A man. His chest. The warmth.

She had fallen asleep... on someone's chest.

But who?

Before she could chase that thought further, a phone buzzed on the side table.

It was Atharva.

She answered with a whisper. "Hello?"

"Aagartha?" His voice was breathless with relief. "Thank god! I've been calling all night. Are you alright?"

She swallowed. "I… I think so. Just very tired."

"You were kidnapped, Agartha. You saved my brother's life. And then vanished. I thought…"

There was a pause.

She whispered, "I'm here."

"I'll come by soon. But listen—someone else wants to see you. I'll explain."

---

Scene Shift: The Recovery Room – Private Care Unit

The lighting was soft, the walls a calming blue-gray. Machines beeped slowly, rhythmically. Monitors traced life back into a body once slipping away.

Uttaraayan Shrivastava lay on the bed, dressed in a crisp hospital gown. Tubes trailed into his hand, and a soft gauze padded one side of his shoulder. His chest rose and fell—slow, steady, healing.

A heavy sigh broke the silence.

Nayan stood just outside the glass wall of the care unit, arms folded, his jaw tight.

He watched his younger brother, eyes clouded with guilt and relief.

Sahil stepped beside him. "He's stable now. The bullet didn't hit anything vital. Dr. Aagartha's emergency aid probably saved his life before we arrived."

Nayan closed his eyes. "Of course she did."

"She's... special," Sahil added quietly.

Nayan didn't reply.

A moment later, a nurse stepped out from the room. "He's awake. Weak, but responsive. You can go in."

Without a word, Nayan walked in.

The moment their eyes met, something invisible cracked in the air. That silent language only brothers knew.

Uttar's hand barely lifted—but he curled his index and middle fingers together and placed it on his forehead, offering a shaky salute.

Nayan, choking on unsaid words, returned the gesture in silence.

"You look like shit," Uttar croaked.

"You look worse," Nayan smiled, voice hoarse.

"You saved me?"

"No," Nayan whispered. "She did."

Uttar smiled faintly. "That girl…"

Nayan looked down. "I owe her."

"No. We do."

Silence hung between them. Then, with effort, Uttar asked:

"Why didn't you come before, bhai?"

"Brother, why didn't you come before?"

Nayan clenched his fists.

"Because I thought... by staying away, I could keep you safe."

"Didn't work, huh?" Uttar tried to laugh, but winced.

Nayan moved closer, placed a hand on his forehead gently.

"From now on, you stay where I can see you. And you never walk alone again."

"I wasn't alone. She... stayed."

There was a beat.

Aagartha.

The girl he had sworn not to touch.

Yet, she had held everything he loved.

Nayan leaned in, brushed back the stray hair on his brother's forehead.

"Sleep, little wolf. I'll take care of everything now."

Back at her quiet house near the old city, Aagartha had taken a bath and dressed in fresh clothes. Reenu Mausi brought her a cup of ginger tea and some light food, but she could hardly eat. Her heart was heavy with unanswered questions. The name of the boy, the identity of the people who saved her, the reason she was targeted—none of it made sense.

But amidst the chaos, there was a strange comfort. A presence. Someone who had held her.

She remembered a heartbeat. A steady rhythm against her ear as she lay unconscious. A warmth that wasn't just physical—it was protection. It was...

Peace.

Who was it?

And why did it feel like she had known that presence forever?

She stood near the window, looking outside. Her gaze fell on the two cherry blossom trees standing tall near her front boundary. Their petals danced in the morning wind. Just beyond the boundary wall, an old, abandoned bungalow stood, silent and haunting.

Something about it felt odd. As if it too was watching her.

She looked away and sipped her tea, her lips pressing tightly around the rim.

The day had only begun, but deep inside, Aagartha knew—everything had changed.

And the answers she was seeking were closer than she imagined.