Episode 69 — Whispers Behind Sanctuary
They left the train yard as the city stirred awake — horns calling across wet streets, the river shining dull silver under a rising sun.
Saira drove, hands tight on the wheel, jaw clenched around words she wasn't ready to speak. Beside her, Aria tended Raian's wounds: trembling fingers pressing cloth to fresh cuts, her breath catching every time he winced.
Beyond the glass, Kolkata blurred past — crumbling temples, crowded alleys, the lives they no longer belonged to.
---
At last, the city thinned into open road, rice fields and broken shrines watching silently from either side.
They reached an old plantation house, half-swallowed by banyan roots and moss. Time and ruin had gentled its sharp edges; ivy curled around cracked columns like forgiving hands.
"We used this place years ago," Saira murmured, voice rough. "Nobody comes here now."
Raian swayed as he stepped from the car, pain flashing across his face. Aria slipped under his arm, steadying him. "Easy," she breathed.
His weight settled against her, heavy and warm despite the cold sweat clinging to his skin. "I'm fine," he rasped, though his voice betrayed him.
"You're terrible at lying," she whispered, guiding him inside.
---
The foyer smelled of damp stone and old memories. Dust lay thick on broken tiles, and the wind whispered through shattered windows.
They settled in a room where dawn light streamed through cracked shutters. Aria cleaned Raian's wound, fingers gentle but firm. Blood stained the cloth red — but he didn't flinch from her touch.
Saira watched, arms folded, shadows in her gaze. "We can rest here," she murmured. "A day, maybe two. Then we keep moving."
Raian's eyes met hers, grey shadowed by exhaustion. "Thank you," he rasped.
Saira's jaw tightened. "Don't thank me yet."
---
Night fell slow and heavy. Somewhere beyond the fields, crickets sang, and a stray dog barked at passing ghosts.
Raian sat on the cracked steps of the veranda, the air cool against sweat-damp skin. Aria joined him, wrapping a threadbare shawl around her shoulders.
"For now," she whispered, "we're safe."
His gaze traced the horizon, as if searching for something he'd lost long ago. "Safety," he murmured. "Feels strange."
She touched his hand — scarred knuckles, calloused palm. "Strange doesn't mean impossible," she breathed.
He closed his fingers around hers, a slow, fragile gesture. "Maybe," he rasped, "you make it possible."
Later, as moonlight painted the ruin silver, Saira stood alone at the broken fence, phone cold and heavy in her hand.
A name glowed on the screen — Ishaan.
For a breath, guilt tightened around her ribs. Then she tapped a single message:
"They're here. For now."
Her thumb hovered over "Send."
---
Raian's voice echoed in memory — young, hopeful, foolish: "We'll never become them, Saira. We'll protect each other."
And Malik's colder promise: "Hope is the first chain, girl. Break it, or it breaks you."
Saira's breath shook. The message sent.
---
---
Inside, Raian stirred in restless sleep — dreams knotting scars and shadows together.
Aria lay beside him, fingers tracing the rise and fall of his breath. "Stay," she whispered into the dark, words trembling. "Don't leave me alone in this."
His eyes opened, dawn-grey even in moonlight. "I won't," he rasped, voice ragged. "Not by choice."
---
Beyond crumbling walls, headlights flickered between banyan trunks — then vanished.
Aria didn't see. Raian didn't see.
But Saira saw. And her breath caught in the cold night air.
---
Teaser for Episode 70:
A betrayal blooms in moonlight — and as enemies close in, Raian must decide if family forged in blood is worth dying for… or worth leaving behind.