The subway lights were almost too bright, washing over the crowd that flowed in and out like a busy market. Clearly, Rohit wasn't the only one who thought of taking a detour around the jammed flyover.
Fortunately for him, Ragini still hadn't let go of his hand since earlier, and in the press of people, no one paid any attention. He liked her warmth, especially how she matched her pace with his without complaint.
But just before they entered the subway, Rohit felt conflicted. The walls around the entrance were stained with spat tobacco and smeared garbage.
The only reason the inside looked clean and presentable was the CCTV cameras glaring from every corner and the strict fines posted for littering if caught.
Rohit smirked at the thought: What harm would it do to place the cameras outside too? At least that creepy, filthy vibe could've been avoided.
Thanks to Ragini, who always kept two passes handy for herself and her bodyguard, they managed to skip the long queue at the ticket counter. After a quick security check, they stepped onto the platform.
Another kind of circus unfolded there. A young reporter stood with her cameraman, recording interviews. A group of girls giggled while filming reels, while most others—likely office workers—looked exhausted but still glued to their phone screens, either on calls or scrolling endlessly.
The moment Ragini spotted the reporters, she quickly pulled her hand away, and Rohit cursed his luck. Still, it was inevitable. He waited with her by the side for their train.
From the chatter around, Rohit pieced together that this was the only train before the subway would close. That explained why the crowd was so thick.
He leaned toward Ragini and asked softly, "Are you uncomfortable?"
Ragini looked at him. "No. Why should I be? Aren't you here to protect me?"
Rohit grinned and gave a mock salute with his fist over his chest. "Always, my lady. This knight is at your service till his last breath."
She rolled her eyes, shoving his face with her palm. "Stop it. What nonsense are you watching these days?"
Before Rohit could reply, a commotion broke out. Both of them turned toward the source. A young man, maybe in his mid thirties, had collapsed on the line. From his appearance—bag slung over his back, shirt soaked in sweat—he seemed to be an exhausted office worker.
Ragini frowned. "Why is no one helping him?"
To their surprise, everyone nearby was busy recording videos. Even the reporter had her camera fixed, narrating loudly, "Breaking news! A man down in the metro—will he make it out? All exclusive in EBP news."
Rohit found it bizarre. If this were Japan, even an ex-yakuja would stop by to lend a hand. Isn't that supposed to be basic human courtesy? Then he recalled his past self's memories. Of course, this was India. People preferred to watch from the sidelines, waiting for someone else to act first.
Fortunately, a brave old man, well into his sixties, stepped down. Struggling for breath, he tried to lift the fallen man, but his frail body couldn't manage. After two failed attempts, he was trembling and gasping, finally pleading, "Someone help me. I can't do this alone."
Rohit felt a wave of disgust at the onlookers. All of them still filming, waiting for someone else to act. 'No wonder', he thought bitterly, 'Indians are openly mocked on social media as spineless cowards. Sure they can only click and type.'
Before he could move, Ragini's firm voice cut through the noise: "Rohit, go help."
He didn't hesitate. With a nod, he jumped in and ran to assist. The man was heavier than he looked, obese even, and Rohit cursed under his breath about people neglecting their health. With the old man's effort and his own, they finally got the unconscious man onto the platform.
Relief barely touched Rohit when his eyes caught the glint of headlights far down the tunnel. The rumble of the train began to vibrate through the tracks.
The old man wiped his brow and said, "Go up first, young man. This nation needs you. I… I'll manage somehow."
The crowd began shouting at Rohit to climb up. Ragini was desperately reaching her hand toward him, her voice lost in the chorus of others calling for him to save himself. A few even extended their hands, urging him to jump up. Rohit had to decide quickly.
Rohit looked at the old man, stubbornly clinging on. Then, without hesitation, he shoved him upward with all his strength. "Care for yourself first, gramps!"
The old man gasped, startled, as helping hands pulled him up. The crowd erupted in shock. Rohit stayed below, pushing until the man was safely over the edge.
The horn blared. The tunnel shook. The train was coming in full speed.
With a surge of adrenaline, Rohit leapt, fingers clutching the edge, hauling himself up and rolling just as the train thundered past, missing him by inch.
Ragini rushed to him, horror in her eyes, and scolded, "How careless of you, Rohit! Your own life should come first!"
The crowd erupted into applause, the reporter cheering as her camera captured the moment. The train slowed and rumbled in the background.
The reporter rushed over. "Madam, your son just performed a heroic act! What do you have to say?"
Ragini shoved the camera aside and turned toward the gates. "No comment. No cameras."
But the reporter chased after her. "Please, ma'am! The nation wants to know, everyone is watching—"
Ragini turned sharply, her voice laced with pain. "That's the problem. Everyone was 'only watching.' If not for that old man, and my son who had to risk his life, this man might have died right here. I'm just grateful his family wasn't here to see it, or they would have lost faith in humanity altogether."
Just two lines and heavy silence fell over. People lowered their phones in shame. Even the reporter bit her lip, embarrassed, until her cameraman gently pulled her back, signaling her to stop.
The train halted and the automatic doors slid open. But no one rushed in. Out of respect, they waited for Ragini and Rohit to step inside first.
Ragini walked in quietly. Rohit, before following, gave a thumbs-up to the cameraman and motioned for him to take care of the fallen man. The man nodded back.
As the others began to board, Rohit finally found himself standing with Ragini in a corner. The old man and cameraman were still tending to the unconscious man.
Just then, Ragini pinched his arm. He looked at her, only to see her pouting in frustration, clearly unhappy with him risking his life.
Rohit sighed, knowing that unless she cooled down by the time they reached home, he'd be facing another round of scolding.
For now, though, he allowed himself a small smile. 'At least today, humanity wasn't entirely dead.'
Kasim's POV
From a distance, Kasim's jaw tightened. This wasn't how it was supposed to unfold. He had shadowed the woman with the thought of savoring her for himself, only to discover that the person she was acquainted with was her son.
What unsettled him most wasn't the relationship, but the boy's guts.
The brat he had dismissed as a mere kid turned out to have balls of steel.
In a moment of crisis, when everyone else hesitated to act first, he stepped into the spotlight and rescued both the unconscious man and the old man in front of dozens of witnesses.
The worst part was that the cameras had caught it all. By now, his act of bravery was already racing through news feeds, and he would soon become a new face for the crowd to cheer.
That changed everything. If word spread about the boy or her mom being disappeared, authorities would scour every street. His plan had grown ten times riskier.
But Kasim's lust drowned out caution. He knew the window was closing. The woman would not be left unguarded again after today. It was now or never.
The boy? He scoffed inwardly. A teenager with more courage than sense. He might have fooled the crowd, but against Kasim's men he was nothing more than a nuisance.
With a grin that showed his yellow teeth, Kasim lifted a hand and gave a subtle signal. His men nodded. Together, they slipped onto the last crowded train, their eyes fixed on the corner where Ragini and Rohit stood.
The hunt had only just begun.