The lead goon's hand was a vise around Khushi's wrist, pulling her toward the idling black sedan. "Let me go!" she shouted, her voice sharp with a fear she hadn't felt in months.
Kiaan, tears of fright and fury streaking through the colors on his face, pummeled the man's leg with his small fists. "Leave her! Leave Angel Aunty alone!"
"Kiaan, run! Go get your Papa! RUN!" Khushi screamed, her eyes wide with terror for him.
But Kiaan didn't run. His gaze darted around, landing on a small, discarded wooden log from a nearby tree pruning. He snatched it up and, with a cry of pure defiance, swung it hard against the goon's shin.
"Argh! You little brat!" the man snarled, more in surprise than pain. He turned and shoved Kiaan away with brutal force. The boy landed hard on the gravel, the wind knocked out of him.
"KIAAN!" Khushi's cry was raw. A surge of protective fury lent her strength. She twisted her arm, broke free from the stunned grip, and stepped between the fallen boy and the goon. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH A CHILD!" she roared, and with all her might, she slapped the man across the face—a sharp, cracking sound that echoed in the quiet lane.
The goon's face contorted with rage. He nodded to his companion. "Enough of this."
Before Khushi could react further, the second man stepped forward, a stained cloth clamped in his hand. He pressed it over her nose and mouth. A sickly-sweet chemical smell filled her senses. Her eyes, wide with shock and locked on Kiaan's terrified face, fluttered once, twice, before going blank. Her body went limp.
"Aunty…?" Kiaan whispered, scrambling to his knees.
The men hauled Khushi's unconscious form into the back of the car. Tires screeched against the asphalt as the vehicle sped away, vanishing around the bend.
For a moment, there was only silence and the smell of chloroform and dust. Then, a heartbroken, gasping sob tore from Kiaan's throat. He pushed himself up and ran—faster than he ever had—back through the gate, through the side garden, and into the pulsing heart of the celebration.
He found his father near the DJ setup, his expression still relaxed from the dance. The music was deafening. "PAPA!" Kiaan screamed, tugging on Yuvaan's stained kurta.
Yuvaan, seeing the sheer panic on his son's tear-and-color-streaked face, immediately held up a hand to the DJ. "Turn it off! Now!"
The music cut abruptly, leaving a ringing silence. Everyone turned.
"Papa, some bad men! They took Khushi Aunty! They put a cloth on her face and she fell down and they took her in a car!" The words tumbled out in a hysterical rush.
A cold shockwave went through the gathered family. Yuvaan dropped to one knee, gripping his son's shoulders. "What? Where? When?"
Between sobs, Kiaan narrated the horrifying events—the men, the fight, the log, the shove, Khushi's slap, and the final, terrifying abduction.
"Please, Papa, you have to save her! You have to!" Kiaan pleaded, clutching his father's shirt.
Rani stepped forward, her voice cool and practical amidst the panic. "Yuvaan, think. Why would you risk your life for a stranger? We don't know who those men were, what they're capable of."
Meera nodded vigorously. "She's no one to us. A passing music teacher. It's a police matter, not ours."
Yuvaan's head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "She is not 'no one'," he stated, his voice low and dangerous. "She is Kiaan's friend. She is the reason my son had a birthday he will actually remember with joy. That makes her someone to me."
Kiaan, still trembling, added a crucial piece, his voice small but clear. "And… and she saved me. Weeks ago. The night I tried to run away. A truck was coming… she pulled me back. She saved me then, and she tried to save me from those men today. They pushed me, and she hit them for it."
This new revelation sent a fresh jolt through Bhoomi and Susheela. Bhoomi pressed her hands together. "She saved our grandson's life. We cannot abandon her now. We must help."
"We must," Susheela echoed, Vinod nodding grimly beside her.
Aakash ran a hand through his hair, the party spirit utterly gone. "Bhai, I want to help too, but how? We have no idea where they've taken her. We can't just scour the city."
Yuvaan rose to his full height. The playful, colored man from the dance floor was gone. In his place stood someone older, sterner, with an aura of grim resolve. He looked at the terrified hope in his son's eyes, at the determined worry on his mother's and mother-in-law's faces.
"If we cannot find her the human way," Yuvaan said, his voice dropping into a register that seemed to make the very air grow still, "then we do it the supernatural way."
He turned his gaze toward the mansion, his eyes hardening with a purpose they hadn't held in years.
"Reeva tracking."
To be continued...