Chapter 30
Abhinav paced.
Ten steps east. Turn. Ten steps west. Turn.
His shoes struck the stone in sharp, controlled beats. His phone stayed in his hand.
Call. Answer. Disconnect. Repeat.
“Updates on the city center search?”
“Nothing yet, sir.”
“The temple district?”
“Teams are checking every lane.”
“The bus station?”
“Covered.”
Each answer tightened the invisible wire pulling at his chest.
Three hours now.
Three hours since anyone had seen Meera.
Her absence had begun to feel physical. Filling corridors. Settling into corners. Pressing against every wall of Anand Mahal.
His phone rang again. He answered before the first ring ended.
“Hello.”
His voice remained controlled. The same voice that negotiated contracts and dismantled opposition across boardrooms. Nothing like the voice in his head screaming her name.
Rajveer’s contact had nothing new.
Taxi drivers across Jaipur had been questioned. No one remembered a woman in yellow. Hospitals reported no admission that matched her.
At the word hospitals, his jaw locked harder.
“Expand the radius. Check beyond the old city.”
Another turn. Another call.
Four hours now.
The sky moved from gold to amber. Lamps came alive across the Haveli, one after another, their light stretching shadows across stone.
No one left the courtyard.
Devendra stood near the archway, issuing instructions into his phone. Fewer now. Slower.
Gauri sat near the temple, beads moving through her fingers without pause.
Naina stayed on the steps, drawn into herself in a way he had never seen.
Sarita moved between them, keeping them together through sheer will.
Abhinav kept pacing. The count changed. Ten steps became eight. Eight became six. His turns grew sharper. Faster.
His phone never left his grip. If it rang, he answered instantly. If it stayed silent too long, he checked it anyway.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His grip tightened each time.
Five hours now.
The language shifted. From answers to absence disguised as progress.
“We’re still searching.”
“All units deployed.”
“We’ll inform you immediately.”
Abhinav’s expression did not change. Not when the airport confirmed she had not been seen. Not when railway security found nothing. Not when every checkpoint outside Jaipur returned empty.
Her absence grew louder.
Six hours now.
The sky went dark. Stars hung overhead. The lamps burned while he moved through their light.
Six hours without her voice.
Six hours without knowing where she was.
Six hours of his mind building terrible possibilities, then tearing them down before they could take shape.
The businessman inside him continued functioning flawlessly. Calls. Coordination. Control. The man inside was unraveling with each passing minute.
Sarita stepped into his path as he turned again. Her hand closed around his arm and stopped him.
For the first time in hours, he stood in place.
“Beta.” Her voice was soft, meant only for him. “You must keep faith.”
His eyes lifted to hers. For a moment, the control slipped. Fear appeared. Raw and exposed. Gone almost immediately.
“I have people covering every route. We’re checking the entire…”
“Not only in your people.”
His voice cut off.
“In her.” Sarita’s faith did not waver. “In Kuldevi. She is watching over our Meera.” Her fingers tightened slightly around his arm. “She will not abandon the girl who has tended to her so faithfully all these years.”
Kuldevi.
The word hit deep.
It struck a crack that had run through him for months.
It had begun in a house filled with medicine and dying hope. It had widened through nights spent beside his father, through watching a strong man disappear inch by inch while machines kept count of what remained.
It had never closed.
Only buried under work, control and routine.
Until now.
Abhinav stepped back from her.
“Kuldevi,” he repeated.
The word felt harsh.
His eyes lifted toward the temple. Toward the flame behind the glass. Calm. Untouched while everything else fell apart.
His restraint gave away.
“That,” he snapped, voice high enough to chill the entire Haveli, “is a statue. It does nothing.”
His hand cut through the air toward it. Sharp enough that Naina flinched.
“Papa prayed every day.”
Each word struck harder.
“You prayed every day. Naina prayed every day.” His jaw tightened. “And what happened? He died in pain.”
No one moved.
“He suffered for months. Months. While all of you stood in front of that flame asking for mercy.”
His eyes burned now. Dark. Fever-bright.
“And your goddess watched.”
The courtyard shrank around his voice.
“And now Meera…” Her name tore out of him. “My Meera, who has given her life to that place, who talked to that stone as it could hear her, trusted it, who protected every ritual in this Haveli…”
His breath turned uneven.
“She has been missing for six hours. And it sits there doing nothing.”
The words crashed through years of belief carved into those walls.
Naina’s eyes filled at once. Not only for Meera. For her brother. For the grief he had locked inside himself for so long that it had finally torn its way out bleeding.
Sarita moved toward him, hands rising. “Abhinav…”
He turned before she reached him. His fist struck the nearest pillar. The crack rang through the courtyard.
When he pulled back, blood marked the stone.
No one breathed.
Sarita stopped where she was. She understood now. The fear. The exhaustion. The terror of not knowing if the woman he loved lived or lay cold somewhere beyond his reach.
This was not anger anymore. This was her son coming apart.
His phone rang. The sound cut through everything.
He answered immediately, blood streaking across his hand. “Yes.”
The words came through.
Hospital. Unidentified woman. Yellow clothes. He needed to come.
His body betrayed him. A tremor ran through him before he forced it down. He turned toward the temple again. His bloodied hand rose, pointing at the goddess.
“If anything has happened to her…” His voice dropped into a deadly quiet. “I will tear this place down myself.”
The words hung in the air.
“Stone by stone. I will not leave a single lamp burning in this Haveli again.”
He turned and walked out. Anger moved with him.
The gates opened. His car disappeared into the night.
Silence took over Anand Mahal.
The flame continued burning behind the glass as it had through centuries of grief, prayers, and rage.
After a long moment, Sarita turned toward Kuldevi.
She prayed without words.
And the flame burned on.
◆◆◆
Abhinav was inside the car before he fully registered moving.
The door slammed. The engine roared awake. Anand Mahal vanished behind him.
Hospital. Unidentified woman. Yellow clothes.
The words cut through him with brutal clarity.
He drove fast enough for the city to blur at the edges. Not reckless. This was focus pushed to its limit, sharpened by dread.
Every red light felt like an insult. Every slow vehicle in front of him tested his control. He cut through traffic, slipping through impossible gaps, taking corners with a force that made the tires scream against the road.
The speedometer climbed. Still not fast enough.
His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly blood from his split knuckles spread across the leather. He didn’t notice.
Only forward remained. Only the hospital.
From the outside, he still looked composed. Spine straight. Breathing controlled. Face unreadable. The perfect Anand heir managing a crisis.
Inside… Hospital. Yellow clothes. Unidentified woman.
His mind circled the words, refusing to step into the thought waiting beyond them.
The hospital rose ahead in harsh white light.
He pulled into the emergency entrance too fast. The car stopped at an angle across two lines. He was out before the engine died.
Two police officers waited near the sliding doors.
One moved forward with an introduction Abhinav did not register. The other matched his pace as they entered.
“Female. Mid-twenties. Unconscious on arrival. No identification.” The officer kept pace beside him. “Yellow clothes. Build is similar. Facial injuries make confirmation difficult.”
The smell hit him first. Antiseptic. Medicines. Bleach. Hospitals always smelled the same. And looked painfully clean. Clean enough to hide suffering beneath it.
“I apologize for calling you before confirmation…”
A short nod from Abhinav cut him off without a glance.
The officers led him into a room where a woman lay on the bed, motionless, white sheets pulled up, bandages covering most of her face.
He did not look there. His eyes went to her hands. Too small. Wrong fingers. Wrong shape.
Not the hands that traced old carvings in hidden chamber. Not the hands that clutched his shirt when he kissed her. Not the hands that rested against his chest before dawn while the Haveli slept.
His eyes moved over her shoulders. Her frame.
No.
Relief struck so hard it hurt.
“Can you confirm?” came from somewhere near him.
“Not her.”
The words scraped out of him.
The officer turned away at once, voice already on the radio, the search opening again.
Abhinav stepped out before anything else could reach him.
He walked through the corridor, past strangers, through the sliding doors, into the night air.
Cold air hit his face. It did nothing.
He reached the parking area and stopped beside his car. One hand braced against the roof as his head lowered, breath uneven now, the polished black surface throwing back the harsh hospital lights.
He tried, but couldn't hold back.
It tore out of him.
A raw, furious sound, deep and violent, echoing across the empty stretch. His fist slammed against the roof, metal ringing under the force.
Not relief.
Relief meant she was safe. Found. In his arms. This was only the nightmare changing form.
She was still out there. He still could not reach her.
The officer remained a few steps away, close enough, silent enough.
Abhinav closed his eyes.
“Meera.”
Her name left him. No anger now. No control either. Only longing stripped bare.
“Where are you?”