Chapter Thirty Four.
"Maa... you guys should have told me," Ira groaned, pinning the phone between her cheek and shoulder.
She struggled to slide her bedroom window shut against the onslaught; the rain was lashing down now, driven by a fierce wind.
"We’re sorry, Beta. The rain was just too heavy. The main road is completely blocked by flooding." her mother explained over the static of the storm.
"We’re going to stay the night at Aunt Poorvi’s. We’ll be home tomorrow once the weather settles."
Ira sighed, finally latching the window and collapsing onto her bed. "Okay. You guys stay safe, okay? How is Papa?"
"I’m fine, Beta.." her father’s voice came through the line, "Please be careful, my dear. Make sure all the doors are double-locked, okay?"
Ira smiled softly. "I will, Papa. Goodnight." the line went dead.
She glanced at the clock..8:00 PM.
Suddenly, a violent crack of thunder, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. A second later, the room plunged into total darkness as the power cut out.
"Ugh, great!" Ira groaned into the silence. She got off the bed and stepped out of her room into the hallway.
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Devraj sat on the edge of his bed, he wore only sweatpants, leaving the hard, honed muscles of his chest on display.
The balcony doors were slightly ajar, the curtains moving violently in the wind.
Each flash of lightning illuminated the angles of his face and the amber of his eyes, which had darkened into a deep, obsidian hue.
The image of Ira laughing with Kunal...the way she had leaned into him..looped in his mind repeatedly.
The thunder rumbled again, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to mirror the growl in his own chest.
Slowly, with a pained, stiffness, he reached for a single crutch. He forced himself up, his muscles cording and trembling under the strain.
He looked haunted, his body rigid with a mixture of physical pain and mental obsession.
He didn't head for the balcony. Instead, his gaze fixed on the bedroom door.
He limped out into the long, dark corridor, with every thud of his crutch, the thunder seemed to answer him. He looked possessed, his mind clearly somewhere else..or perhaps, with someone else.
"Ira..." he whispered.
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Mr. and Mrs. Rathore were in the living room, their quiet conversation a stark contrast to the storm raging outside.
Vivaan was heading down the stairs, his thumb scrolling through his phone, when something caught his eye. He stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as he saw the elevator doors slide open and Devraj came out. He was shirtless and no shoes on or whatsoever.
"Bhai?" he called out, his voice laced with confusion.
The name caught the attention of his parents. They turned, their eyes widening as Devraj emerged.
He looked like a different person..his expression was vacant yet intense, his focus entirely removed from the room and the people in it.
"Devraj? Are you okay?" Mrs. Rathore asked, rising instinctively from her seat.
He didn’t answer. He didn't even blink. He simply moved forward, the heavy sound of his single crutch echoing against the floor as he made a beeline for the massive front doors.
Another violent crack of thunder shook the mansion.
Mrs. Rathore exchanged a worried glance with her husband before hurrying after her son.
"Devraj?" she called again, her voice rising with panic. Vivaan followed close behind, his frown deepening, while Mr. Rathore’s face hardened.
"Devraj! Answer me, what is wrong?" his mother pleaded, reaching for his arm as she followed him toward the entrance.
His entire world had narrowed down to that door. When he reached it, he opened with a forceful shove of his hand. The latch groaned under the pressure as the door swung wide, revealing the chaos outside.
Suddenly, a massive bolt of lightning tore across the sky, its electric glow reflecting off Devraj’s skin and the hollows of his face.
Mrs. Rathore gasped at the cold spray hitting them. "What... what are you doing? It’s a torrential downpour out there!" she cried, shielding her eyes.
Mr. Rathore and Vivaan stepped up behind her, staring at Devraj’s back as he stood on the threshold, staring into the heavy rain.
"She will care about me too... right?" he whispered into the roaring rain. The words were so soft, so desperate, that his mother’s heart skipped a beat in pure confusion.
"Huh? Devraj, who are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling. The wind swept in, bringing a biting chill that made everyone shiver.
"You know what? Come back inside. You need to put on clothes, it’s freezing, and you know how your body reacts to weather like this. The rain will make you sick. Come, beta." His mother gripped his muscular arm, trying to pull him back, but he didn't budge.
He felt like a pillar of stone. Instead, a small, haunting smile ghosted across his lips.
"She will finally care," he murmured to himself. He looked down at his mother’s hand on his arm for a moment before firmly, almost robotically, brushing it off. Then, he stepped out.
"Devraj! What are you–" Mrs. Rathore stood stunned as her son moved into the storm.
"Bhai!" Vivaan yelled, his voice barely audible over a clap of thunder.
"Get my son out of the rain! Now!" Mrs. Rathore screamed at the guards standing nearby. They moved to intervene, but a voice stopped them cold.
"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Mr. Rathore said calmly. They all turned to look at him, shocked by his lack of urgency.
By then, Devraj had already fully surrendered to the rain.
He walked further into the downpour, the heavy rain drenching his bare chest and hair instantly. He didn't flinch, he just smiled, as if the freezing water was a relief to the fire burning inside him.
"What? What are you even saying!" Mrs. Rathore yelled at her husband in total frustration. Beside her, Vivaan watched his brother with a look of growing horror.
"Get his caregiver," Mr. Rathore said. He didn't even look away from his son's retreating figure. "And all of this will be over."
Vivaan’s head snapped toward his father, his eyes wide. "Ira?"
"Papa, it’s so late! Ira can’t leave her house at this hour. And look at the weather the roads are a death trap!" Vivaan argued, his voice rising in disbelief.
"Well then, we shall just have to stay here and watch him.." Mr. Rathore replied coldly.
He turned back toward the lounge, his gait slow and deliberate.
"If any guard tries to force him back, Devraj won’t hesitate to strike. He is beyond reason right now." He settled back into his seat.
Mrs. Rathore was pacing the foyer, her hands trembling. "How is Ira supposed to help with this? I just want my son back inside where it’s safe!"
"She is the only way," Mr. Rathore stated simply.
"Why are you acting like you don't care!" she screamed, her frustration finally boiling over.
"Devraj is out there in a freezing storm, you are stopping the guards from helping him, and now you’re demanding a young girl come here in late this night? What is wrong with you?" She was terrified, her voice cracking under the weight of her panic.
Mr. Rathore fixed his gaze on his wife. His expression went cold.
"I do care," he said, "But Devraj’s emotions are dangerously unstable. No one in this house can make him listen right now. No one... until that girl gets here."
"Maa! We can argue about this later!" Vivaan interrupted, pointing toward the darkness outside.
"We need to get Ira here. The rain is getting worse and Devraj hasn't moved an inch. He’s just... standing there at the fountain like a statue."
Mrs. Rathore nodded frantically, reaching for her phone with shaking fingers.
"Hold on," Mr. Rathore said. He looked toward the head of security. "You. Two of you. Go to the Verma's house and bring Ira here immediately."
The two guards bowed in silent respect and hurried out into the storm.
Mrs. Rathore stared at her husband, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion.
He met her gaze for a long moment before pulling his own phone from his pocket.
"I want Ira's number.." he stated, his voice flat and commanding.
Vivaan and his mother shared a look of pure apprehension.
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Ira giggled, "Maybe you should have just gotten her what she wanted, Kunal. Youngsters can be incredibly mischievous when they don't get their way."
She was curled up on her bed, the glow of her phone screen the only light in the darkness as she talked to Kunal.
"Trust me, the kids in my family are more discordant than mischievous," Kunal replied with a chuckle that warmed Ira's heart. "They only act like sweet little angels in front of you because they’ve already decided they like you."
Ira was about to tease him back when a violent, heavy thud echoed through the house. Someone was pounding on the front door. She flinched, the phone nearly slipping from her hand.
"Ira? What was that?" Kunal’s voice shifted instantly, turning protective.
Ira held her breath, her heart starting to hammer against her ribs. "I... I don’t know."
"Stay inside, Ira. Do not open that door. I’m coming over right now!" Kunal commanded.
"What? No, Kunal! It’s raining heavily and the roads are–" She didn't even finish her sentence before the line went dead. She stared at the darkened screen, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"It's so late... and that rain.." she whispered to the empty room, her worry for Kunal mixing with a growing sense of dread.
Suddenly, the knocking returned, heavier this time, more authoritative, as if the person on the other side wouldn't take no for an answer. Ira gulped, her throat feeling bone-dry.
She slid off her bed and crept toward her bedroom door.
The house was a tomb of shadows, illuminated only by the jagged flashes of lightning that turned the hallways a ghostly white.
She reached the top of the staircase and peered down into the living room.
Every time the lightning struck, she caught glimpses of the foyer, the strobing light making the familiar space look strange and threatening.
She stood frozen on the stairs, watching the door.
The house groaned under another violent thuds against the front door.
Ira flinched, her fingers hovering over her phone to call her parents, when the device suddenly vibrated in her hand.
She stared at the unknown number, her heart climbing into her throat. With a trembling hand, she swiped to answer.
"H… hello?"
"Ira," a deep, commanding voice resonated through the line, cutting through the sound of the storm. "I need you to follow the two guards waiting for you outside your house. Right now."
A cold chill that had nothing to do with the rain raced down Ira’s spine. "W… who are you? How did you get this number?" she asked, her voice shaking.
A dry chuckle came from the other end. "Mr. Rathore."
Ira’s breath hitched, her eyes widening. "S… Sir! Good evening, Sir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you."
"No need for apologies," he said, his tone dismissing her politeness entirely. "Two of my men are at your door. I want you to follow them back to the mansion immediately."
"I’m sorry, Mr. Rathore, but it’s very late... and the storm is–"
"Devraj is dying, Ira."
The words hit her like a physical blow. "What? What happened to him? Sir?"
"This is a request from a father, Ira. Not a boss. I will be expecting you." The line went dead before she could utter another word.
She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen. It was 9:30 PM.
The darkness of the house suddenly felt suffocating.
The heavy knocking returned, echoing through the living room.
Ira hurried downstairs, her pulse racing. She fumbled with the locks and pulled the heavy door open.
Two massive figures stood on her porch, drenched to the bone, their faces illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning. She recognized the lead guard from the mansion.
"Mr. Rathore is asking for you, Miss Verma," one of them said, his voice flat and official. "We have a car waiting. Please, we must hurry."
Ira bit her lip, glancing back into the house one last time before making her decision.
She stepped out, pulling the door shut and locking it with trembling fingers.
The guards led the way to the idling black sedan. Ira took a breath and plunged into the downpour.
The cold water soaked through her clothes instantly, stealing her breath.
One of the guards held the door open, ushering her into the dry, leather-scented sanctuary of the backseat.
The other guard climbed into the front, and the car pulled away, its tires slicing through the rising floodwater on the street.
Not a minute later, Kunal’s car screeched to a halt in front of her house. He didn't even bother to close his car door, he vaulted out into the storm and dashed toward the porch. He began hammering on the wood, his knuckles bruised by the force.
"Ira!!" he screamed over the roar of the thunder. "Ira! It’s me! Open up!"
When no answer came, panic flared in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, the rain lashing against the screen as he hit redial.
"Ira!" he yelled the moment she picked up. "I'm outside! Come and open the door!"
"Kunal... meet me at the Rathore mansion," her voice came through, sounding small and strained.
"What? Why? Ira, why on earth are you going back there at this hour?" he demanded, his heart sinking with a terrible intuition.
"Just meet me there, okay? Please... just trust me."
Kunal nodded frantically, even though she couldn't see him.
"I'm coming," he vowed. He turned and sprinted back to his car, his clothes heavy with water and his mind spinning with fear.
He threw the car into gear and sped off into the darkness, the headlights barely cutting through the rain.
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