Her Nightmare ✓

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P A R I N I D H I

"Rahul, let's hurry up; we're getting late," I called out while waiting outside his school.

"Yeah, di, I'm coming," Rahul replied, his tone irritated as he waved goodbye to his friends. "How many times have I told you not to pick me up from school?" he muttered, frustration clear in his voice.

I reached out and gently ruffled his hair, sensing his annoyance. "What's wrong, Rahul?" I asked softly.

"Everyone teases me because my sister still comes to pick me up. It's embarrassing," he admitted, his voice laced with discomfort.

As we crossed the road, I held his hand firmly, offering reassurance. "So what? My college is right next to your school, and our timings match, so I come to pick you up," I explained calmly.

"But di—" he started, but I cut him off. "You feel ashamed because of me?" I asked, my tone laced with a hint of hurt as I searched his face.

Rahul's gaze dropped, and he shook his head quickly. "No, di. I won't say that again, sorry," he mumbled, his voice softening as we walked closer to home.

Suddenly, his pace slowed, and he pointed ahead. "Why is there such a crowd outside?" he asked, confusion clouding his features.

I followed his gaze, my heart sinking when I noticed the gathering outside our house.

My confusion quickly turned to dread as I caught sight of the white cloths draped over something. My steps faltered, and a sense of foreboding gripped me.

Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I turned to Rahul, masking my rising panic. "Rahul, doesn't your friend Vikram live nearby?" I asked, my voice urgent. "Go there for now. I'll come to pick you up in a while."

"But di—" Rahul began to protest, worry creeping into his voice.

"Just do as I say," I insisted firmly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Reluctantly, Rahul nodded. "Okay, di," he said quietly before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, I sprinted toward our house, my heart pounding like a drum.

The closer I got, the louder the hum of whispered condolences and muffled sobs became, amplifying the storm brewing in my chest.

Crossing the threshold, the scene before me hit like a sledgehammer. My father's lifeless body lay still, covered in white, a haunting silence surrounding him.

The sharp wails of my mother tore through the air, each cry ripping through me like a blade.

Mourners stood in small clusters, their voices hushed, their words a blur as the weight of the moment bore down on me.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The room spun, and my legs gave out beneath me as I collapsed to my knees.

"Papa!" I screamed, the sound raw and guttural, echoing through the heavy stillness. Tears streamed down my face as the crushing reality of loss engulfed me, leaving nothing but an unbearable void in its wake.

"Papa!" I jolted awake with a scream, my body drenched in sweat, my breath coming in sharp gasps.

I stared at my trembling hand, the panic still thick in my chest. The room around me was familiar—my bedroom—but the nightmare clung to me like a shadow.

Reality fought to break through, but the terror of Devansh's earlier actions was still there, an unrelenting presence that wrapped itself around me like an icy wind.