Echoes Of Yesterday

5. a life in peril

Mihir yelled out to Shravya's moving car, his voice echoing into the night. His lips curved into a smile as he slipped his hands into his pockets, watching the vehicle fade into the distance.

Just then, something caught his eye—a figure cloaked entirely in black. The enigmatic person stood by the edge of the street, their head tilted ever so slightly toward Shravya's car. For a fleeting moment, Mihir's eyes locked with the figure's. Noticing his attention, the figure quickly turned and walked away, their movements deliberate and calculated.

"Weird," Mihir muttered under his breath, shaking off the unease. He began walking toward his car, but an inexplicable chill ran down his spine, halting him in his tracks. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

He spun around, scanning his surroundings. The streetlights illuminated empty spaces, and no one was in sight. Yet the eerie feeling persisted.

Shrugging it off, he climbed into his car and locked the doors. As he started the engine and drove away, the uneasy sensation lingered.

"Who was that person?" he mumbled, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

The forest road ahead was meant to be soothing, a stretch Mihir often admired for its towering trees and serene ambience. But tonight, it felt ominous.

His thoughts shattered as he slammed the brakes, his eyes widening in horror. A car had crashed into one of the massive trees lining the road.

Mihir leapt out of his vehicle, rushing toward the wreckage. Two figures lay motionless on the ground. His heart stopped when he recognized one of them.

"Shravya!" Mihir shouted, his voice cracking with fear as he knelt beside her. Blood seeped from a wound on her head, and her usually vibrant face was pale and bruised.

"Shravya... wake up!" His voice trembled with desperation, but she showed no signs of consciousness.

"Shravya…" a weak voice called out. Mihir turned sharply to see Swati, barely conscious and clutching her side.

"Pl-Please save h-her!" Swati pleaded, her voice faint but urgent.

Mihir's gaze snapped back to Shravya. Blood soaked her clothes, and her stillness was unbearable. Fighting the rising panic, he gently lifted her into a bridal carry, cradling her as if his sheer will could keep her alive.

"Hold on, Shravya," he whispered, his voice a mix of determination and despair.

He placed her carefully in the backseat, then turned to Swati, who was struggling to sit up. Mihir helped her into the car, ensuring she was secure before racing back to the driver’s seat.

The drive to the hospital felt endless. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the stakes. Shravya’s bloodied face flashed before him every time he blinked, fueling his desperation.

Dialing Ishaan, Mihir barely managed to keep his voice steady.

"Ishaan, city hospital aaja. Abhi!"

The urgency in his voice silenced Ishaan’s usual banter. "What happened?!"

"Bas aja!" Mihir snapped, hanging up to focus on the road.

When they arrived at the hospital, Mihir rushed to the emergency ward with Shravya in his arms. Nurses hurried to assist, transferring her onto a stretcher. Mihir held her hand tightly, his grip firm yet tender, as they wheeled her toward the operation theatre.

"Please, save her," he whispered, his voice cracking.

The stretcher disappeared behind the double doors, and Mihir’s hand reluctantly let go. He stood frozen, staring at the closed doors, his mind racing with prayers and fears.

Anamika and Ishaan arrived moments later, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror when they saw Mihir covered in blood.

"Shravya! What happened?" Anamika cried, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

"Anamika, help Swati," Mihir instructed firmly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. Ishaan quickly moved to assist Swati, who was being wheeled into a nearby room.

Swati’s injuries were minor compared to Shravya's, but the trauma was evident on her face. As nurses bandaged her wounds, she recounted the accident.

"Our brakes... they failed," she whispered, her voice shaking. Mihir’s eyes narrowed in shock.

"Brakes failed? How?!" he demanded, but Swati could only shake her head, her face pale with fear and guilt.

Mihir stepped out of the room, his mind racing. The image of the black-clad figure at the café resurfaced, and dread settled in his chest. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"I need your help," he said tersely, his tone brooking no argument.

Unbeknownst to Mihir, someone was watching him from the shadows of the hospital corridor.

"Shravya Singhania is hospitalized," the shadowy figure murmured into a phone.

On the other end of the line, Viraj Malhotra froze. His heart sank as the words registered. Memories of Shravya's laughter, their shared moments, and her unwavering spirit flooded his mind.

Viraj stood abruptly, grabbing his coat and keys. He left his office without a second thought, his mind consumed by worry.

———————————————————

Meanwhile, in a sleek conference room, Mayank meticulously reviewed the company's financial reports, scrutinizing every detail for evidence of fraud. Mihir’s earlier warning had put him on high alert.

The tense atmosphere was interrupted when Ayaan Sharma, Mayank’s assistant, burst into the room.

"Boss, Shravya Singhania has been hospitalized," Ayaan announced, his voice heavy with urgency.

Mayank’s pen slipped from his fingers, and his face paled.

TO BE CONTINUED