Lost but Not Forgotten

PART 48

The following morning, things seemed normal. Everyone in the house went about their day, unaware of the storm brewing in Rohit's mind. He had barely slept, the cryptic threats from Rupesh haunting him as he tried to figure out how to protect the people he loved most. Especially now, with Virat as the next target. The pressure weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he remained silent, keeping the burden to himself.

He knew Rupesh wouldn't stop. The next threat was going to be bigger, more dangerous. And the thought of losing Virat, his best friend, his brother, terrified him more than anything else. Rohit couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let it.

Later that day, Virat decided to step out, as carefree as ever. He had no idea about the danger looming over him. Rohit's heart raced. He knew something was about to go wrong. His intuition was never wrong when it came to these threats. And this time, he had no choice but to act fast.

Rohit had kept an eye on Virat's movements, and as expected, something shifted in the air. It started innocuously—a day out, a casual stroll. But Rohit's instincts screamed that something terrible was about to happen.

He followed Virat from a distance, not wanting to alert him, not wanting to scare him. But soon, as they approached a quiet street, Rohit spotted an unfamiliar van slowing down in the distance. It was too coincidental, too suspicious. A chill ran down his spine. Time seemed to slow as the van swerved toward Virat at a dangerous speed.

"Virat!" Rohit shouted, his voice filled with panic and desperation as he sprinted toward him. He didn't care about anything else in that moment—only that he had to reach him before it was too late.

Virat, stunned by Rohit's sudden appearance, barely had time to react. Before he could understand what was happening, Rohit tackled him out of the way just as the van sped by, narrowly missing them by inches. They hit the ground hard, but Rohit kept his arms around Virat, shielding him from the impact.

For a moment, there was silence. Virat was too shocked to move, his heart pounding in his chest. The realization of what had just happened washed over him as he looked at Rohit, panting heavily beside him.

"Ro..." Virat's voice cracked, his words struggling to come out, as if the weight of everything they hadn't said in all these years was pressing down on him.

Rohit's breath hitched, his chest tight with emotions he didn't want to feel. For a split second, he considered it—letting the walls down, letting it all out. The pain of Virat's betrayal, the loneliness of losing his best friend, the love he still held despite everything. It was all there, hovering between them, ready to explode.

But then, just as quickly, Rohit jerked back, pulling away from Virat. He couldn't do this, couldn't let himself fall weak. His heart screamed for that connection, for the brotherhood they once had, but his mind reminded him of how Virat had accused him, how he hadn't trusted him when it mattered the most. He couldn't let himself get hurt again.

Virat reached out, his fingers barely brushing against Rohit's arm. "Rohit, please..."

But before Rohit could say anything, movement caught his eye. His gaze snapped to the van from where the danger had come. The door creaked open, and a man stepped out, a smug expression on his face. And then he did something that sent Rohit's mind into a spiral—he pulled out a photograph, one that Rohit recognized immediately.

It was a picture of MS Dhoni.

The man's grin widened as he tore the photograph in half, right in front of Rohit's eyes.

Rohit's heart stopped. His mind went blank. Mahi Bhai.

Panic surged through his veins like ice. Virat was here, safe for now, but Mahi Bhai—Rohit wasn't with him, no one was. His hands trembled as the realization hit him like a freight train. Whoever this was, they were targeting not just Virat, but Mahi Bhai as well.

And Rohit couldn't be in two places at once.

The man smirked, clearly enjoying the panic he had caused. He knew exactly what he was doing—forcing Rohit to make an impossible choice. Save Virat, or rush to protect MS.

A slow, chilling voice echoed from the van. "Let's see, Rohit. Can you save both?"

Rohit's breath came in ragged gasps. His heart screamed at him to run, to get to Mahi Bhai as fast as he could, but Virat was still there, still vulnerable. He was torn, frozen in place by the crushing weight of the decision before him.

Somewhere far off, Rupesh watched the scene unfold with satisfaction. He had outsmarted Rohit. The plan had worked perfectly—Rohit could only save one. He wanted Rohit to feel the helplessness, the guilt of not being able to protect everyone he loved.

Torn between his best friend and the man who had been like a big brother to him, Rohit stood there, paralyzed by fear and indecision.

His mind raced. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. Not with so much on the line. Virat. Mahi Bhai. The two pillars of his life, and someone was trying to destroy them both.

The choice wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But it was one he had to make.

And as the clock ticked, Rohit knew—no matter what he chose, it would change everything.

************

Rohit's heart pounded in his chest as he stood, blindfolded, his breath uneven. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his back, forcing him to remain still as two men dragged him forward. His hands trembled, but his resolve was ironclad. All he could think of was Mahi Bhai—tied, bruised, unconscious—and how every second counted. When the blindfold was removed, his heart nearly stopped.

There he was—MS Dhoni, the man who had been like an elder brother to him. His face was pale, his usually calm and composed features marred with bruises. He was tied to a chair, slumped over, barely conscious. A shiver ran down Rohit's spine, anger building up inside him, threatening to explode.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the heavy silence. "Well, well. Rohit Sharma, always the hero, isn't he?"

Rohit's eyes snapped toward the source of the voice. Rupesh. The man who had orchestrated this entire nightmare, the one hell-bent on destroying everything and everyone Rohit loved.

Rupesh approached, a twisted smile on his face. He walked over to where Mahi was tied and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back roughly. Rohit's fists clenched as he fought the urge to lunge at him, his blood boiling.

"You couldn't save him before, and you won't save him now," Rupesh sneered. He looked directly into Rohit's eyes, his voice cold. "You remember, don't you? That day when everything fell apart?"

Rohit's jaw tightened, his muscles rigid as memories flooded his mind—the day Virat and Mahi both turned their backs on him. The accusations. The mistrust. The betrayal. He had taken it all, silently, bearing the weight of their anger. But they never knew the truth.

"You could have told them," Rupesh continued, his fingers tightening in Mahi's hair. "You could have told them that you were innocent. But no, you stayed quiet. Why, Rohit? Why did you take the blame?"

Rohit's voice was low, but the fury was unmistakable. "Because you left me no choice."

Rupesh chuckled darkly. "Ah, yes. The mighty Rohit Sharma, sacrificing himself for his so-called brothers. How noble." He kicked the chair Mahi was tied to, causing Dhoni to groan in pain, and Rohit's heart clenched.

"Stop!" Rohit barked, stepping forward, but the gun at his back shoved him back in place.

Rupesh leaned in closer to Mahi, his voice mocking. "Tell me, how does it feel to know you were wrong? You and Virat—both of you. You were so quick to turn on him, weren't you? So quick to believe the worst about the one person who was trying to save you."

Rohit could see Mahi's eyelids flutter, his body struggling to respond, but the shock of Rupesh's words was clear on his face. And in the shadows, hidden from view, Virat and the others stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. Virat's heart raced as the truth—the ugly, painful truth—finally began to unravel.
*****