𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚 : 𝐸𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠

~🥀 Royal Storm🥀~

💗

The bus screeched to a slow halt, the engine grumbling one last time before settling into silence. The conductor barely glanced at her as he extended his hand, waiting for his fare.

Haseena stood frozen near the exit, her fingers tightly curled around the last piece of silver she had left—the other anklet. The only thing that had once belonged to her, the only piece of herself that hadn’t been stolen or broken in these past months.

Her lips trembled as she reached down, unfastening it from her ankle with slow, hesitant movements. The weight of loss felt heavier than ever as she placed it onto his palm.

For a moment, he stared at her, perhaps recognizing the sheer desperation in her eyes. But he said nothing, simply pocketed the anklet and nodded towards the door.

“Utar jao, behen. Yahi last stop hai.”

Haseena didn’t move immediately. Her throat burned, her body ached, but above all—her heart felt like it was collapsing under the weight of everything she had endured. Three months. Three months of being caged, of stolen freedoms, of suffocating under the presence of a man who terrified her in ways she didn’t even want to understand.

And now, she was finally here.

Her feet wobbled as she stepped down onto the dirt road. The moment her soles touched the uneven ground of her village, a sob ripped from her throat, uncontrolled, raw, and aching.

She covered her mouth to stifle the sound, but the tears refused to stop.

She was home.

The narrow lanes of Madhubani stretched ahead, familiar yet distant. The scent of damp earth, of cow dung mixed with the faint aroma of mustard oil from the nearby dhabas, flooded her senses. Her vision blurred as she turned towards the small house at the end of the street—the only place she had ever called home.

A part of her wanted to collapse right there, to let herself crumble into the ground and disappear. But she forced her feet to move, staggering toward the house.

And then—

The door creaked open.

“Haseena…?”

Noor Jahan’s voice trembled as she stepped onto the threshold, her hands shaking as she clutched the edge of her dupatta.

Haseena’s breath hitched, her lips parting—but no words came out. She could only stare at her mother, at the familiar face lined with exhaustion, at the weary eyes that widened in disbelief.

Noor Jahan took a single step forward, as if fearing that what she was seeing was an illusion.

And then—

“Ammi!”

Haseena fell into her mother’s arms with a strangled cry, her body collapsing against Noor Jahan’s frail frame.

Noor Jahan gasped, the impact nearly making her stumble, but she held on—arms tightening around her daughter as though she would disappear if she let go.

“Haseena… ya Allah… tu zinda hai?” Her voice broke, her hands frantically cupping Haseena’s face, pushing back her tangled hair, pressing kisses against her forehead. “Meri bacchi… tu kahan chali gayi thi? Kya ho gaya tha?”

Haseena sobbed harder, burying her face into her mother’s shoulder, her fingers gripping the back of Noor Jahan’s faded dupatta as if anchoring herself.

“Bhaag aaye ham, Ammi…” she choked out, the words slipping past trembling lips. “Ek… ek kidnapper se…”

Noor Jahan stiffened. She pulled back slightly, her gaze searching Haseena’s face, taking in the hollowness beneath her eyes, the faint bruises on her wrist, the frailness of her body.