The Rhythms Of Her Dreams✨️

28. Escape from the shadows✨️

The city outside had quieted. Even the stars seemed to hold their breath, dimmed by the weight of the night that had unfolded. Shubman pulled the car into the underground parking of his apartment building, his hands still trembling around the steering wheel.

Kaira was barely conscious beside him, her face pale, the mascara smudged down her cheeks like ink bleeding over paper. He could sense the alcohol in her system. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask. He had seen enough in her eyes to know this night had scarred her.

He carried her inside. His apartment was sleek, modern, but tonight it felt too cold, too sterile. He laid her down on his bed, draping the blanket around her carefully like she would break. She was clinging to his wrist still, even in her sleep-like stupor, murmuring faintly, “Don’t leave…”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, brushing the hair away from her face.

But after she drifted off, he gently loosened her grip and retreated to the guest room, his heart thundering with worry. He didn’t know the full story yet, but something told him—something was very, very wrong. Yet, he chose to stay away in a different room. She was drugged and miserable. The morality in him didn't allow to stay any longer even though the girl lying on his bed is his girlfriend, the girl he loves with his everything.

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3:04 AM

He stirred awake, the faint sound of running water scratching against the silence of the apartment like nails on a chalkboard. For a second, he dismissed it as a dream. But then it came again—drip-drip-drip-shhhhhh—a steady stream that didn’t belong.

Shubman sat up instantly. Kaira.

He ran through the hallway barefoot, his heartbeat pounding louder than the sound itself. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Light spilled from the bathroom.

“Kaira?” he called, gently pushing the door open.

His breath caught.

She was in the bathroom, crouched in the tub, fully dressed, the shower raining down on her cold water. Her hands were ferociously scrubbing at her arms, her skin already red and raw. Her lips trembled as she chanted over and over—“I’m impure… I’m dirty… He touched me… I didn’t want it…”

“Kaira!” Shubman cried, rushing to her side. He knelt beside the tub, his clothes soaking instantly.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, shrinking back violently, her eyes wide and distant like she couldn’t even see him. “Don’t touch—I’m impure! I said no! I said—he didn’t stop—”

“It’s me, Kaira. It’s Shubh,” he said softly, cupping her cheeks. “You’re safe. You’re with me. No one’s gonna hurt you again.”

But she kept rocking back and forth, whispering things he could barely comprehend. Shubman reached over and turned off the shower. The silence that followed was deafening.

He wrapped her in a towel and lifted her out of the tub. She was trembling. Soaked. Broken. Something burnt in her and she started trembling aggressively as if Shubman’s touch also burnt her.

Kaira’s body shook violently, her breaths short and ragged as she clutched her knees to her chest on the bed. Her eyes were wide, staring into something that wasn’t there—something only she could see. Her fingers twitched as if fighting off invisible hands, and her lips moved in whispers too broken to make sense.

“Kaira,” Shubman said gently, kneeling in front of her. “Kaira, look at me.”

But she didn’t. She rocked harder.