AKSHAT SINGHANIA - A literature professor in Singania Institute of Arts and Commerce. He is soft and caring person
with a tough exterior, who doesn't believe in love or marriage because of his parent's broken relationship and his ex wife's betrayal...
Akshat’s entire world came crashing down in that single second when the line went dead.
“Amrit…?” his voice trembled, breaking into silence. He stared at the phone in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat. “Amrit… tum kahan ho??” he whispered, louder now, his tone climbing into panic. “Tum… kaisi ho tum?? Please tell me!”
But there was nothing. Just the dull, empty sound of a disconnected line.
He pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the black screen as if sheer will could make it light up again. His heart pounded so violently it hurt. His fingers shook uncontrollably, his entire body rigid with fear.
“Amrit??” he said again, his voice a broken whisper that filled the still room. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sob clawing its way out of his chest. The tears came faster, unstoppable. “Please, Amrit… say something… please…”
The call was disconnected.
He stood abruptly, knocking the chair back as it screeched across the floor. His pulse raced so hard it blurred his thoughts. The next second, he was running , out of the room, down the hallway, his bare feet hitting the marble floor as he almost stumbled down the stairs.
His voice echoed through the silent house. “Amrit!!”
Vishakha’s door creaked open upstairs, her voice laced with fear. “Akshat? What happened?”
But he didn’t answer. His entire focus was on the phone pressed to his ear.
And then,
A click.
The call connected.
He froze mid-step, his breath catching.
“Hello??” he gasped, almost shouting, his voice trembling with desperation. “Amrit? Amrit, where are you?? Please, just tell me na… at least tell me you’re fine! Say something, please!”
There was silence on the other end, broken only by faint static. Akshat’s heart hammered against his ribs. His other hand clenched into a trembling fist.
“Amrit, please!” he begged, his voice raw now, hoarse from shouting. “Say something… anything! I’m begging you…”
He was halfway down the stairs now, his eyes wild with tears, his breathing uneven
And then, through the static, came a sound that made his blood run cold , a muffled cry. A woman’s cry.
“Ak…Akshat!” Her voice was hoarse, desperate, barely audible over the chaos in the background. The clatter of something falling, heavy footsteps, the sound of a door slamming , and then, men’s voices. Rough, commanding, cruel.
