A boy is left behind by his mother and is rescued by a stranger. Soon after, two people are killed.
Twenty five years later, emotions are resurfacing. Ayaan Agnihotri learns that his rescuer is no more but the truth runs deeper than that. So, he emb...
Aakriti woke up that day to the feeling of remorse and regret. It was her birthday. For the past 25 years, on this day, she relived a memory and went about her day as usual. The memory was of the last birthday Layana celebrated for her.
At the stroke of midnight, streamers sounded with Happy Birthday song playing from the music player. Ankush woke her gently in his calm voice, “Aakriti. Happy Birthday, dear sister. ” That was probably the last time he spoke to her like a brother who loved his sister. Ayaan had jumped on her bed, clung to her shoulders wanting to blow the candles with her. Layana was the last to come in the line of her sight. She held a square cake coated in dark chocolate ganache with the words, Happy Birthday Aakriti written with vanilla buttercream. Layana held the cake while Ankush lighted the candles. “Auntie, let's blow the candles together”, Ayaan said from behind her.
“Ankush is planning to get you married. This might be the last birthday I get to celebrate for you.” Layana had said. The mere remembrance of her words in the tonality she still heard distinctly reduced her to tears. It was almost a prophecy that came true. Why did the heavens listen to her and not the birthday girl's wish to bless the family with happiness always?
Today, she couldn't shake it off and go about like everything's fine. She missed Layana terribly. She was more a sister than Ankush had ever been a brother to her. Ayaan was no longer the child who would blow her birthday candles with her. In his knowledge, they were strangers who adopted him. Following the unfortunate incident, she decided to call off her wedding scheduled two months later. To ensure Ayaan lived a decent life in the Agnihotri family, she decided to not marry and guard him for life.
When Layana came to know about Ankush and Chhaya, Aakriti was the first person she confronted. “Tell me you don't know about my husband's antics”, Layana had said. She didn't say ‘your brother’ which would be accusing Aakriti's family. It could have been her possessiveness kicked in, but Aakriti liked the fact that she channelled her accusation towards her own marriage.
Layana detailed her surprise gone wrong in Ankush's office where she found out about how he planned to destroy her. Aakriti could only plead her innocence and offer her loyalty to her friend. “I don't doubt you, Aakriti. But I'm going to ask you a big favour. Irrespective of what happens with me, Chhaya and Ankush should never win. Ayaan should live his right. Even if it means you join hands with them.” Aakriti swore to complete the favour but Layana never said she would have to do it alone, in memory of her lost soul. Yet Aakriti did it all, standing strong, relying on strangers or remote acquaintances, scheming and plotting against her brother, and at the end of the day, faking her support.
It was late afternoon in the present day but her regret wasn't going anywhere. How she wished Layana was alive. How she wished Ankush stayed true to his marriage. How she wished Ayaan knew the truth of his parentage. How she wished she didn't add another innocent soul in the cauldron. How she wished everyone knew the story and justice meted out to the criminals.
Unable to pull herself together, she threw on the first Salwar suit she found in her wardrobe, went to Chhaya and demanded the keys to Aashayein. When asked the purpose, she wished to say “none of your business”. Instead, she said, “I called someone to clean up the windows. The dust must have collected since they were cleaned two years ago.” Chhaya gave her the keys not without a scowl on her face saying she didn't believe her. True enough, when Aakriti parked inside Aashayein, she found Chhaya behind her.
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The night sky was as dark as a black outfit one would wear to a funeral. The stars hid their fires. The crescent moon was only a thin line, that too partly covered by the clouds. Chhaya Agnihotri stumbled onto the porch of Aashayein. The creaking floor beneath her feet didn't slow her gait. She reached her car, a silver BMW sedan parked outside. Her hand grabbed the roof rails while she leaned against the car body, trying to fish out the car remote from her beige Prada clutch. Her long wavy hair she normally tucked over her shoulder was in a mess falling on both sides of her face, blocking her view. She ran a hand through her crown, throwing her locks away from her eyes. She was sweating profusely from the quarrel she had earlier with Aakriti. Finally, she found the car remote, unlocked, sat in and locked the doors. She found her phone and dialled Raghav.
“Aakriti… Aakriti… She is dead… at Aashayein…”
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I am sure you are thinking a lot of theories. Do share them with me in the comments. I am eager to know your reactions.
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