Wounded Heart ✔

Chapter - 16

The room reeked of rot and despair. Dust clung to every corner, cobwebs swayed in the stale air, and the foul stench of dampness pressed down like a curse. In that suffocating darkness, two fragile figures huddled close, trembling as though the cold itself had seeped into their bones.

Amira's sobs broke the silence, her tears soaking into Amir's shoulder, each cry a dagger of helplessness. Amir's own eyes burned, but he swallowed his fear, forcing his trembling hands to stroke her hair, whispering against the pounding in his chest.

"Mira," he murmured, voice hoarse yet steady, "Papa and Bhaiyu will come. I swear on everything, they'll come for us. Nothing will happen to you. I won't let it."

Her breath hitched, her little fists curling into his shirt. "Mir... Mumma will be waiting... Bhaiyu too... they must be so scared. I don't want to die here." Her words cracked like glass in the silence.

The heavy creak of the door shattered their fragile hope. A harsh beam of light cut through the room as two masked men stepped inside. Both children stiffened, fear crawling under their skin, but they didn't flinch. Amira clung to Amir's arm, and he tightened his hold on her, his eyes burning with defiance.

"Why did you take us?" Amir demanded, his voice sharp though his heart pounded against his ribs. "What do you want from us? Let us go!"

"Shut up, brat," one of the men growled. "It's been four days. Still no reply from your parents. We want money. Until we get it—you're not leaving this place alive."

The second man's gaze lingered too long on Amira, his eyes predatory even behind the mask. Amira shrank, fear strangling her breath, but before panic could consume her, Amir shifted, pulling her behind his back like a shield. His jaw clenched, his body trembling, but his eyes dared the man to even take a step closer. Amira buried her face against her twin, breathing in the only safety she had left.

"Sit down and shut your mouths," the first man barked, grabbing his companion by the arm and dragging him out. The door slammed, the lock clicking back into place, leaving the twins once again in choking darkness.

Leaning against the cold wall, Amir held Amira close. Their breaths synced in silent desperation, their hearts screaming louder than words ever could.

Meanwhile, Amna Mansion was a storm without calm. The very soul of the house had been ripped away. Raj, Yashwanth, Aakash, and Rajat were barricaded in the study with the Commissioner, pressing for leads, their voices sharp with a mix of rage and helplessness.

In the main hall, the women tried to soothe shattered hearts. Khushi's sobs echoed through the mansion, raw and endless, her body shaking violently in Pooja's arms. Beside her, Aashi cried until her eyes were swollen, whispering prayers under every breath, her small hands trembling as if clinging to an invisible Amira.

But the silence of Abhishek's room was louder than all of it. From the moment the news broke, he had locked himself inside Amira's room, refusing food, refusing comfort, his eyes red and hollow as he sat surrounded by her things. He would not leave until she returned.

And outside—Arnav drove through every street, every shadow, every corner of the city. His shirt clung to him with sweat, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. He searched like a man possessed, returning home empty-handed each time, only to go back out again. His heart was breaking, his fury simmering, but his eyes burned with only one truth—he would bring his children home.

It was supposed to be a day of celebration.
A day where laughter and pride would fill the air as the family honoured Amira and Amir's achievements. They had worked so hard, and their stubborn little demand to spend the afternoon together at their favourite restaurant was something neither Arnav nor Khushi could refuse. Lunch had been filled with joy—Amira glowing with pride at her first-rank distinction, Amir smiling shyly at every word of praise, Aashi clapping for them like their biggest cheerleader, and Abhi throwing in his usual protective banter. It was a picture-perfect family moment.