Just A Friend?

Chapter Thirty-Nine

⚠ Warning: This content contains some offensive language, violence, and abuse

Rahul's car rolled to a stop near an ancient, crumbling house that seemed to sag under the weight of its own sorrow. The roof, bowed and worn, resembled the back of an old man, stooped with age and burdened by countless years of neglect.

The cedar shingles, jutting out at odd angles, looked like crooked teeth in a mouth too tired to hold itself together. Windows, now nothing more than empty frames, gaped like hollow eyes, the jagged edges no longer rectangular but twisted, as if the house itself was wincing in pain.

As Rahul stepped out of his car, the air was thick with the scent of decay and the echoes of a life that once was. His bodyguards stood nearby, a frail old woman clutched a newborn tightly to her chest. The baby, wrapped in a worn blanket, was the only sign of life in this desolate place.

The woman's face was a canvas of pain and fear, streaked with dried blood and tears. She was trembling, her fragile frame seeming as if it might collapse at any moment under the weight of her despair.

One of the bodyguards, a stern man with a deep voice, approached Rahul, his expression grim. "Sir," he began, his tone respectful but heavy with the gravity of the situation. "We found her wandering the streets alone, her face covered in blood. She wouldn't speak at first, but we assured her we could help if she told us what happened. It turns out, she's a victim. Her son... he's a drug addict. He beats her every time he uses. He... he killed his own wife, and tonight, he tried to kill this woman and her grandchild. In desperation, she struck him with a steel rod... he died instantly. She fled, carrying the baby, not knowing where else to go."

Rahul listened, his heart hardening with every word, yet a deep sadness settled in his chest. Slowly, he turned to face the old woman, his gaze softening as he took in her haggard appearance, the way her eyes—eyes that had seen too much—looked up at him with a mixture of fear and hope.

"Ma," he said gently, his voice soothing like a balm to her wounds. "You don't have to worry anymore. You're safe now. We'll take care of everything—food, shelter, and protection. No one will hurt you or this child again."

The old woman's eyes filled with tears as she looked at Rahul, her gratitude too overwhelming for words. "Thank you, child," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't care about myself... I just want to protect him." She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, her words weighted with a mother's desperate love.

Rahul's heart clenched painfully in his chest. Her words echoed in his mind, stirring memories he had buried deep within.

Memories of his own mother, of her voice, filled with the same fierce love and determination. "I will protect you forever, baby," she had once said to him, her voice a promise that had carried him through his darkest days.

He blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. Reality came crashing back as he brushed away the remnants of emotion from his eyes, steeling himself against the flood of memories that threatened to engulf him.

Turning to his bodyguards, his voice regained its firmness. "Take them to our home in Chennai. Handle this issue discreetly. I don't want them involved in this any further. They've suffered enough."

With a nod, the bodyguards helped the old woman and the baby into the car, their departure a silent assurance that they were in safe hands. Rahul watched them drive away, his gaze lingering on the fading taillights until they disappeared into the night.

Once they were gone, he climbed back into his own car, his mind a storm of thoughts and emotions. Without a second thought, he drove to a secluded river he had discovered during his time in Chennai. The river had become his sanctuary, a place where the steady flow of water seemed to wash away his troubles, where the endless current mirrored the turmoil in his heart.