"Where will you go now?" the man who grabbed Shubhra's arm sneered, his tone menacing.

He yanked her forward, making her stand in front of him.
The commotion woke up Rudra, who began crying and struggling to free himself from the man's grip.

Shubhra turned to face her captor, a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in all black, with a physique reminiscent of a bodyguard.

Three more men, similarly dressed and with trimmed hair, stood beside him.

One of them snatched Rudra from Shubhra's arms, causing her to startle.

Rudra, now fully awake, pushed against the man and cried out,

"Choro mujhe!" she pleaded, her voice shaking with fear. "Choro!" she cried again, desperate. "Chor do mujhe, mujhe meri di ke pass jana hai!"
Rudra, too, struggled and cried, trying to break free from the men's grasp.

(Leave me! Leave me alone! Let me go to my sister!)

"Choro mujhe!" he chimed in, his small voice trembling. (Leave me!)

The men remained unmoved, ignoring their desperate pleas. One of them asked indifferently, "Kya is bacche ko sath le jana hai?" (Do we need to take this kid with us?)

" Han, boss ne iss bache ko sath lane ko kaha hai."Another man replied,

(Yes, the boss ordered us to bring him along.)

"Kahan le jana hai mere bhai ko?"
Shubhra protested

(Where are you taking my brother?) but the men ignored her, discussing their plans instead.

" Or is ladki ka kya karna hai?"
One of them asked

(What about this girl?)

"Isse isi ghar main us admi k sath band kar do" and another replied

(Lock her in the house with that man.)

The man holding Shubhra's arm dragged her towards her house, despite her and Rudra's continued protests and struggles to break free.

After receiving orders from their leader, the man gripping Shubhra's arm dragged her towards her house.

Both she and Rudra protested and struggled to break free from their captors' grasp. Horror was palpable on their faces

The man holding Rudra administered a small injection, and he began to doze off.

Meanwhile, Shubhra was dragged towards her house, crying, weeping, and screaming for help, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

The other man took Rudra and placed him in the car, while the one holding Shubhra's hand roughly threw her inside the house without exerting much force.

The man then locked both the front and back doors, trapping Shubhra inside. Desperate and panicked, she started banging on the door, hoping someone would hear her cries for help.

"Darwaza kholo!" I shouted frantically.

"Kholo Darwaza!" I tried again, but my pleas were met with silence. I heard the sound of tires screeching away, and I realized they had already left.

Just then, I heard a faint voice call out,

"Subh..." It was soft and weak, but it sent a chill down my spine. The voice grew slightly louder,

"Beta..." My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the voice. I stood frozen, my heart racing, and shouted,
"Papa!"

"Aap ho kya Papa?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

(Is that you, Papa?)

The voice was faint, but it was unmistakable. My mind raced with questions and emotions as I struggled to process what was happening.

As I walked towards the voice, the scene unfolding before me was enough to leave me stunned and numb. My senses reeled in shock, unable to process the horror that lay before me.

My father lay on the sofa, his clothes drenched in blood. My feet froze, unable to move forward, as I prayed that this wasn't his blood, that he wasn't the one who had been shot.

Maybe it was someone else, maybe... But as I approached him, the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.

I saw the gunshot wound on his stomach, and I broke down. Tears flowed heavily, my voice trembling as I tried to speak.

"Papa...papa!" My voice trembled, barely able to utter the words.

"What...what happened to you?" I stuttered, my voice cracking with emotion.

"Who...who did this to you?" I cried out, my words dissolving into sobs. I wept uncontrollably.

My father, with a weak and gentle touch, cupped my face with his blood-soaked hands, trying to comfort me.

As he wiped away my tears, his blood smeared across my cheeks, a haunting reminder of the horror before me. .

"Don't cry, princess!" my father whispered, his voice weak but urgent.

"You're my brave girl, aren't you?" I placed my hands on his, and tears streamed down my face as I revealed,

"Papa, they took Rudra with them..."

My father's expression turned stern, his eyes pleading with me to be strong.

"No, no, princess! You can't cry like this! You need to be brave, for Rudra's sake!" He struggled to speak, his voice growing fainter.

"You need to protect your brother... Run, Subh... Run!"

I protested, "But Papa, I won't leave you!" He insisted, "Listen, kiddo... I don't have much time left... You have to go to Italy, to your mother... Ask your uncle to help you!" His words were laced with desperation.

"Go, sweetheart, go! If not for you, then for Rudra!"

With those final words, his hands slipped from mine, and he fell back onto the sofa. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks - he was gone.

I collapsed into sobs, hugging him tightly.

"Papa... Papa..." I whispered, my heart shattering into a million pieces.

Suddenly, I felt an unusual warmth emanating from my father's body and realized I was also feeling extremely hot.

I looked around to see the house engulfed in flames.

"No! No! No! I can't die like this!" I panicked, thinking of my brother Rudra.

"Hey bhagwan!! What will I do now..."
"Mujhe bachalo ,please god please!!"

(Oh God, what do I do now? Save me, please! I'm only 14, please God...)

Tears streamed down my face, but I knew I had to act fast.
With a newfound determination, I stood up, wiped my tears, and rushed towards the main gate.

However, the doorknob was scorching hot, and I realized the fire had spread to the hall. I quickly changed direction and made a dash for the back door in the kitchen.

I tried to open the gate, but it was locked. Frantically searching for a solution, I spotted a khalbatta (pestle and mortar) and decided to use it to break the lock.

I hammered the khalbatta against the lock repeatedly, but it wouldn't budge. Panic began to set in as I realized I might not be able to escape.

I frantically scanned my surroundings, and my eyes landed on the open window. I sprinted towards it, realizing the fire was closing in on the kitchen. I glanced back at the spot where my father's body lay, and my heart sank as I saw it being consumed by the flames. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and guilt washed over me. My father's last words echoed in my mind: "Go, Sweetheart, go." I steeled myself, wiped away my tears, and jumped out the window.

I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction of my house, not stopping until I was sure I was at a safe distance. I collapsed under a big tree, finally allowing myself to cry uncontrollably. I was exhausted, my long hair now a tangled mess, my eyes swollen from crying, and my body covered in blood, dust, and the acrid smell of smoke.

I couldn't hold back my tears; I had lost my father, my brother had been kidnapped, and my childhood home was burning down before my eyes. I sat there, helpless, as I watched every shred of my home slowly turn to ash.

"I'm an orphan now," I sobbed, my voice shaking with grief.

"Where will I go? What will I do?" I cried out in despair, feeling utterly alone and abandoned.

"Hey bhagwan! Ab main kya karu??"I pleaded, my heart heavy with the weight of my loss and uncertainty about my future.

(Oh God, what will I do now? )