The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over all as Angshi, Madhu, and Kajal stood near the ghat. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and marigolds, mingling with the smoke rising from the pyre. The ritual for Angshi's grandfather’s cremation was about to begin.

The priest chanted mantras in a deep, rhythmic voice, his words echoing across the riverbank. Angshi knelt beside the pyre, her hands trembling as she held a small earthen pot. Tears streaked her face, her grief overwhelming as she circled the pyre, sprinkling water in a clockwise direction—a symbolic act to purify the soul’s journey to the afterlife.

Madhu and Kajal followed behind her, each holding a bundle of sacred wood. They placed the wood on the pyre with care, their faces etched with sorrow. Kajal wiped her tears with the edge of her saree, while Madhu clenched her fists, determined to stay strong for her friends.

Angshi's voice cracked as she whispered, “Dadaji… aap mere sab kuch the. Mujhe maaf karna ki main aapke liye itni der se aayi." (Grandfather, you were my everything. Forgive me for not coming to you sooner.) She pressed her palms together, closing her eyes as the priest handed her a lit torch.

Her heart pounded as she stepped closer to the pyre. "Antim sanskar toh ek aakhri vidai hai," the priest murmured, (The last rites are a final farewell,) his voice gentle yet firm. Angshi lit the pyre, her tears falling freely now. The flames crackled and roared to life, consuming the body of the man who had been her pillar of strength.

Madhu placed a comforting hand on Angshi’s shoulder. “Hum yeh ek saath karenge,” (We’ll do this together,) she whispered, her voice steady despite her own grief. Kajal nodded, standing resolutely beside them.

As the flames rose, the crackling of the pyre was interrupted by a deep, resonant voice. “Aapke dadaji ke liye hum shok vyakt karte hain.” (We express our condolences for your grandfather.) Angshi, Madhu, and Kajal turned to see three young men standing at a respectful distance, their faces somber and serious.

The first man stepped forward, his sharp jawline and piercing eyes momentarily catching Angshi’s attention. “Main Angshuman Rawal hoon,” (I am Angshuman Rawal,) he said softly, bowing slightly in respect. “Aapke dadaji ne ek din pehle hi humare saath ek contract sign kiya tha. Hum yahan shok vyakt karne aur unki ichha poori karne aaye hain.” (Your grandfather signed a contract with us just a day before he passed. We’ve come to offer our condolences and fulfill his wishes.)

Angshi’s brows furrowed as she studied him, her lips tightening into a thin line.

The second man, taller with an air of quiet strength, stepped forward. “Main Vikram Rawal hoon,” (I am Vikram Rawal,) he said, his deep voice steady. “Aapke dadaji ne hume ek zimmedari di thi, jo aap teenon se judi hui hai. Hum yahan uska poora samarthan dene aaye hain.” (Your grandfather entrusted us with a responsibility that involves all three of you. We’re here to provide our full support.)

His gaze lingered on Madhu, who crossed her arms and looked at him with a mix of wariness and irritation.

The third man, slightly younger but exuding charm, stepped forward with a faint smile. “Aur main Utkarsh Rawal hoon. Aap sabse milke khushi hui, lekin kaash yeh haalaat behtar hote.” (And I’m Utkarsh Rawal. It’s a pleasure to meet you all, though I wish the circumstances were better.)

His eyes softened as they landed on Kajal, who immediately raised a brow in annoyance. “Kya dekh rahe ho?” (What are you staring at?) she snapped, her tone sharp. Utkarsh raised his hands in mock surrender. “Maine toh bas aapko greet karne ki koshish ki.” (I was just trying to greet you.) “Is tarah ghurna greeting nahi kehlata,” (Staring like that isn’t called a greeting,) Kajal retorted, her irritation evident.

Angshi wiped her tears and straightened, her voice trembling. “ Kya aap mere dadaji ko jante the?" (You knew my grandfather?) Angshuman nodded. “ Ji haan. Unhone hum par bharosa kiya ki hum apko aapke har zaruri kamon mein madad kar sake. Lekin pehle unhe shraddhanjali de de. Aapke dadaji apke bare mein kafi acha bolte the."( Yes. He trusted us to assist you with something important. But first, we wanted to pay our respects. Your grandfather spoke very highly of you.)

The priest concluded the rituals, instructing the women to immerse the ashes in the river the following morning. As the crowd dispersed, the Rawal brothers stayed behind, their presence offering an unexpected uncomfort to them.

Angshuman found himself unable to take his eyes off Angshi. Her grief-stricken face held a quiet strength that captivated him. As the flames died down, he approached her hesitantly. “ Agar kuch ho jo main apke liye kar saku..."(If there’s anything I can do…) he began, his voice sincere. Angshi looked at him, her tears threatening to return. Her mind totally lost by losing one person permanently and while other was on verge of it.“ Aap nekdil hai, par mujhe kaise kya karna hai kuch nahi pata."(You’re kind, but I don’t even know where to begin.) “Apko kuch bhi akele karne ki zarurat nahi hai,"( You don’t have to do this alone,) he said gently. “ Aapke dadaji hum par bharosa karte the. Hume madad karne de." (Your grandfather trusted us. Let us help you.)

Meanwhile, Vikram watched as Madhu knelt to pick up the earthen pot, her movements deliberate and precise. There was something about her determination, even in the face of loss, that drew him in. “Aap kafi himmat wali hai,"(You’re strong,) he said softly. Madhu looked up, startled. “ Kya?"(What?) “Aap sabko kafi ache se sambhal rahi hai,"(You’re holding everyone together,) Vikram said. “ Yeh sarahniye hai."(It’s admirable.) Madhu frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Himmat chunnav nahi, zarurat hai."(Strength isn’t a choice. It’s a necessity.) Vikram nodded, impressed by her resolve. “ Fir bhi sabki bas ki baat nahi hai, wo bhi itne nazakat se."(Still, not everyone manages it so gracefully.)

Kajal, on the other hand, found herself unable to ignore Utkarsh’s gaze. He stood beside her, his usual confidence tempered by the somber atmosphere. “Aap apne doston se zyada khamosh hai,(You’re quieter than your friends,) he observed. She glanced at him,“Main...sirf..kya kahu nahi pata mujhe." (I just… don’t know what to say.) “ Kabhi kabhi lafzo ki zarurat nahi hoti."(Sometimes, words aren’t necessary,) he said with a small smile. “Lekin jo zarurat hai, wo hai aapki maoujudgi, jo bahut kuch kehti hai. Aap unke liye bahut fikr karti hai jo dikhta hai."(But for what it’s worth, I think your presence says a lot. You care deeply—it’s obvious.) Kajal looked away from him.

As the night deepened. the ghat grew eerily silent, the last embers of the pyre glowing faintly against the dark water. Angshi, Madhu, and Kajal stood at the edge of the river, their grief heavy but unspoken. Behind them, the Rawal brothers lingered in the shadows, their presence a quiet storm waiting to unleash itself.

Angshi turned to leave, her steps unsteady but resolute. She didn't notice the way Angshuman's gaze lingered on her retreating figure, his fists clenching as though fighting an invisible force.

Madhu offered a hand to steady Angshi, her strength unwavering even as Vikram's eyes bore into her back. His expression was unreadable, but the slight tilt of his head betrayed thoughts he wasn't willing to voice.

Kajal pulled her shawl closer, her sharp eyes glancing briefly at Utkarsh, who stood with a smile that seemed too casual for the moment. As their eyes met, his expression shifted, softening into something darker-something almost... possessive.

The three women disappeared into the night, leaving only the distant sound of their footsteps. The Rawal brothers exchanged glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"Ab yeh sirf ek mulaqat nahi rahi," (This is no longer just a meeting.) Angshuman murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"Jo shuru kiya hai, usse anjaam tak pahuchana hoga." (What we've started, we must see through to the end.) Vikram added, his tone firm, almost final.

Utkarsh smirked, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. "Aur jo anjaam hoga, wo unka nahi, humara hoga." (And the ending? It won't be theirs -it will be ours.)

As the night fell, casting long shadows over the ghat, the Rawal brothers stepped back into their car, their departure marked by the soft hum of the engine. Unseen by the three women, a silent storm had begun brewing -one that would inevitably draw them deeper into an unforeseen and dangerous connection.

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See you guys in next chapter...
Till then love you guys...
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