Chapter 5: The Night Holds Its Breath

Meera sat in the passenger seat, silent, hands clenched, knuckles white. The garden looked like a tornado had swept through—children’s toys, broken crockery, stray shoes, even a packet of Kurkure scattered everywhere. The sharp smell of wet mud and crushed jasmine filled the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fear.

Rajeev’s prized road bike was tossed on the lawn like rubbish. He’d spent hours polishing it, always parking it carefully. Now it lay twisted, as if it meant nothing.

'You and the kids stay in the car. Lock the doors, call the police.' His voice was stern, no argument possible. Meera nodded, hands shaking as she dialed.

Rajeev got out, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath—the night air thick with tension. With no revolver from the airport, he grabbed a hammer from the ground and moved towards the front door, every muscle taut. The porch light flickered above.

Inside, he could hear movement—footsteps, slow and deliberate. Rajeev’s jaw tightened. 'This time, I’ll catch you…'

He pressed his hand to the lock—still locked. He took out his key, tried to turn it. The door barely budged. There was resistance from the other side.

Adrenaline surged. He pressed his shoulder to the wood, feeling someone bracing hard inside. He pushed with all his might, hammer raised.

Two forces strained, but Rajeev was stronger—he forced the door open a crack. The scraping lock was drowned by his own laboured breathing. The kids cried out from the car. Meera shushed them, whispering, 'Bhagwan, raksha karna.'

Just as he was about to peer inside, a bloodshot hand appeared, gripping the edge of the door, knuckles raw and trembling. Rajeev’s breath caught. What kind of person had haunted their family so long?

Rajeev’s grip tightened on the hammer. From inside, a hoarse whisper echoed—'Mat kholo... please.' The night held its breath.