Flames raged like wild beasts unleashed from hell.
Sparks leapt into the air, crackling and twisting, as the fire consumed everything in its path. The small house, once filled with warmth and laughter, now stood engulfed in a fiery dance of destruction. Screams tore through the night. A woman's voice — shrill, desperate — echoed into the chaos.
"Help! Somebody, please help!"
Smoke billowed upward, curling into the night sky like a demonic serpent. The walls of the house groaned under the heat, wood cracking, glass shattering, furniture crumbling into ash. Terrified neighbors stood at a distance, their eyes wide with horror, some shouting for help, others dialing emergency services with trembling fingers.
But the fire only roared louder, louder than prayers, louder than the sirens in the distance, louder than the heartbeats of those witnessing the horror.
And amidst it all, a child's cry — not loud, but silent, a soundless echo of terror — lingered inside the inferno.
A small boy, barely five, crouched in a corner, his tiny hands pressed over his ears, eyes staring at the flames devouring his world. The smoke was thick, choking, blinding. He couldn't scream. He couldn't move.
All he saw was fire… and shadows.
---
Arjun jolted awake.
His breath came in short, sharp gasps, chest heaving as if he had just escaped a battlefield. His forehead was damp with sweat, his hands trembling as they clutched the bedsheet. Eyes wide open, yet still haunted by the burning images in his mind.
The room around him was dark — quiet, untouched by fire — but his heart still raced like war drums in a siege.
Another nightmare.
The same nightmare.
Not just a dream — a memory. A scar etched into the deepest corners of his soul.
He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, trying to calm his breathing. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the digital clock on the side table.
6:00 AM.
The early morning light hadn't yet broken through the curtains. But the weight of the past had already risen before the sun.
He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The cold water hit his skin like ice, grounding him, waking him. He tilted his head back, letting the stream wash over him, trying to let it cleanse more than just sweat — trying to wash away the pain, the loss, the helplessness.
But water could never reach that deep.
---
Flashback – The Fire and the Smile
"You know, you should smile more often. You look like you're about to audit God's accounts," Ravi had teased once, grinning as he sipped his tea.
Arjun had chuckled, his response dry and sharp. "Maybe He needs it. Nobody's honest these days."
They both laughed. That was their language — sarcasm layered over unspoken understanding.
Ravi was the type who lit up rooms with his energy. Arjun was the quiet observer, always calm, analytical, thoughtful. Two opposite poles of the same magnetic bond — a friendship rooted in loyalty and shaped by contrast.
They balanced each other out.
---
The Results Day
The school corridor was flooded with students, parents, and tension. Feet shuffled nervously, eyes scanned the notice board, and every few seconds a shriek of joy or a sigh of disappointment rippled through the crowd.
Arjun and Ravi stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting their turn to find their names.
Ravi's eyes found his name first. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Distinction, bro! Dad's going to throw a party tonight!"
Arjun found his own result moments later. Respectable. Average. Nothing to celebrate, nothing to regret.
"That's great," he said to Ravi, forcing a small smile. "You deserve it."
But inside, he felt a dull ache. Not jealousy. Not resentment. Just… emptiness. A fear he couldn't explain — fear of being left behind, of standing still while everyone moved forward.
"Don't overthink, man," Ravi said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've got that fire. Quiet… but real. You'll make it."
They embraced — a brotherly hug. A goodbye before paths began to diverge.
---
Balcony Sunset | Few Weeks Later
A soft breeze rustled the trees beyond the balcony as Arjun stood silently, watching the sun melt behind the hills. The sky turned shades of orange and crimson, painting a fading picture of yet another day.
His grandfather stepped beside him, placing a wrinkled hand on his shoulder.
"It's your journey now," he said gently. "Ravi had his road. You have yours. Don't compare. Just walk your path, Arjun."
"I will, Dada," Arjun replied, voice calm but weighted with determination.
His eyes remained fixed on the horizon — looking ahead, but thinking of what was already slipping behind.
---
Ride to Kolhapur
The next morning was crisp and fresh, with dew still clinging to the leaves. Arjun packed his small duffel bag carefully, making sure to tuck in a bouquet of white lilies — Sonal's favorite.
It was her birthday today.
He had been trying to reach her all week. Messages went unread. Calls unanswered. He told himself she was just busy — projects, meetings, deadlines. But a quiet unease sat in his chest like a stone.
Still, hope persisted. Perhaps he could surprise her.
He secured the bouquet, zipped up the bag, and stepped outside. His old Royal Enfield Bullet waited patiently, shining faintly in the morning sun. He kicked it to life and began his long ride to Kolhapur — the wind in his face, thoughts in his head, and memories in his heart.
---
Flashback – Rooftop Café | Rainy Evening
They sat in a quiet rooftop café under a wooden shelter. The rain fell softly, tapping the roof in a rhythmic lullaby.
"For someone who rarely talks," Sonal said, stirring her coffee, "you say a lot through silence."
Arjun smiled faintly. "I was taught to observe more than speak."
She laughed — not just at his words, but at who he was. Strong, composed, steady. A man who didn't chase attention, yet commanded respect.
She felt safe around him. But both their hearts had walls. She was guarded, cautious. And he… was afraid of loss.
---
2:00 PM – Kolhapur Construction Site
After a long, tiring seven-hour ride, Arjun arrived at the Brain Pharma site.
He removed his helmet, straightened his jacket, and walked toward the site office — bouquet still intact.
A worker looked up and greeted him casually.
"Sir, Ma'am and Mr. Brian went to Goa. It's her birthday… celebration trip."
His heart sank. He stood still for a moment, bouquet still in his hand, fingers tightening slightly.
He nodded wordlessly, turned around, and walked back to his bike. No confrontation. No questions.
He sat down beneath a large banyan tree nearby, overlooking the calm river.
He stared at the water, unmoving. The weight of rejection sat heavier than the flowers in his hand.
But somewhere in his heart, he felt it wasn't just heartbreak anymore.
Something else… something darker… was taking shape.
---
Flashback – Kashyap Mansion Project Briefing
The drawing room of the Kashyap mansion was filled with rich, formal energy. Aditya Roy Kashyap stood at the center, hosting a high-profile meeting with international pharma executives.
Brian Welling — tall, charming, articulate — addressed the room with confidence.
"I want to build a pharma line in India. Clean, fast, innovative. I need a strong local team."
Later, Aditya turned to Sonal. "Brian's investing near Kolhapur. You'll handle the project from our side."
Sonal's eyes flickered. "Brian Welling… he was my senior in university."
"All the more reason for smooth collaboration," Aditya smiled.
She didn't protest.
---
Next Day – Project Launch Meet
Brian walked into the SK Office like he owned the air around him — friendly, magnetic, effortlessly confident.
"Sonal! You haven't changed a bit," he laughed, hugging her. "Still the same unstoppable hurricane, huh?"
"Business keeps you young," she replied, smiling politely.
But Arjun had noticed — something in her smile had changed. It wasn't warmth… it was professionalism now. Polished. Formal.
Brian was brilliant — no doubt. But Sonal's eyes, every now and then, betrayed a flicker of disconnection.
She was slipping into a different world — one of champagne toasts, evening meetings, foreign investments… and distance.
And Arjun… remained silent, watching from the shadows.
---
Present – 11:00 PM | Construction Site
Arjun was still at the site, seated on a rock near the equipment shed, eating dry snacks he carried from home. The workers had left. The wind had quieted.
Suddenly, headlights flashed in the distance.
A black truck rolled in from the rear side of the construction zone — unusual, unannounced.
Arjun narrowed his eyes. A group of unfamiliar workers jumped off the truck, quickly unloading large crates. Their movements were swift, precise… almost rehearsed.
Then came something more alarming — two men, armed and alert, casually patrolling around the truck.
This wasn't construction material.
Arjun crouched behind a stack of cement bags, pulled out his phone, and started clicking photos discreetly. But it was too dark. The images came out blurry.
Still, he kept clicking. Something told him — this wasn't legal.
After about 30 minutes, the crates were loaded back. The truck drove away silently, taking the gunmen with it.
He checked the photos again. Most were unclear.
Except one.
A single label on one box was somewhat visible:
"ROXX"
He didn't know what ROXX was. But his gut screamed trouble. This wasn't pharma. It wasn't legal. And it certainly wasn't normal.
His phone battery blinked red. Network was weak. He tried calling Sonal again. No answer.
His fingers curled into fists.
Something dark was unfolding under the guise of business. And he was standing at its edge — unknowingly dragged into a storm.
He started his bike again, the engine roaring to life.
And he rode back toward Pune…
with heartbreak in his chest, suspicion in his eyes…
and one blurry clue in his pocket:
ROXX.