Pratap Singh Villa — Late Night
Kiaan finally returned to the villa, exhausted but safe. Bhoomi and Susheela were waiting in the foyer, worry etched across their faces.
The moment they saw him, both women rushed forward.
"Kiaan!" Bhoomi exclaimed, wrapping him in a fierce embrace. "Mera bacha… you're safe!"
Susheela held him from the other side, stroking his hair gently. "Don't ever scare us like that again, beta."
Kiaan buried his face into their warmth, feeling some of the tension of the night melt away.
Bhoomi pulled back slightly, her eyes widening as she noticed the dark stains on his clothes. "What happened? Why are your clothes like this?" Her voice carried equal parts concern and alarm.
Kiaan hesitated, chewing his lip. Finally, his small voice broke the silence.
"I… I was almost hit by a truck."
The words hung in the air. Shock flashed across every face.
Susheela gasped, taking a step closer. "Oh my God, beta… you could have been hurt!"
Yuvaan, who had just reached the foyer, froze for a moment as he took in the sight of his son—disheveled, frightened, yet safe. He quickly moved forward, kneeling slightly to meet Kiaan's eyes.
"You're okay," he murmured, voice soft and heavy with relief. He gently touched Kiaan's shoulder, ensuring the boy was present and breathing. "You're really okay…"
Kiaan nodded, trembling slightly, the memory of the street and the speeding truck still vivid in his mind.
Bhoomi's hand found his shoulder again, gripping it firmly. "Beta, you must never put yourself in such danger again. Do you understand?"
Kiaan's small voice was shaky, but firm. "I… I understand, Dadi."
Yuvaan's gaze softened as he looked at his son, the relief in his chest overwhelming the lingering tension. No anger, no scolding—just the raw need to keep his child safe.
For a moment, the villa was quiet, filled only with the soft breaths of relief, the gentle comfort of family. In the darkness of the night, Kiaan was home, and that was all that mattered.
The room was tense, filled with a mix of relief and residual fear after Kiaan's narrow escape. Rani stepped forward, her face calm, concern painted delicately across her features.
"Kiaan… are you alright? That was dangerous," she said softly, moving closer, voice carefully measured.
Kiaan didn't look at her. His small hand shot forward, trembling slightly, and he demanded, "Give me back my phone."
Rani blinked in surprise, a hint of irritation flashing through her composed expression. "Your phone? What do you mean?"
Meera stepped forward, voice sharp, confusion in her tone. "Kiaan… what are you implying?"
The boy's eyes narrowed, his voice rising just enough to shake the air around him. "You! You're the one who wanted me to meet an accident!"
The words hit the room like a sudden, cold gust. Every face stiffened, shock spreading like wildfire.
Rani's smile faltered for a fraction of a second—enough for Kiaan to notice—but then she recovered, tilting her head innocently. "I… what are you talking about?"
Meera's eyes widened. "Kiaan! That's a serious accusation! What makes you say such a thing?"
Kiaan's small chest heaved, fear and anger mingling as he pointed toward Rani again. "Because… I know! My phone fell when the truck came, and you—someone—must have picked it up. You wanted me hurt!"
The room fell into stunned silence. Yuvaan's gaze hardened, but his voice remained steady. "Kiaan… let's not jump to conclusions. There's no reason to believe that Rani would want you hurt."
But Kiaan didn't relent. His voice cracked with frustration and hurt. "I saw everything! You… you tried to hurt me!"
The words hung between them, heavy and sharp. Meera's hand flew to her mouth, disbelief etched across her face. Aakash remained calm, though his eyes flickered with concern, silently urging reason.
Even in that charged, tense room, Kiaan's small frame radiated fierce certainty—an unyielding conviction that no one seemed willing to accept.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Only the weight of his accusation lingered, slow and sharp, a storm barely held at bay.
---
The air in the room was thick with tension, lingering fear from the earlier accident still palpable. Kiaan's small frame trembled, not entirely from cold, but from the storm of emotions inside him—fear, anger, and the desperate need to be believed.
Aakash stepped closer, his voice calm, steady, like an anchor in the chaos. "Kiaan… tell me why you think Rani would want to hurt you. You need to explain yourself."
Kiaan's eyes, wide and burning with conviction, fixed on Rani. "Because… because she had my phone! And she knows what's on it!"
Rani tilted her head, her tone soft, measured, the perfect mask of innocence. "I was asleep. I didn't even know what was happening until everyone started searching for you. Kiaan… you're imagining things."
Kiaan's small fists clenched. "You're lying!" His voice was sharp, raw, the honesty of a nine-year-old's anger cutting through the room. "I saw it! You… you tried to hurt me!"
Yuvaan stepped forward, placing a careful hand on Kiaan's shoulder. His voice was steady, patient, though firm. "Kiaan… stop. You're misunderstanding Rani. Why would she want to hurt you—or take your phone?"
Kiaan pulled back slightly, voice trembling but unwavering. "Because… because that phone… it has proof. Proof of her… of who she really is!"
Meera's brow furrowed, shock and confusion flickering across her face. "What do you mean, Kiaan? What are you saying?"
The boy's small frame straightened, determination hardening his features. "Rani… she's not normal. She's… she's a vampire. A witch. A pishachini."
A heavy silence fell. Eyes widened. Mouths opened slightly. Even Rani's perfectly maintained composure wavered for a brief second, just enough to make Kiaan's heart hammer.
Yuvaan's voice cut through the stillness, calm but resolute. "Kiaan… we've already tested this. Rani underwent every possible check. Nothing showed she's supernatural. You need to drop this topic. Now."
Kiaan's eyes flashed with frustration, hurt, and disbelief. "I recorded her! I have proof! I saw her!"
Yuvaan shook his head slowly, dismissing the claim with finality. "Kiaan… I can't accept that. You're letting fear cloud your judgment."
Kiaan's small body trembled. His chest heaved as tears threatened to spill. "If you… if you can't trust me, Papa… then maybe… maybe even your love is fake."
With that, he turned sharply and stormed toward the stairs, his small footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving a room heavy with shock, confusion, and unspoken questions.
The faint whisper of a door closing behind him felt like the echo of a growing rift.
---
To be continued…