Authors pov
Two weeks.
Fourteen days that crawled instead of walking, dragging their shadows across the marble floors of the Paris hospital. Fourteen days where daylight felt like an insult and nights felt like punishment.
Two weeks… and it still felt like all of them were locked inside the moment Arjun went missing. As if time had folded itself around that single event and refused to move forward.
Kabir healed first. His ribs still ached, his left wrist still twinged, but the doctors finally stopped hovering around him like anxious crows. Riya healed slower. The bruises along her side were a map of the accident, purple fading to sickly yellow. Her migraines came and went like storms.
But Sona…
Sona wasn't healing.
She was coming undone.
The doctors spoke in hushed voices whenever they passed her door. The nurses walked slower around her room, like her grief might reach out and strangle them if they moved too fast. Even the monitors beeped softer, as if intimidated by the raw, unfiltered ache that lived inside her.
Her body might have survived the crash.
But something else hadn't.
Her cries were the worst.
They weren't loud or dramatic or attention-seeking. They were broken, little shuddering exhales that sounded like a heart learning how to mourn itself. They carried through the corridors, those small sounds, echoing against sterile white walls until every patient on the floor knew her pain by name.
The doctors had to drug her.
The first time they did, Riya sobbed into her hands. Because Sona didn't fight the injection. She didn't scream or resist. She just stared at the ceiling, eyes glassy, and whispered one name over and over like a prayer turned curse.
"Arjun… Arjun… Arjun…"
She stopped eating.
Stopped drinking unless Riya forced her.
Stopped responding unless Kabir tried to gently shake her awake.
Her soul had narrowed down to one missing person.
And that kind of devotion scared them all.
Because two weeks had passed.
Two weeks and still no sign of him.
No call.
No ransom.
No body.
No clue.
Just silence.
A silence so sharp it sliced through hope.
The detectives began whispering theories they wouldn't say out loud near Sona.
The French police had already labelled it a "high-priority missing persons case."
Interpol had stepped in, thanks to Kabir's old connections.
But all of them were circling the same terrifying possibility:
Arjun was either dead…
Or in someone's hands who didn't plan to return him.
Riya sat outside Sona's room one morning, her back pressed against the cold wall, hands twisted into the sleeves of her sweater. The sun filtered in from the window beside her and she hated it. Hated how soft it looked when everything else in her life felt sharp.
Kabir stood across from her. His hair was longer now, uncut since the accident, curling slightly at the ends. The exhaustion sat in the hollows beneath his eyes, but he kept himself upright like the universe demanded he hold the roof up or it would collapse.
"Did she eat?" Kabir asked quietly.
Riya shook her head.
He asked again.
She shook her head again.
He sighed, a heavy sound that carried too much weight. "The doctors want to put her on nutritional IV."
"She'll tear it out." Riya rubbed her temples. "She already tore the last two."
Kabir's jaw tightened. "She'll die if she keeps this up."
"I know," Riya whispered. "I know, Kabir. But she doesn't care. You didn't see her earlier… She said if Arjun is gone, she doesn't see why she should stay either."
Kabir flinched like she'd slapped him. His hand gripped the railing beside him, knuckles whitening.
"She didn't mean it."
"She meant every word."
Silence stretched between them.
Not peaceful.
Not comfortable.
Just a jagged thing they had to breathe around.
"Two weeks," Riya whispered again, voice cracking. "Two weeks, Kabir. It feels like a nightmare none of us can wake from."
He didn't respond, because he couldn't.
He didn't have any words left.
He had run out four days ago.
There was a nurse shift change. A trolley rolled by. Someone down the hall coughed. A heart monitor beeped in a room nearby.
Life kept happening in tiny motions, but none of them mattered.
Because in Room 419, Sona was curled on the hospital bed, knees pulled to her chest under the thin blanket. Her hair was messy, falling around her face like a curtain no one dared to pull back. Her fingers were cold. Her lips chapped.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were hollowed out ruins.
A doctor stood beside her with another sedative prepared, but even she hesitated.
Dr. Moreau turned to Riya. "She cannot continue like this. She is weakening by the day. Grief is complicating her trauma recovery."
Riya's voice wobbled. "You think we don't know that?"
The doctor softened. "We will try a lighter dosage today. And… therapy when she's stronger."
Kabir scoffed under his breath. Therapy? For a woman whose love disappeared without a trace? Therapy felt like giving a cup of water to someone standing in front of a burning house.
Still, they agreed.
The doctor entered Sona's room.
Sona didn't even look up.
Her lips just parted, cracked and fragile, and she whispered again:
"Arjun…"
Kabir leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, chest tight.
Riya pressed a fist to her mouth, trying not to break down.
Because somewhere in this city, somewhere under Paris skies that didn't give a damn, a man they loved was missing. And the girl who loved him most was bleeding herself out from the inside.
And two weeks felt like two lifetimes already.
The nurse adjusted the IV line.
The sedative flowed.
Sona's breathing slowed.
But even as sleep dragged her under, one tear escaped the corner of her eye.
And the last sound she made before unconsciousness pulled her away was a whisper so faint it was almost wind:
"Wait for me, Arjun."
The hospital discharged Kabir and Riya at the start of the third week. Their bodies were still tender maps of bruises and healing fractures, but the doctors agreed they were strong enough to recover at home.
Sona was not.
Her chart got thicker. Her vitals dropped lower. Her mind floated further and further from the shore everyone else stood on.
She had barely spoken in days.
Barely moved.
Barely existed.
The doctors started using terms that burned Kabir's ears.
"Psychological break."
"Trauma-induced catatonia."
"Severe depressive collapse."
"Possible institutionalization."
Mental asylum.
They said the word carefully, like it was wrapped in cotton. Like softness could hide the horror of it.
Riya had exploded first.
"She's not crazy!" she shouted at the doctor. "She's grieving. She's… she's just grieving!"
Kabir stood beside her, fists clenched so tight his nails dug crescents into his skin.
"Sona is not being sent anywhere," he growled. "She stays here. With us."
But the doctor only sighed with the kind of exhaustion born from too many hard conversations.
"Miss Roy's condition is deteriorating. She is refusing food, sleep, and treatment. Her mind is in a state of shock from both trauma and severe emotional loss. If this continues, her organs will begin shutting down."
Riya paled. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie like she needed something to keep her upright.
Kabir's throat tightened.
"Give us time," he said quietly. "Please."
The doctor hesitated. Then nodded.
"Two days. But if there is no improvement, we must transfer her."
Two days.
Two days to keep Sona from slipping into the dark permanently.
Two days to force hope into someone who'd bled it out of herself.
They returned to her room.
She hadn't moved.
Still curled small under the thin blanket, eyes unfocused, chest rising in shallow breaths that sounded too tired for someone her age. Her hair spilled over her face like tangled ink. Her lips were cracked. The collarbones visible. The bruises on her arms still fading, but the bruise on her heart had only deepened.
Riya sat at her bedside, voice trembling.
"Sona… please. Talk to me. Eat something. Drink something. Just… just look at me, okay? You can't leave us too…"
Sona blinked slowly. But she didn't respond.
Kabir stepped forward. He hated himself for the edge in his voice.
"Sona, if you don't fight, the hospital will take you away. You understand? They'll send you to a facility. Away from us. Away from Paris. Away from… from him."
Nothing.
Just a tiny rise and fall of her chest.
A ghost breathing.
Hours passed like that.
Day melted into night, but time might as well have stopped.
Riya cried quietly when she thought Kabir wasn't looking.
Kabir stared at the wall because staring at Sona hurt too much.
And then—
the world found a new way to shatter.
A nurse entered holding a tablet.
"There's news from India," she said softly. "It is about… Mr. Arjun Kapoor."
Kabir's heart slammed against his ribs.
Riya shot up, breath catching.
The nurse placed the tablet on the table and walked out.
Kabir clicked the article.
Within seconds, the color drained from both their faces.
ARJUN KAPOOR STILL MISSING.
Family of the missing businessman's son blames long-time rivals, the Roy family.
Mother claims "they took him to hurt us."
Investigation underway.
Threats exchanged between families escalate tensions once more.
Kabir looked at Riya.
Riya looked at him.
And then, slowly, terribly…
Sona looked up.
Her eyes shifted toward the glowing tablet like she was waking from a sedated coma. Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched.
She stared at the headline.
At Kapoor.
At Roy.
Blame.
Accusations.
Family rivalry reawakening like a monster rising from a forgotten pit.
Her pupils widened.
Her posture straightened.
Her heartbeat monitor began to beep faster.
"Sona?" Riya whispered. "Baby…?"
But Sona wasn't listening.
She was remembering.
All of it.
The years of rivalry.
The old threats.
The twisted history between their families.
The way every tragedy always circled back to the same poisonous root.
Her mind, fogged and sedated for days, ignited like someone struck a match.
Her breathing became sharp.
Focused.
Alive.
She snatched the tablet, eyes scanning the article so fast the device nearly blurred.
When she dropped it onto the sheets, she whispered:
"They think… I took him."
Kabir froze.
Riya swallowed. "Sona, don't listen to—"
"They think my family took him." Sona's voice grew steadier. Stronger. A blade sharpening itself. "They think… I hurt him."
Her hands curled into fists.
Kabir reached forward cautiously. "Sona, breathe. Just breathe. We'll fix this—"
Her laugh sliced through the air.
Cold.
Hollow.
Dangerous.
"I remember everything now."
Riya grabbed Kabir's arm, fear flickering in her eyes. "Sona—"
"Family rivalry," Sona whispered. "Of course. Of course. Everything was falling apart the moment he vanished. I should have seen it. I should have known."
Her body trembled, but not with grief.
With purpose.
"For years I watched him," she continued, voice steadying into something deadly calm. "Protected him. Followed him. Loved him."
Kabir's heart thudded painfully.
Riya's hands shook.
"And now he's missing."
Her eyes gleamed with something feral.
"And now they blame me."
She swung her legs off the bed, ripping off her IV without flinching. Blood trickled down her arm.
Kabir stepped forward. "Sona, wait—"
She ignored him.
She stood on trembling legs, but her posture was carved from stone.
Her exhaustion evaporated.
Her grief crystallized.
Her old self awakened, the one who had once watched Arjun from rooftops and alleys, unseen and uncatchable.
The Hunter.
The Shadow.
The Girl Who Never Let Go.
Sona lifted her chin, eyes sharp and burning with a frightening clarity.
"Arjun," she murmured, voice curling like smoke.
Then she smirked.
A slow, haunting curl of lips that made Riya whisper a trembling prayer and Kabir's stomach drop.
"I'm coming for you," she said.
And the machines in the room beeped wildly behind her, as if even they sensed the storm she had just become.