3 Months Later.
Rahul and Isha were not "Rahul Malhotra" and "scholarship girl" anymore.
Now it was: "Rahul, where are my notes?" and "Isha, grandma sent carrot halwa for you."
We studied together at the library's corner table. The same table where he first paid my fine. Now it was "our" table. The librarian aunty stopped asking for ID. She just smiled when we came together.
We fought over the last samosa in the canteen. He would buy two, eat one, and leave the second on my notebook like it was an accident. I would pretend to scold him: "Rich people waste food." He would reply: "Poor people lecture too much." Then we both would laugh.
He taught me Excel for our project. His fingers were fast on the keyboard. Mine were slow. He never said "you're slow". He just put his hand on mine and guided. "See, CTRL + S. Learn to save. Your hard work should not get wasted."
I taught him how to bargain with the vegetable vendor near college. He once paid 200 for coriander. I dragged him back. Made the vendor return 180. Rahul's eyes were wide. "You fought for 180 rupees?" I said, "My mother fights for 5 rupees. Respect that." He didn't laugh. He just said, "Teach me again tomorrow."
His friends called me "Malhotra's charity project" behind my back. Tanya especially. "New toy. He will throw her after semester." I heard it outside the washroom. I wanted to run.
Next day, Rahul stopped inviting them home for group study.
Tanya: "Why not at your place? Your house is big."
Rahul: "My house. My rules. We study in the library now."
He didn't look at me. But I knew.
My mother asked one night while making roti, "Who is this Rahul? You take his name all the time. Yes Rahul, no Rahul."
I froze. "Classmate. Project partner."
Mother's eyes were sharp. "Who sends halwa for a classmate, child?"
I had no answer. Because grandma really sent halwa. Every Tuesday. "For Isha. She is too thin."
I said, "Mother, he... is good. Just a friend."
Mother stopped kneading dough. "Stay away from the 'just friends' of rich people. When hearts break, money does not fix them."
I nodded. But my heart didn't listen.
We were friends. Good friends. The kind where silence is not awkward. The kind where he knew I hated bottle gourd, so the canteen guy never served it when we sat together. The kind where I knew he didn't sleep before 3 AM, so I sent him stupid memes at 2:59 AM just so he would smile.
*Today was Diwali break.* College closed at 4 PM. Campus was empty. Only Diwali lights on trees.
Rahul was leaning on his car. White Audi today. Black BMW in service.
Rahul: "Grandma said you should come for dinner today. She made special kheer for you. She said 'Diwali is incomplete without Isha'."
His grandma. Mrs. Gayatri Malhotra. 80 years old. Spine straight. Eyes sharper than Rahul's. She met me once when I went to return Rahul's USB. She held my hand. "Child, your hands are hands of hard work. My Rahul's hands are hands of money. The balance is right." I didn't understand then.
Me: "Rahul, I cannot come daily. People will talk. Tanya already calls me gold-digger. Ananya says I do black magic. Next they will say I hypnotized you."
Rahul kicked a stone. "Let her. My grandma is 80. She likes you. What Tanya likes doesn't matter. What I like matters."
He said it so casually. Like my presence in his mansion was normal. Like I wasn't a scholarship kid in his world of diamonds.
I smiled. For the first time in 20 years, I felt I belonged somewhere outside my 1BHK house.
Me: "I am not coming. Mother is waiting. We have pooja at home tomorrow. Mother said wear clean clothes, go out only after pooja."
Rahul: "Fine. But I am dropping you. No argument. It's Diwali. Traffic is bad. Not safe."
Me: "Drop me two lanes before. That's also no argument. If mother sees, she will fix my marriage."
He laughed. Real laugh. Not his business-meeting laugh. "Deal. Two lanes before. But you owe me one kheer visit after Diwali."
Me: "Deal accepted, boss."
*5:30 PM. Ring Road.*
Diwali traffic was madness. Cars honking. Bikes cutting lanes. Roadside stalls selling Chinese lights and fireworks. Air smelled like petrol and marigold.
Rahul: "I hate Diwali traffic. Takes 2 hours for a 20 minute road. Time waste. Money waste."
Me: "I love it. Look at all the lights. We have 4 diyas at home. Made by mother. Here the whole road is shining. Like stars came to earth."
He didn't reply. He looked at me. Not at lights. At me. His grey eyes were soft. No Malhotra heir arrogance. Just... Rahul.
Rahul: "Next year, you come to our house. We will light 400 diyas. On the terrace. Grandma and you together. I will just watch you two."
My heart did something stupid. Jumped, then fell, then forgot to beat. This was not friend talk. This was not "classmate" talk. This was... something else. Something mother warned me about.
I looked out the window to hide my burning face. "We will see next year. Just drop me home now."
That's when I saw it. A black Scorpio. Tinted glass. No number plate. It was 3 cars behind us. Then 2 cars. Then 1. Changing lanes with us.
Me: "Rahul, that Scorpio... it's been behind us. Since the canteen red light."
Rahul's jaw tightened. He checked the rearview mirror. His voice changed in 1 second. Friend Rahul was gone. Malhotra heir was back. Cold. Alert. CEO voice.
Rahul: "Hmm. Noticed. Since 2 red lights ago. Same speed. Same lane change."
Me: "Who is it?"
Rahul: "Isha, tighten seat belt. Switch off phone. Now. And stay silent, no matter what happens. Not one word."
Me: "What do you mean? Who are they? Should we call police?"
Rahul: "Business rivalry. Happens. Father's competitors. They won't do anything in crowd. Too many cameras. Too many people. They are just scaring us."
But traffic cleared as we hit Lajpat Nagar flyover. 6 lanes, empty. Because of Diwali everyone was home. Only us. And Scorpio.
Scorpio accelerated. Came parallel. Window down. 3 men. Face covered with black cloth. Only eyes visible. And one man... silver tooth. He smiled at me.
One threw something. Iron rod with spikes. _THUD_. Our front left tyre burst. Car jerked violently.
Rahul controlled the steering with both hands. His knuckles white. Face calm. Too calm.
Rahul: "Burst. Isha, run when I say run. Towards metro station left side. Don't look back. Just run to crowd."
Before I could unbuckle, Scorpio stopped ahead. Blocked us. 2 men got out. Big. Tattoos.
Rahul jumped out too. "Isha, lock the car! NOW!"
I locked. My hands shaking so bad I pressed lock 3 times.
Through the window I saw Rahul. No fear. He stood between me and them.
Man 1 ran at him. Rahul sidestepped. One punch to throat. Man down, gasping.
Man 2 came. Rahul kicked his knee. Crack sound. Man screamed.
He was trained. MMA? Boxing? I didn't know this Rahul.
But Silver Tooth was smart. He didn't come close. He pulled something from his jacket. Taser. Police type.
_ZAP_. Blue light. Rahul's body convulsed. He fell on road. On his knees first. Then face down.
My scream died in my throat. Behind the glass.
Silver Tooth looked at me through glass. Tapped window. Smiled. "Rich man's pet. Get her out."
He broke the window with the same spiked rod. Glass exploded. On my lap. On my arms. Cut. Hand grabbed my hair. Pulled.
I kicked the dashboard. Scratched his hand. Nails bled. "RAHUL!! SOMEBODY HELP!!"
Rahul was moving. Trying to get up. Blood on his white shirt. From mouth or head.
Rahul: "ISHA!!! LEAVE HER!!!" His voice broken but loud.
A cloth on my nose. Sweet. Chemical. Chloroform. My eyes heavy. Limbs dead.
Last thing I heard: Rahul shouting my name like it was the last word in the world. Then car door slam. Then engine.
*I woke up.*
Dark. Smell of wet mud and rotten leaves. Crickets. So many crickets. No car sound. No city sound. No Diwali bombs.
My hands tied with plastic rope. Tight. Cutting skin. Mouth taped with silver tape. Legs free but numb.
I was on ground. Wet leaves under me. Tree roots poking my back. Above me... trees. So tall I couldn't see sky. Only black.
_Jungle_. Empty jungle. Near Delhi?
My head was bursting. From chloroform or from hitting something. Where was I? Arajpur? Sanjay Van? Bhati Mines? The jungle near Gurgaon?
Footsteps. Leaves crushing. 3 men. Silver Tooth leading. Others behind. All had torch.
Silver Tooth kicked my leg. "Up. Boss wants to see the goods are okay."
Man 2: "Boss said kidnap the girl, Malhotra will bow. Will drop the tender in share market. But she looks normal. Salwar suit. Old phone. Why would Malhotra bow for her? We should have taken Tanya."
Silver Tooth: "Don't know. But boss said keep her alive. Give food. No injury. Malhotra will get video call. Then deal. 500 crore tender. This girl's price is 500 crore."
Deal. 500 crore. I was a deal. Not Isha. Not student. Not daughter. Just a thing to make Rahul bow. To make his father lose business.
I thought of Rahul. Was he alive? People die from taser. Did he see them take me? Did he run behind car?
I thought of grandma's kheer. Would it go waste tonight? I thought of "next year 400 diyas". Would there be no next year?
Tears fell. Hot. Over the tape. Tape itching.
Silver Tooth bent down. Ripped my tape off in one go. Skin burned.
Silver Tooth: "Scream. Scream all you want. No one will hear. No village for 50 km. No tower. Only ghosts. They will like your voice."
I didn't scream. My throat was dry. I asked, first word since waking up, "Rahul... is he alive? Tell the truth."
He laughed. Ugly sound. Like crow. "Rich boy? Must be dead. Taser + 3 men + fell on road. Car also left. You are alone. Cry. Scream. No Malhotra is coming."
But I didn't cry.
Because for the first time in my 20 years, I was scared not for me. Not for my marks. Not for my fees.
I was scared for him.
My friend. My Rahul. Who noticed me when I had 73 rupees and different sandals.
Who fought 3 men for me with blood on his shirt.
Who said "next year 400 diyas".
I looked at dark jungle. At silver tooth. At my tied hands.
And I promised, in my head, to me: "I will not be a charity case again. I will not be a 500 crore deal. I will fight. I am Isha. I bargain with vegetable vendor. I will bargain with death too."
Somewhere far, an owl called. _Hoo. Hoo._
Diwali night had begun in the city. Lights. Laughs. Kheer.
But for me, it was dark. And cold. And the start of something.
Author Note:
Isha kidnapped. For a 500 CRORE deal đź’”
Will Rahul find her? Is she just a pawn in business war?
If you are reading this, please do 2 things....
1. "Add to Library" - So you don't miss Ch-3. Rahul's revenge mode starts tomorrow.
2. "Comment 🔥" - Should Isha escape alone or wait for Rahul? Your vote decides Ch-3 plot!
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