Chapter 40: Friends reach

Chapter 40: Friends reach


The rain lashed angrily against the city, as though echoing the urgency brewing in Tara’s chest. She sat in a quiet café in South Mumbai, her fingers trembling slightly as she tapped them against the porcelain mug of untouched coffee. Across the table, Samay’s brows were furrowed in silent contemplation, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins on his neck pulsed visibly. Neither had spoken in the last ten minutes, the weight of the risk they were about to take hanging like an invisible noose around their necks.
“She’s still there,” Tara whispered finally, her voice cracking. “I know she is. Raaz wouldn’t let her go. He’s keeping her trapped like some... some prisoner in his golden palace.”
Samay leaned in, his voice low, urgent. “We can’t wait any longer. We’ve wasted days hoping someone—anyone—would help. The police won’t move without evidence. No one wants to touch Raaz Singh. We’re on our own.”
Tara’s eyes filled with determined tears. “Then we find a way inside. We send her a message, something. Let her know we’re coming. She can’t give up.”
“But how?” Samay asked, voice taut with frustration. “His mansion is a fortress. Every exit is guarded. Staff members are loyal to him. Or terrified.”
“Not all of them,” Tara murmured, a sudden flicker of hope sparking in her chest. “Remember Meenal?”
Samay blinked. “yes, but she is only a maid”
Tara nodded quickly. “She was the one who brought Aanya’s clothes that day. The only one who didn’t look... hollow. I saw it in her eyes—fear, yes, but also kindness.”
Samay’s grip on his coffee cup tightened. “If we can convince her—”
“I already did,” Tara interrupted, pulling a small folded paper from her jacket. “I called the shelter under a fake name. Told them I wanted to donate some clothes. Meenal answered the phone. I asked to meet her.”
Samay’s eyes widened. “And?”
“She’s agreed to take the note to Aanya. But she said this is the last time she’ll be able to do something like this. She’s being watched. Closely.”
Samay looked at the note Tara had written—delicately folded and sealed inside a thin wrapper, made to look like part of a fabric label. The message was simple but vital.
“Aanya, we’re coming for you. Stay strong. We’ll be near the south wing wall at midnight tomorrow. Watch for the signal. - T & S”
It wasn’t much. But it was hope.

That evening, in the dimly lit corridor of Raaz Singh’s mansion, Meenal moved quietly, her soft steps muffled by the luxurious rugs that stretched down the marble hallway. Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she passed two guards by the main entrance, lowering her eyes in obedience.
In her pocket was the note. Small. Dangerous. Heavy with risk.
She reached the door of the room where Aanya was confined and knocked gently. “Madam,” she said, voice practiced and meek. “I’ve brought your shawl. It was left outside to dry.”
There was no reply. Slowly, Meenal pushed the door open. Aanya was sitting by the window, arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes hollow from too many sleepless nights. She looked up, startled, as Meenal stepped in and quietly shut the door behind her.
“It’s just me,” Meenal whispered. “No one else.”
Aanya frowned, puzzled, until her gaze fell on the bundle in Meenal’s hands. Meenal approached slowly, knelt beside her, and in a motion so subtle it would have gone unnoticed by any camera, slipped the fabric-wrapped note into her palm.
Aanya’s fingers closed around it instinctively.
“There’s no time,” Meenal murmured, her voice trembling. “They’re watching everything. Read it when no one is looking. Hide it well.”
Aanya’s voice cracked as she whispered, “Why are you helping me?”
Meenal’s eyes flicked to the ceiling. “I had a sister once. She died because no one helped her. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Aanya’s throat tightened with tears. “Thank you.”
Meenal stood. “Tomorrow night. South wing. Midnight. That’s all I can tell you.”
Then, with the same quiet grace, she turned and walked out.
Aanya waited until the click of the door faded into silence. Then, trembling, she unwrapped the note and read the familiar handwriting.
Her hands covered her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. They hadn’t abandoned her. Tara. Samay. They were coming.
A thread of hope wrapped itself around her heart.

Elsewhere in the mansion, Raaz stood in front of a grand mirror in his room, adjusting the cuff of his black silk shirt. Yash entered quietly, carrying a tablet showing footage from the mansion’s surveillance system.
“Meenal visited her,” Yash said. “Too long for a simple delivery.”
Raaz’s eyes narrowed. “Check her movements after she leaves the room. And check the cameras inside.”
“There are blind spots,” Yash warned. “You said not to install any inside Aanya’s room.”
Raaz’s jaw clenched. “Then keep a closer eye on Meenal. If she slips again... you know what to do.”
Yash nodded, understanding the silent threat.

That night, Aanya barely slept. Her mind was a battlefield of fear and hope. What if it was a trap? What if Raaz already knew? What if Samay and Tara were caught?
But she had no choice. She couldn’t spend another day inside this prison, living on the mercy of a man who claimed to love her yet controlled her every breath.
She hid the note inside the pages of an old book and prepared for tomorrow. Her heart ached at the thought of seeing them again—even if it was just a glimpse before she ran for her life.
Outside her window, the moon rose behind thick clouds.
The countdown had begun.

The night was still, thick with the hush of sleeping shadows. The grandeur of Raaz Singh’s villa, with its marbled hallways and vaulted ceilings, stood eerily silent under the velvet sky. The guards stationed outside lounged lazily, unaware that their every breath might be their last in consciousness tonight.

Meenal stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she stirred the hot soup meant for the guards’ dinner. The sachet Tara had slipped her earlier—fine white powder wrapped in paper—now floated silently into the broth. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stirred, the spoon clinking against the edges of the steel vessel, her ears trained on the faintest sound that might signal someone walking in.

She glanced at the clock. Raaz had left just thirty minutes ago, accompanied by Yash for an emergency meeting. They didn’t say when they would be back, but every passing second counted now.

In a dark alley not far from the estate, Tara and Samay waited with bated breath behind a parked SUV. Samay had mapped the outer perimeter earlier—identifying the blind spots in the security camera coverage. It was a tight window, but if they moved fast and Meenal did her part, they could get Aanya out of the villa and into the car within ten minutes.

Tara clutched the walkie-talkie nervously. “Meenal, any update?” she whispered.

Meenal responded in a hushed tone, “Guards are eating now. Five minutes… they’ll start feeling dizzy. Be ready.”

Back inside, Aanya sat by the small window in her locked bedroom, her fingers tracing the lines of the letter Samay had passed her the night before. Her eyes were red from days of crying, but tonight, hope flickered behind the exhaustion. Meenal had slipped the key to her room earlier in the laundry pile.

She held it tightly in her palm.

The click of the lock turning was soft, but to her it sounded like thunder. As she cracked open the door and peeked out into the hallway, Meenal was already waiting.

“Come,” she whispered. “Quickly.”

Aanya followed her barefoot, her heart thudding violently. The guards slumped at their posts, some with bowls still in their hands, snoring deeply.

Tara and Samay were already at the garden gate. Samay’s face lit up with emotion when he saw Aanya approach, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

“We’re here, Aanya. You’re safe now. We’ll get you out of this hell,” Tara whispered, hugging her.

They made it to the outer gates. Samay started the car’s engine, while Tara opened the back door. Aanya scrambled in.

Just then—

Screech.

The blinding headlights of another vehicle lit up the driveway. Raaz’s black Jaguar skidded to a stop at the entrance, gravel flying.

Raaz jumped out, his coat flaring behind him like the wings of a demon descending.

His eyes locked on Aanya’s terrified face through the car window.

“NO!” he bellowed, voice laced with betrayal and rage.

Samay tried to reverse, but the villa’s guards—startled awake by the headlights and Raaz’s arrival—ran in with weapons drawn. Some were groggy but managed to block the rear path.

Aanya screamed as Raaz wrenched the car door open and pulled her out. “RAAZ! Let me go!” she shouted, kicking and fighting.

He said nothing, his face a terrifying mask of fury. His arms clamped around her like iron. “You were running away from me? After everything?”

“I can’t live in a cage!” she cried, sobbing. “This isn’t love—it’s obsession.”

Samay and Tara leapt from the car, trying to reach her.

Yash, who had just exited the car, stepped forward. “Raaz, let’s not make a scene—”

But Raaz shoved him aside. “Take them!” he barked. “I’ll deal with them later.”

Tara screamed as the guards dragged her and Samay back. Meenal tried to slip away, but Yash caught her wrist.

“You betrayed him too,” he whispered. “Bad move.”

Raaz carried Aanya in his arms, her fists pounding against his chest. He didn’t flinch.

Inside, he took her straight back to the same room. The lights flickered. The night was thick with the smell of betrayal.

Aanya slumped to the floor as he locked the door again.

Outside the door, Raaz stood breathing hard, forehead against the wood.

“She still tried to leave…” he whispered, his voice broken. “Then I’ll make sure she never wants to again.”