The rain hadn’t stopped since late evening. It was well past 10 PM now, and the highway between Nashik and Mumbai had turned into a blur of flickering lights, drowned wipers, and dangerous puddles.
Hadi tightened his grip on the steering wheel of his black SUV, jaw clenched as the rain battered against the windshield. His headlights had given up hours ago, water having seeped inside when he crossed a flooded patch near Igatpuri. All he had were the faint red tail lights of the occasional truck ahead and his instincts.
He was exhausted. The business meeting in Nashik had drained every ounce of his patience. Three days of back-to-back negotiations, egos, and technical arguments. All he wanted now was to be home, in the warmth of his room, beside Lubna and their baby boy Zohan.
The thought of his small family brought a small sigh to his lips. Lubna must be asleep by now... he thought. He imagined her wrapped in the maroon shawl she always used when he was away. That image pushed him to keep going.
Thunder cracked above him, sharp and sudden.
Then, without warning—
A figure.
Right in the middle of the road.
White.
Sudden.
Rain-blurred.
"Ya Allah!" Hadi shouted, slamming the brakes.
Too late.
THUD.
The sound was sickening. His SUV jolted violently. The figure, a person, was thrown into the air and landed meters away on the soaked highway.
Hadi sat frozen for a heartbeat.
His chest tightened. His breath caught in his throat.
Then it hit him. He had hit someone. A human being.
"Ya Allah... kya kar diya maine?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
(Oh God... what have I done?)
He flung the door open, boots hitting the wet asphalt with a splash. Rain hit his face like needles as he stumbled toward the figure, his breath ragged, hands trembling violently.
As he approached, the sight made his knees weak.
A girl.
She lay motionless in a pool of muddy water and blood.
Her dress had once been white. Now it was soaked crimson, sticky with blood, from her head, her side, her shoulder. He couldn’t even tell where all the injuries were.
"Listen... can you hear me? Open your eyes!" Hadi shouted, kneeling beside her.
His voice cracked with fear.
He touched her shoulder gently, then her cheek.
No response.
"I... I'm taking you... nothing will happen to you..." he muttered, trying to convince both her and himself.
He reached into his pocket for his phone.
No network.
Of course. The storm. The highway.
He cursed under his breath, then bent forward and gently gathered her in his arms.
She was light.
Frail.
"Just don't close your eyes... stay alive... please..." he pleaded.
Her eyelids fluttered, barely.
He rushed back to the car, placing her gently across the back seat.
The drive to the nearest city felt endless. His eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror. Her chest was rising and falling, barely. Her lips were pale.
"I'm here... I won't let anything happen to you..." he kept saying, knuckles white against the wheel.
Rain kept pounding. Horns blared. He drove like a madman, headlights off, guided only by prayer and fear.
Finally, glowing green signage emerged from the rain:
Sahyadri City Hospital - 24x7 Emergency.
He swerved into the driveway, tires screeching.
Leaping out, he shouted: "Koi hai?! Stretcher lao! Jaldi!"
(Is anyone here?! Get a stretcher! Hurry!)
A group of hospital staff rushed forward.
"Accident case! Girl, critical condition!" He barked, helping them lift her.
They wheeled her in. One nurse kept asking questions. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know her name. Her age. Anything.
He stood in the waiting area, soaked, shivering, blood on his shirt, his heart thundering in his ears.
And the only thing that rang in his head, louder than the storm outside, was: Main kis musibat mein phans gaya hoon...
(What kind of trouble have I gotten myself into...)
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Hadi stood leaning against the cold hospital wall, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease. The sterile smell of antiseptic stung his nose, mixing with the metallic scent of dried blood on his shirt. The air around him buzzed with distant voices and the occasional clatter of medical trolleys. He was lost in a daze when a white-coated doctor rushed out of the emergency room.
"Patient's family?" the doctor called out, looking around urgently.
Hadi straightened and stepped forward hesitantly.
"Who are you to the patient?" the doctor asked, his eyes scanning Hadi suspiciously.
Words lodged in Hadi’s throat. His heart pounded. His mind screamed I HIT HER. But he could only manage a whisper, “I... I’m not family. I just found her.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He signaled a nurse nearby. “Find out the patient’s details. Contact her family immediately.”
Hadi’s lips trembled as he asked, barely above a whisper, “What… what has happened to her? Is she okay?”
The doctor’s face turned grim. “The patient is in a very critical condition. She has suffered severe head trauma, internal bleeding around the abdominal area, and possible fractures in her arm and left leg. We need her family's immediate consent for surgery.”
Hadi felt the breath knocked out of him. His vision swam for a moment as panic surged. Before he could process more, the doctor was called back into the emergency room.
Hadi sank onto a bench outside, his hands trembling in his lap, unable to stop rubbing his palms together. The minutes dragged into hours.
Eventually, the nurse returned. “We managed to reach her uncle. He’s on the way.”
A sliver of relief pierced through Hadi’s fog of dread. Someone was coming.
An hour later, the hallway outside the emergency room grew tense. Staff hurried in and out with serious expressions. Hadi looked up every few seconds, his heart caught in a loop of hope and guilt.
Then a nurse appeared, calling for the doctor. “Sir, the patient’s uncle has arrived.”
Hadi followed the nurse into the waiting area, where a man in his fifties stood. He looked weary and out of place, dressed in crumpled clothes stained from travel, likely from a small village. His face was lined with exhaustion but not concern.
The doctor began to explain the girl’s condition again. Hadi listened, feeling every word tighten around his chest.
But her uncle's expression didn’t change. There was no flicker of worry. No questions. No urgency.
After explaining the situation, the doctor handed the consent form to him. As soon as the doctor walked away, the man turned to the nurse and asked coldly, “How much will the treatment cost?”
“Several lakhs,” the nurse replied gently. “She’s in a critical state. The medications and surgery are expensive.”
The man gasped and stumbled back a little.
Hadi, witnessing this, stepped forward, ready to assure him, “I will pay. Please, don’t worry about the money.”
But before he could speak, the man’s eyes fixed on him. They scanned Hadi from head to toe, pausing at the dried blood on his shirt.
Pointing, he asked the nurse, “He....?”
“He’s the one who brought the girl in,” she said.
Hadi stepped forward to explain, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
But something in the man’s eyes gleamed strangely. Hadi couldn’t understand it. Until the man spoke:
“You… you did this to her,” he accused.
“What?” was all Hadi could say, his voice breaking in disbelief.
The man glared at him. “You hit her on purpose, didn’t you? You didn’t want to marry her!”
“What are you talking about?” Hadi whispered, stunned.
“She wanted to marry you. You refused. She ran after you, and maybe that’s when you hit her!”
“WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Hadi’s voice rose, echoing down the hallway, drawing glances.
The nurse stepped closer and asked quietly, “Sir, what’s going on?”
“He… he’s lying,” Hadi said, but his voice trembled.
The man shook his head dramatically. “I’m not lying. He did this. Nurse, charge him for everything. I have nothing to do with that girl. NOTHING!”
Before anyone could stop him, he bolted down the corridor.
Hadi instinctively took a step to follow him, but someone blocked his path, a woman in her thirties.
“What’s happening here?” she asked firmly.
“Who are you?” Hadi asked, his voice still shaky.
She pulled out her ID card. “Rubina Alvi. I’m from an NGO that protects women’s rights. I saw everything. I heard what he said.”
Hadi’s heart sank. “You’re misunderstanding me. I don’t even know the girl.”
“We’ve seen men like you before,” she said, her voice cold. “Trapping girls, using them, then abandoning them. You won’t get away with it.”
Before Hadi could protest further, the emergency doors burst open. The doctor emerged, shouting, “NURSE! Where is the consent form? We’re running out of time!”
The nurse quickly explained the situation.
Hadi stood frozen, his head in his hand, unable to comprehend how things had escalated so quickly.
“Doctor,” Rubina said, “can we talk in your cabin?”
The doctor nodded. Rubina turned to Hadi. “You too. Come with us.”
Left with no choice, Hadi followed. The hallway behind them echoed with tension and confusion, and the future was clouding faster than the storm he had driven through.92Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF0SYFbLWiO
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