C15 The Road Home

The day started like any other.

Which was exactly why Aisha didn’t notice the danger at first.

Morning clinic hours were busy.

A broken molar.

Two children with cavities.

An elderly farmer who insisted on telling her long stories while she worked.

Normal.

Comforting.

Predictable.

By the time the sun dipped behind the mountains, the clinic was quiet again.

Aisha wiped down the dental chair and stretched her stiff shoulders.

“Done for today,” she murmured.

Outside the sky had turned the deep orange of a Himachali sunset.

She locked the clinic door and began the familiar walk home.

The path curved gently along the hillside road.

Past the grocery shop.

Past the narrow bridge.

Past the empty bus stop.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

For half a second her heart jumped again.

Maybe—

But when she checked the screen it was just Benji.

Benji:

Buy milk if the shop is still open.

Aisha snorted softly.

Romance is dead, she typed back.

She slipped the phone away and kept walking.

The evening air was cooler than usual.

The road quieter too.

Halfway down the path she heard it.

An engine.

A motorcycle rolled slowly past her.

The rider wore a dark helmet.

He didn’t look at her.

But the bike slowed slightly before continuing down the road.

Aisha frowned.

Strange.

But probably nothing.

She continued walking.

The grocery shop was still open.

So she stepped inside and grabbed milk like Benji demanded.

The shopkeeper smiled.

“Late today, doctor.”

“Busy clinic.”

“Good work you’re doing here.”

Aisha thanked him and stepped back onto the road.

The sky was darker now.

The mountains turning into silhouettes against the fading light.

She had only walked about fifty meters when the motorcycle engine returned.

Behind her.

This time it didn’t pass.

It stopped.

Aisha turned slowly.

The same rider.

Same dark helmet.

Same still posture.

Her stomach tightened.

“Can I help you?” she asked cautiously.

The rider didn’t answer.

Then a second motorcycle appeared.

From the opposite direction.

Blocking the road ahead.

Something cold slid through her chest.

“Oh.”

The first rider stepped off the bike.

Slow.

Deliberate.

He removed the helmet.

A face she didn’t recognize.

Hard eyes.

Thin smile.

“Doctor Aisha,” he said calmly.

Her grip tightened on the milk bag.

“How do you know my name?”

He shrugged slightly.

“You know someone we’re interested in.”

Her heart dropped.

Arjun.

“I think you’re mistaken,” she said carefully.

The man chuckled.

“No.”

He stepped closer.

“Not mistaken.”

Aisha took a step back.

Another man had already moved behind her.

Her pulse exploded in her ears.

“Look,” she said quickly, “if this is about money—”

“It isn’t.”

The first man’s expression hardened.

“Where is Arjun Rathore?”

Aisha’s stomach twisted.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Before she could react—

A hand grabbed her arm.

Another clamped over her mouth.

The milk bag dropped and burst across the road.

White liquid spilling into the dust.

Aisha kicked wildly.

Struggled.

But the grip on her tightened instantly.

“Easy,” one of them muttered.

“Don’t damage the leverage.”

Her heart pounded violently.

They dragged her toward the waiting motorcycle.

Aisha tried to scream.

The sound barely escaped.

Her mind raced.

One thought louder than all the others.

Arjun.

And somewhere deep down she had the terrifying realization…

This wasn’t random.

They weren’t after her.

They were after him.

The motorcycle engine roared to life.

And within seconds the quiet mountain road was empty again.

Except for the spilled milk slowly spreading across the dirt.

Miles away…

In a completely different part of the state…

Arjun Rathore’s phone finally turned back on.

And for the first time in weeks—

It started receiving messages.

One after another.

Thirty-two unread texts from Aisha.