The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the garden where Aditi, Shubman, and Shahneel sat around a tea table. The atmosphere was heavy with tension. Ishan's uncle, visibly exhausted, was hunched over his laptop, constantly making calls and typing messages. His bloodshot eyes bore evidence of sleepless night.

Beside him sat his wife, staring blankly into space. Her eyes were void of any emotion, save for the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"Have you guys found anything?" Ishan's uncle asked, his voice strained and weary. "About anyone? Ishan or..." His voice cracked, threatening to break into a sob, "my daughters?"

"No, Uncle. I'm sorry, but we're trying our best," Aditi replied gently.

Just then, Ishan's uncle received a video message. He quickly played it on the laptop, and the screen lit up with the faces of his daughters.

"Hi, Dad-Mom. Are you guys worried about us? Don't be. We're at our friend Ridhima's house. We'll come back by tomorrow. We're safe, don't worry. Love you," the girls said cheerfully.

Everyone watched the video intently. Ishan's uncle played it again, scrutinizing every detail.

"There, it's solved then. They might have seen a friend and gotten excited, so they went with them," Aditi suggested.

"It's a morphed video. They are not my daughters," Ishan's uncle said, his voice resolute.

"What? What makes you say that?" Shubman asked, confused.

"Didn't you see the video was glitching? It's someone else talking, and then it's replicated with AI!" Ishan's uncle explained.

"I'm sure the glitch is just a net issue, Uncle. I think you're overthinking," Aditi said, trying to calm him down.

"No, I am not! Why don't you guys believe me? I know the difference between a net issue and a morphed video," Ishan's uncle insisted, his frustration growing.

"Of course you do," Shubman said, exchanging a meaningful look with Shahneel.

Without a word, Shahneel slipped out of the garden and returned a few minutes later with the daughters in tow.

"Dad, Mom!" The girls ran to their parents, who enveloped them in tight, tearful hugs.

Ishan's uncle and aunt cried, overwhelmed with relief. "Take them inside," Ishan's uncle said to his wife, who guided the girls into the house.

As soon as they were alone, Ishan's uncle turned to Shubman and Aditi, his expression darkening. "What is this?" he demanded, anger simmering in his voice.

"That's our question too," Shubman replied coldly. "We just gave you a taste of your own medicine."

"What do you mean?" Ishan's uncle asked, his eyes narrowing.

"How do you know about the glitch difference so confidently?" Shubman asked.

"Because my business is in the IT sector? This is basically our job. We are working on glitching issues in the new version of AI," Ishan's uncle responded, his voice steady but defensive.

"Liar!" Shubman shot back. "Look at these videos." He pulled out his phone and showed him the video calls he had received. "Someone called me and Ishan, claiming to be Raj. This Raj curses exactly like you do!"

Ishan's uncle watched the videos carefully, his face an inscrutable mask. "You think I kidnapped Ishan?"

"Who else?" Shubman retorted.

"I think of them as my own sons since their parents died! And you guys accuse me of kidnapping him based on a swear word? Have you ever considered that someone might be trying to impersonate me to divert attention?" Ishan's uncle's voice rose, filled with hurt and indignation.

Shubman and Aditi fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Oh God, look," Ishan's uncle said, pulling up some documents on his laptop. "If I were the culprit, why would I file a GD at the police station? Look here, I have applied for professional CID assistance for Ishan's case. Here, take a look at the soft copies!"

He handed the laptop to Shubman, who scanned the documents quickly. They were indeed formal applications to the CID, along with receipts from the police station acknowledging his reports. The sincerity in his voice and the legitimacy of the documents made them pause.

"We didn't know, Uncle," Shubman said softly, feeling a pang of guilt. "We were just desperate for answers.Sorry."

"I understand," Ishan's uncle replied, his voice calmer now but still strained. "We're all desperate. But we must work together, not against each other."

As Shubman,Aditi,Shaneel processed this new information,They realized they had been misled, their suspicions manipulated by an unseen enemy. The pieces of the puzzle started to align, revealing a more sinister plot than they had imagined.

"We need to figure out who is behind this," Aditi said, her voice resolute. "And we need to find Ishan."

"And we will," Shubman added, determination hardening in his eyes. "But we need to be smart about it."

******

Ishan lay on the cold floor of the dimly lit room, his wrists bound tightly by rough rope. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and the single meal a day barely kept him conscious. The door creaked open, and the familiar figure of his housekeeper stepped in, carrying a tray with a piece of dry bread and a small cup of water.

"Please, Kaka," Ishan pleaded, his voice weak. "Let me go. You know me. Why are you doing this?"

The housekeeper placed the tray down with a sigh. "It's not in my hands, Ishan. My duty was only to bring you here."

"Whose hands is it in, then?" Ishan demanded, desperation giving him a sudden burst of energy. "Who are you working for?"

The housekeeper chuckled darkly. "A boy who grew up abroad, you really are dumb. We thought we would have more trouble manipulating you than Raj. Turns out you are just an emotional puppet."

Ishan's eyes widened. "We? Who else is involved in this?"

At that moment, another figure stepped into the room, shrouded in shadows. The newcomer moved with a familiarity that struck a deep chord of fear in Ishan. As the person stepped into the light, Ishan's heart sank.

"You!" he exclaimed, his voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and heartbreak.

The person smiled coldly. "Hello, Ishan. I thought I would see you for the last time."

Ishan's eyes filled with tears of shock and betrayal. "Why are you doing this?"

"Don't look at me like that," the person said, their tone eerily calm. "I'll make sure you're well-fed before killing you. I even told your housekeeper to cook all your favorite dishes."

Ishan's mind raced, trying to comprehend the treachery. "How could you? What do you want from me?"

The person's expression hardened. "It's not about what I want, Ishan. It's about what needs to be done. You were always too naive to see the bigger picture."

Desperation clawed at Ishan's throat. "Please, don't do this. Whatever you want, we can figure it out together."

The person laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed in the small room. "It's too late for that, Ishan. Much too late."

The housekeeper, who had been silent, finally spoke. "You should eat. You'll need your strength."

Ishan stared at the tray of bread and water, feeling a wave of hopelessness wash over him. How had it come to this? Betrayed by those he trusted most, with no way out in sight.

The person turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Goodbye, Ishan. Try not to think too much. It won't change anything."

As the door closed behind them, Ishan was left in the dim light, the weight of his predicament settling heavily on his shoulders. The betrayal cut deep, but he knew he had to stay strong, even if hope seemed distant.

He had to find a way out. For his family. For himself. For the truth.

Ishan sat in the dimly lit room hopelessly. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional distant noise. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass shattered the oppressive quiet. Ishan looked up, startled, as a cricket ball rolled across the floor. The glass ventilator above had been shattered by the ball.

Heart pounding, Ishan waited in tense silence. After a few moments, a small face appeared at the broken ventilator. A little boy, no older than seven, peered cautiously into the room. Ishan mouthed, "Help me," hoping the boy could understand.

The boy's eyes widened in fear, and he quickly disappeared from view. Ishan felt a pang of hopelessness. He slumped back, the small glimmer of hope fading as quickly as it had come.

Minutes dragged on, feeling like hours. Just as Ishan was sinking back into despair, another face appeared at the broken ventilator. This time, it was a familiar one-Ashish Nehra, GT's coach.

"Ishan!" Ashish whispered, his voice filled with shock.

"Help me," Ishan croaked, his voice barely audible.

Ashish nodded, quickly assessing the situation. "Stay quiet," he instructed. "I'll get you out of here."

Ashish disappeared for a moment, and Ishan could hear muffled voices and the rustling of leaves. Soon, the door to the room creaked open, and Ashish slipped inside, moving with the stealth of a seasoned athlete.

"We have to be quick," Ashish whispered, cutting the ropes that bound Ishan's hands. "This house is on the side of a big coconut garden I just bought yesterday. I was playing cricket with my sons when my youngest saw you through the ventilator."

"Thank you," Ishan murmured rubbing his sore wrists. He could hardly believe his luck.

Ashish helped Ishan to his feet, supporting him as they moved toward the door. They slipped out into the corridor, keeping to the shadows. The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds being their soft footsteps and the distant murmur of voices from another room.

"Stay low and keep close," Ashish instructed. "We can't afford to get caught now."

They moved cautiously, every creak of the floorboards making Ishan's heart race. As they approached a corner, voices grew louder. Ashish held up a hand, signaling Ishan to stop. They waited, breath held, until the voices faded.

"This way," Ashish whispered, guiding Ishan through a side door that opened into the expansive coconut garden. The lush greenery provided ample cover as they made their way toward the boundary of the property

"My family lives just nearby," Ashish whispered. "We'll get you there safely, and then we can figure out what to do next."

They reached the edge of the garden, and Ashish signaled for Ishan to stay low. The coach's years of experience in the field were evident in his cautious movements and sharp awareness of their surrounding.

Finally, they emerged onto a narrow path that led to a small house. Ashish's family was waiting there, his wife and sons looking anxious.

"Dad, is he okay?" one of the boys asked, his voice trembling.

"He'll be fine," Ashish assured him. "Let's get inside quickly."

Once inside, Ashish's wife, brought Ishan water and some food. "Eat slowly," she advised, her eyes full of concern. "You must be starving."

"You are out of danger now Ishan don't worry!"-Ashish said.

"Call Shubman, Ashish bhaia.I need to talk to him."

[A/n: So there is only one chapter left,with an Epilogue.

Happy reading ❤️]