The shrill ring of his phone pierced the silence of the early morning, jolting Shubman from his restless slumber. Groggily, he reached out, his hand fumbling for the source of the disturbance. As he pressed the phone to his ear, the voice of the commissioner crackled through, urgent and somber, "Shubman, we've been on Aditi's trail. The last ping from her phone came from the outskirts of Chandigarh. Our team is combing the area for any leads. I promise to keep you informed of any developments."

With a heavy heart, Shubman responded, a simple "Okay sir," masking the turmoil within. As he ended the call, his gaze fell upon Shahneel, who had dozed off while keeping vigil. With tender care, he adjusted her position on the bed, ensuring her comfort. Leaning close, he whispered a heartfelt "Thank you, di. Your support means the world to me," his words a soft murmur in the quiet room.

Seeking solace in routine, Shubman made his way to the bathroom. The warm cascade of the shower did little to wash away his worries, but he emerged clad in comfortable attire, a semblance of normalcy in the chaos that had enveloped his life.

Returning to his room, he was drawn to the balcony, a place where thoughts and memories often intertwined. There, he stood, eyes closed, allowing the flood of recollections to wash over him—moments of joy and laughter shared with Aditi. It was a bittersweet reverie, interrupted only by the gentle touch of a hand upon his shoulder.

Startled, he turned to find Keart, his mother, standing beside him. Her presence was a beacon of strength in his sea of uncertainty. Embracing her tightly, he sought the reassurance he so desperately needed, "Ma, will Aditi... will she be alright?"

Keart's response was laced with unwavering conviction, "Yes, my child. She's a warrior, just like us. We'll find her, and soon." Her words were a soothing balm to Shubman's frayed nerves.

He nodded, finding comfort in her embrace. In that moment, Keart was more than just a mother; she was the pillar of hope that held him steady amidst the storm of his emotions. And so, they remained, locked in an embrace that spoke volumes of their unspoken bond and shared resolve to bring Aditi home.

As consciousness crept back into my mind, a throbbing pain seized my temples. My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with a hazy, distorted reality. Confusion clouded my thoughts. Where was I? The air was damp and heavy, the walls around me cold and unyielding. It dawned on me with a chilling realization—I was in a dungeon, a prisoner in my own story.

Panic clawed at my throat, and I struggled to find my voice. It was a silent scream at first, a mere whisper of terror. But then, with a deep, steadying breath, I summoned all my strength and cried out into the void, "HELP!"

The echo of my own desperation bounced off the stone walls before being swallowed by the darkness. Footsteps approached, heavy and foreboding. Three, no, four men emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured, their intentions unknown. "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice quivering with fear. "Why have you kidnapped me?"

They parted, and there he was—Karthik Bedi, the ghost of my past, the architect of my nightmares. He stood there, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "Why, Karthik?" I whispered, the hurt evident in my voice. "Why have you done this?"

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto mine. "No, babygirl, I will never let you go," he declared, his voice a sinister melody of obsession.

"But you had the chance to stay, to be mine," I protested, my heart aching with betrayal. "Why did you leave me?"

His eyes darkened, a storm brewing within. "Because I knew," he hissed, "I knew about you and that Shubman."

Shock rippled through me. Rumors had circulated, yes, but they were nothing more than whispers in the wind. How could he believe such lies?

Yet, here I was, Shubman's wife, bound not just by law but by the sacred rituals of marriage. Karthik was nothing but a shadow, a dark chapter I had long closed.

He leaned in, his breath foul with malice. "You have two choices," he sneered. "Marry me, or prepare to mourn Shubman."

Despair engulfed me. How had my life spiraled into this twisted tale? I needed a plan, a way out. "You have until tomorrow," Karthik spat, leaving me alone with my torment.

Shubman's footsteps echoed in the commissioner's office, a rhythmic beat against the ticking clock. The air was thick with tension, each second stretching into eternity. The commissioner, a stern figure of authority, was huddled with his team, their heads bowed in urgent conversation. Finally, he turned to Shubman, his voice a blend of reassurance and resolve. "Shubman, we've mobilized every resource at our disposal. We're ready to move out at a moment's notice. We just need the precise location, and then we can storm the place."

Shubman's heart was a tumultuous sea, but he managed a curt nod, his jaw set in grim determination. Abhishek, his loyal friend and confidant, stepped forward, his hand resting on Shubman's shoulder. "Thank you, sir," he said, his voice betraying a hint of gratitude amidst the worry.

They exited the commissioner's office, the weight of the world on their shoulders. Shubman approached the car, his sanctuary in this chaos, and slumped into the driver's seat. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, a silent prayer escaping his lips. He yearned to surrender to the storm of emotions within him, but he knew he had to be the anchor for his family, who were adrift in their own sea of distress.

Abhishek appeared beside the car, his presence a steady comfort. "Shub, let me take the wheel," he offered gently. Shubman looked up, his eyes reflecting a maelstrom of fear and hope, and nodded silently. He relinquished the driver's seat and settled into the passenger's side, a silent sentinel bracing for the battle ahead.

The journey home was a blur, the streets a mere backdrop to the war raging in Shubman's mind. Upon arrival, he made his way to his room, a fortress against the uncertainty that lay beyond its walls. With a turn of the key, he locked himself away from the world, his heart whispering vows of rescue and reunion.

The world seemed to crumble around me, each moment stretching into an agonizing eternity without Aditi. The thought of leaving for Ahmedabad the next day without her by my side sent waves of dread crashing over me. My mind raced with terrifying possibilities—what if harm befell her? What if she was torn from my life, leaving nothing but a void in her wake? The commissioner's assurances echoed hollowly in my ears; they would search for her, yes, but the gnawing fear of losing her forever clawed at my heart.

I tried to muster positivity, to cling to the commissioner's promises, but the dam holding back my emotions burst. Tears streamed down my face, unrestrained, as her absence enveloped me. I missed her with an intensity that was almost unbearable; life without her was unimaginable. My love for her was timeless, unwavering. "I love you, Aditi," I whispered into the silence, my voice laden with devotion. "So much that I'd move heaven and earth for you. I will find you, my love. That's a promise, baby."

The solitude of my grief was suffocating. I couldn't bear it any longer. With a heavy heart, I wiped away my tears and sought solace in Di's room. She was my confidante, the only one to whom I could bare my soul. As I stepped inside, she immediately sensed my turmoil. Dropping everything, she enveloped me in a comforting embrace. "Shub, be strong," she whispered, her voice a beacon of hope in the darkness. "We will find her before the IPL begins."

Her words were meant to reassure, but doubt lingered like a shadow. Could we really find Aditi in just one day? The thought was both a hope and a torment. Yet, in Di's arms, I found a semblance of peace. She was my pillar of strength, the steadfast presence I needed in Aditi's absence.