The door closed with a soft thud, once again plunging the room into darkness. The woman leaned her head against the door, her body trembling with sobs. She tried to muffle her cries, keeping her voice as low as possible. One hand held an empty plate while the other covered her mouth, but despite her efforts, a loud cry escaped her lips.

She was startled by a soft voice calling out, "Mumma." Turning around, she saw her son standing in the hallway, his eyes filled with concern as he watched her cry. He moved quickly down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands. "Is she alright?" he asked softly.

"I don't know how to answer that question," she said, burying her face in his chest, her sobs growing louder but still muffled.

"What do you mean? I'll check—" he started, reaching for the door. But she stopped him before his hand could touch the knob.

"She talked... for the first time since it happened," his mother whispered breathlessly.

He froze, looking at her in shock, his brown eyes searching hers. "Did she?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

His mother nodded with a small, slow movement, her hands trembling as she spoke. "She talked, and I listened," she said, her hand shaking as she pointed to herself. "But—"

She placed a hand over his mouth, letting out a sob. Growing impatient and wanting to keep his voice as low as possible, he asked, "But what, Mumma?" gently shaking her.

The mother let out a breathless sob, whispering as if afraid to reveal. "I wasn’t the one she was talking to. She was..."

"She was what, Mumma?" he asked, nearly in tears, his heart pounding faster, ready to burst if the answer wasn't revealed.

“She was hallucinating,” she said, letting the words spill out quickly, unable to hold back the truth of what she had seen.

"Hal... halu... cinating?" he stammered, struggling to get the word out, his eyes widening in shock.

"Her silence was already killing me, but after all these years, she finally spoke. I don't find happiness because... you know,'' she said, her voice cracking with sobs. "She suddenly started talking about her dreams and ambitions, and for a moment, I was happy. But then... she began repeating the incident, over and over, like she used to when it first happened. She would stop, then start again, like a broken tape. There's life in her body, but her eyes... they seem empty, without life."

Clutching her son's t-shirt, she whispered, her voice trembling with fear, eyes brimming with tears. "Her speaking again after all these years... it’s like holding a broken key, one with too many doors. If I don’t find the right one, we could lose her forever. And even if I do, what if the key gets stuck? What if we can never unlock her again?"

"What do we do? What are we going to do, Chiku?" his mother asked, her eyes wide, breath coming in heavy gasps as she searched desperately for answers. She needed them—needed something to hold onto—terrified of being left in the dark, just like her daughter had been.

Virat pulled his mother into a hug, gently kissing her forehead as he rubbed her back. "Calm down, Mumma. If we finally have the key, God will guide us to the right door."

She looked up at him, her eyes tired and weary. "Chiku... how can I calm down?" she whispered. "Even today, I had to quiet her with injections. Her rambling escalated until she was crying, on the verge of breaking down completely. Before that could happen, I had to sedate her with medicine. I don’t have the strength anymore to watch my Mina like this. I just... don’t," she said, sobbing as she leaned her head back, exhausted.

Virat Kohli gently pulled his mother’s head into his chest, letting her cry as he fought to hold back his own tears. All the power he wielded in the outside world, the status that made him unstoppable in cricket and beyond, suddenly felt meaningless in front of this door. What was the use of being the king of the cricket world, having money, power, and fame, when he couldn’t do a thing to pull his sister back from the darkness?

Virat held his mother tighter, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He had faced down the fiercest bowlers, stood tall in front of roaring crowds, and commanded respect from powerful figures. But here, in the quiet of their home, with his sister lost in a world he couldn’t reach, he felt utterly powerless. He would trade every trophy, every victory, just to see Mina smile like she used to, to hear her laugh without fear, without the shadows haunting her.

His mother’s sobs quieted, but her body still trembled against him. He stroked her hair gently, trying to soothe her even though he didn’t have the answers she needed. "Mumma, I’ll do whatever it takes. There has to be a way. We can’t give up on her. Not now." His voice wavered, betraying the fear he tried so hard to suppress.

His mother pulled back slightly, her red-rimmed eyes searching his. "Chiku… I’ve tried. We’ve tried everything. And still, she slips further away." She shook her head, defeated, her voice breaking again. "I just don’t know how much more I can take."

Virat bit the inside of his cheek, trying to summon strength when all he felt was emptiness. "I know, Mumma, but we can’t stop. There’s still hope. We’ll find the right door. We’ll get her back."

His mother let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall, her face etched with exhaustion. "It feels like... like time is slipping away from us. I’m so scared, Virat. What if she never comes back?"

"Don’t say that again," Virat said, his voice firm, though his emotions were barely in check. "She will come out of this. I can feel it—there’s something out there that holds the key, and we have to find it. It’s around us, somewhere. We just need to keep looking."

He scolded his mother gently, his frustration evident as he struggled to maintain his composure. He couldn’t bear to hear the same despairing words over and over, determined to hold onto hope even when it seemed out of reach.

"We’re going to find it," Virat said softly, his voice calming as he looked at his mother. "I don’t know what it is yet, but we can’t lose hope, okay?" He added, his tone gentler, feeling a pang of guilt for scolding her earlier.

Mumma Kohli nodded slowly, a small smile breaking through as she tried to stay positive. "We won’t lose hope," she said softly.