The sky turned orange, with a mix of pink and purple streaks as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Birds were chirping slightly while taking a flight to their nests. Their homes. And I was also returning from my office to my house.

Vendors bellowed, barking their lungs out as they chanted the prices of the fruits and vegetables.

I weaved through the crowd tolling in the narrow street of our colony, moving carefully so that I couldn’t end up rammeding with anyone. Or worse, falling onto a rough and chipped path myself.

This would be an absolute horror. I, lying flat on the ground. People gawking at me.

Nope. I don’t want to give anybody here a free show. Life had already made a circus of my emotions and feelings, it played me in a cruelest way.

This would not be repeated with me.

I drew a sharp breath as I finally crossed the sea of people, my clothes crumpled and sticking to my skin like a glue as sweat drenched me.

Oh God! Summer is another enemy of mine. No matter how much I try to protect my poor body from the rays of the sun by covering my head, it always finds a way to slam against my face.

Thankfully, it was evening and the Sun had almost hid itself but the heat sucks.

I shook my head, shoving the climate feedback away and reached for my bag flung over my shoulder, my arms were already aching with non-stop sitting and typing on the keyword.

Sometimes, my muscles ache so much as if someone hit them with a hammer. The pain explodes, spreading through my whole body like a fire and making it difficult to even keep myself straight.

My body protests to rest but when life leaves us with no choices but to keep moving. Not for ourselves. But for our loved-ones, those who put their faith in us like we would protect them from every evil. Would become their shield in the storms.

So, I run. Even when I want to escape. When I want to drop my weapons.

For my little sister, my Khushi. She is all I have to call my people and I want to give her as much as I can. The way her face lit up with pure bliss when I give her things she secretly loves but never voice out openly, just because I don’t have to push myself.

As a result, she buries her desires and wishes.

But I won’t let that happen. Mamma and Papa would be disappointed in me if I let her struggle for the battles that were never hers to fight.

We lost our parents when she was twelve, in a plane crash. They were travelling for the first time in a flight, in economy class and we were excited for them despite the fact that we were chilling at our home.

The world stopped for us when we got the news of its crash, making our lives a living nightmare.

The pictures of the tragedy are still so vivid in my mind. Burning tail. Smoke curling from every corner of the airplane. I saw the white paint turning into the black.

Just like my life. Just like the night spreading over the stilled sky.

We cried. For hours. Until there was no tear left in our eyes to slip free. But then as if somewhere in my mind, I knew… I couldn’t fall weak. I have a sister to take care of.

So, I wiped my cheeks firmly and crushed her into a bone-crushing hug — trying to anchor both of us to reality. To the cruel play of fate.

I vowed to give her every happiness she deserved. And became strong for her but that was not enough.

You need money for survival. And for money, you need a job.

Hence, I made myself capable enough to pull a decent job so that at least I can meet the desires she suppressed in her heart, manage three times as much food and a good livelihood.

And got a job in NYSTRA.

After rummaging through my handbag, I found the keys of my one-storey house. It is not very big but manageable for two people.

With a long sigh, I inserted the key into the lock and turned it to open.

At this point, there was not enough energy left to do this simple task. Unlock the door and step in. My body was completely spent as it was screaming at my mind to drop everything and just tumble to bed.

I pushed the door open but just when I was about to step in, a voice from behind stopped me in my tracks.

“You seem exhausted.” I spun and found Kishore uncle standing at the threshold, rectangular glasses perched on his nose and newspaper dangling in his hands like always.

My shoulders dropped, “yeah. Work load.” I replied evenly.

He is a kind man in his late fifties, wiry and thin frame, grey hairs tousled over his head, bony hands peeking from his loose kurti.

Age really shows its effect. We can’t outdone or beat time even if we leave no stone unturned.

“You are always like this,” he smiled knowingly. I tried to smile back but failed miserably.

The fate has turned so cruel toward me that a smile feels like a borrowed luxury. With no guarantee when it will be snatched. So, it is better if I don’t try to chase it.

“Stop punishing yourself,” his voice was filled with concern as he walked inside the house with slow steps.

He is always there for us. He knows everything. My struggles, my mistakes, the damage I couldn’t undo and still paying the price.

Kishore Sharma is an old friend of my father, from the times they used to study in high schools. He came to help when the world turned its back on us. He found the house for us when we were thrown out of our own home.

Because of the sin I committed.

My eyes burned. I shut them, trying to push back the tears threatening to spill out. Not now, I can’t afford to break down when tears in my eyes are too lend.

“Are you okay.” Concern filled uncle’s voice cut through my thoughts and I looked at him, shaking my head slightly.

“I am fine, uncle,” my exhausted tone was steadier than I felt, “just tired.”

He gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further and I was grateful for that. I am not prepared for confrontation, I don’t believe I would ever be ready.

Instead he flipped the topic, “where’s Khushi?” He asked, glancing around the house.

It hit with a force of thunder.

Khushi was not at home. She went to her best friend’s birthday party. Although she had taken permission from me, begging that she would return by evening, I reluctantly let her go when all the instincts screamed at me to refuse.

Then, her eyes… innocent and pleading orbs made me do the exact opposite and I ended up giving her permission.

I sharply remember that I had strictly told her to return before the sun dips and she had also promised to come back before the night settled on the city.

Mumbai is a city that never sleeps, it keeps moving, regardless of the stomachs sleeping empty on the footpath, benches and under the moonlight.

But I can’t trust the people here or anywhere. The vultures roaming outside like they owned the air, hunting for innocent souls.

It doesn’t matter whether you are in a room full of people, the predator will always find its prey. Not openly everytime. But secretly sometimes.

“She had gone to her friend’s birthday party.” My voice was restless as I kept my bag on the single, old sofa placed against the scraped wall.

My feet were unsteady as I moved toward the small and open kitchen of a single slab and reached for water.

I tightened my grip on the jug as I poured the water into the glass and took a few sips, the liquid did nothing to calm the jitters running in my nerves.

The uncle sensed it, his voice floated through the compact space of the hallway. “Calm down, beta. She will be fine.”

I dropped the glass on the table, it met the cemented slab with a thud that synced with my heartbeat. Turning toward the uncle, I managed a small nod, not trusting my voice.

“Don’t take stress. She will come soon. Might be stuck in traffic. You know Mumbai,” he reasoned in a calm tone but I didn’t miss the slight tremor in it.

He has already done a lot for us and I don’t want to stress him more. Most of all, he is a BP patient, stress is not good for his health.

Despite the uneasiness clawing my spine, I nod. “You are right. She would be in traffic. I will call her now.”

Curbing my lips into a smile, that was anything but reassuring despite my efforts, I replied calmly. “You should rest. It's already time for your medicine. I will see after her.”

“Do let me know when she comes,” he nodded in understanding, “I have to have a word with her,” he added playfully.

I sighed and accompanied him to the door. He looked back once, blinked in assurance and walked toward his house, his silhouette faded into the darkness.

The night had enveloped the city into a pitch-black darkness as there was not a flicker of moonlight slipping down the city. The cloud had covered the whole sky.

It felt unsettling. And somehow haunting.

My gaze darted toward the threshold of the colony, the large entrance where I could almost feel Khushi walking in a knee-length baby pink frock, a smile dancing on her lips.

But when I blinked, all I saw was a thick board and two pillars connecting the walls. She was not actually there.

I kept staring in that direction for how long I had no idea, hoping that Khushi might walk the next second. But hours passed with me standing on the uneven threshold of my old house, waiting for her but she was nowhere in my sight.

Unease that had wounded my spine was now flared in my veins, making the blood freeze as my breathing grew shallow.

With trembling legs, I stepped into the house again and grabbed my phone.

It was nearly midnight. The mocking number of 12o’clock was testament to the dread tearing my heart apart. I felt an ache in my chest.

Sharp. Brutal. Sudden.

It was as if my soul was telling me that something was wrong.

I clenched my eyes shut, praying to God to keep Khushi safe.

My fingers flew over the screen as I dialed one of her friends, the birthday girl. It was answered on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Prarthna here.” I said, desperation coursing through my voice, “is Khushi there?”

“No,” the reply came instantly, "in fact she left around 8.”

My breath stopped. Khushi had left from there a long time ago.

“Is everything okay?” She asked.

“No. no. just, Khushi is still not at home,” my voice betrayed the tension in my body, “just knowing if she stayed there.”

“She didn’t,” she denied softly, “she was so adamant to go back.”

I nodded though she couldn’t see me, my throat tightened painfully. “Okay, take care.”

“Please, let me know when she will reach there,” her voice was filled with worry.

“Ofcourse,” my voice came out hoarse and rough as sobs threatened to slip from my mouth.

I ended the call and bit my lower-lip hard, preventing myself from crying. It was not the time.

I dialed next, “hello, is Khushi with you?”

“No,” my heart lurched with a same reply drifting from the phone speaker.

After calling all of her friends I knew, my arms gave out, falling helplessly at my side.

Khushi had left from the party avenue few hours ago, then why wasn’t she home yet? Is something bad… NO. NO. NO.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away before it could make home in my mind.

She will be fine. She will be safe. I kept repeating this in my mind, trying to summon some semblance of courage.

But I couldn’t sit at home like this. When my heart was bleeding, when I was barely able to keep herself tethered.

An urge to find my little sister rose in my mind. I didn’t think more. I didn’t change my clothes.

I just grabbed my handbag from the sofa, rubbed my slicked hands over the fabric of jeans on my thighs and walked out, locking the door behind me.

The thin fabric of my kurti swayed with wind brushing against me, I tried to breathe while searching for the rickshaw but air felt too tight.

Like a noose.

Wandering desperately on a main road like a lost child, I spotted an auto rolling down toward me. I adjusted the strap of my bag over my arm and flagged in auto’s direction.

It came to halt infront of me.

Without wasting any more time, I sat in the back seat and informed the driver to take me to the police station.

It was the only place that came into my mind, that I could trust with my situation despite the fact that how sick the judiciary is in this country.

As the auto dropped me at a nearby Police-station, I paid him, thanked for the ride and made my way toward the police station.

The lights were on, casting an angry and awakening glow in every corner of the place.

But few officers were nearly on the verge of passing out.

I approached one desk and lightly slammed my palm on the wooden table, jolting an officer from whatever dreams he was seeing while sleeping on the chair.

He blinked his eyes a few times, shook his head and finally, when he felt he had regained some senses, he looked up.

“Yes.” He yawned, his palm flying to cover his mouth.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead muttering through my gritted teeth. “My sister is missing. I want to file a missing report.”

He nodded, yawned again, this time a little too loudly and reached for a complaint register to note down.

My face scrunched in disgust but I shoved my unease down for the sake of my sister. I can bear this for her.

The pen scribbled on the page. The sound of scratching nib against the paper echoed in the silence, but my unease only grew.

He shut the file and placed the pen near it. Complaint noted.

“According to law,” he steepled his fingers, his voice suddenly turned sharp like it should be of any police officer, “we cannot register complaint before 24 hours but since you came all the way to police-station at this hour,” he glanced down at his watch before saying, “I have written it and will inform you if we find something.”

I nodded slightly because my mouth was too parched to form words. Not the kind of thirst for water. But the kind when you are too wrecked to speak because life had left no option.

He opened his mouth to say something, maybe assurance or a few kind words but I was already turning away, carrying the weight of my sorrow and hope.

I didn’t need false consolations or sympathies, but my sister. My Khushi.

Padding out of the Police-station, I took another auto and returned back to my home.

What could I possibly do except this?

The only thing that was in my hands was to wait. Hope. And Prayer.

Please God! Just keep her safe.

Time passed in blur but there was no sign of her arrival. The house felt empty. Like a cage. It felt as if it was trying to eat me out with its stillness.

The silence felt louder than any shout.

As I looked around, toward the small broken window of the house, the memory of Khushi decorating it with hand made flowers on diwali flashed in my mind. We didn’t have enough money to buy fairy lights, so she crafted hand-decor.

A broken sob escaped my lips, followed by a hot trail of tears sliding down my kurti.

My gaze wandered on the wall, the peeling paint covering the bottom half of the cemented wall glowed in the dim light falling on it from the bulb hanging from the ceiling.

The walls were not painted. Only plastered with cement. It looked black and colorless to her.

So, with her saved money, she bought an ample amount of paint and started brushing it over every surface of the wall, her height could support.

Every corner of this place was dipped in her memories. Her laughter, her mischief, her stubborn pout.

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

My legs hit the floor as I clamped my palm over my mouth to muffle the guttural and sharp sound escaping from my throat.

Pain shot through my limbs. My knees scraped against the floor but it was the empty silence that stung. My chest was unbearably heavy.

I cried my heart out because that was the only thing I could do at that time. This was one of the fewest times I felt utterly helpless in my entire life, if anything happened to her. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

Tears flowed from my eyes like a waterfall, dampening my kurti as it clung to my tear-slicked skin.

I dropped my head against the wall, pulled my knees to my chest and curled my arms around it. I tightened my hold around my body as pain became unbearable while tears kept falling onto my cheeks.

My lips quivered as I prayed meekly, “please be safe, my baby. Come back to your dii.”

I lost the time in my sobs, in attempts to shove tormenting thoughts away and pleading quietly for her safety.

My body was worn out. I was spent beyond my limits but still the sleep was nowhere close to my eyes. My lashes didn’t even flutter.

They were hollow, my aching chest kept me awake as if every fibre in my body also knew about her… also prayed for her.

Just when I thought I couldn’t endure more and would probably pass out at any moment, the main door of my house opened.

I snapped my head in the doorway and my breath stalled.