It had been more than a month since Naaz went missing.

Every day felt heavier than the last for Sidharth. He had searched relentlessly CCTV footage, police reports, even contacting the commissioner himself but every lead ended in nothing. Naaz was gone, and with each passing day, the emptiness in his chest grew.

Rita Maa watched her son with growing concern. His meals were often skipped, his once strong appetite vanished. Nights were the worst sleepless, haunted by thoughts she didn’t fully understand.

She had seen him puffing on cigarettes late at night, drinking heavily in silence, the weight of grief pressing down on him. Whenever she tried to ask, he would cut her off sharply.

“Nothing,” he would say, his voice tight, unreadable.

But she knew better. She knew something terrible had happened. She had noticed the rare occasions he went to the temple with her, seeking solace in prayer something Sidharth rarely did, ever.

Today, she decided, she would confront him. He would have to answer her.

And then she saw him emerging from his room.

Messy hair falling over his face, red and puffy eyes, his movements heavy as though the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders.

Her heart ached at the sight of her son like this. Something had happened something big… and she needed him to speak.

“Sidharth.”

“Yes, Mom,” he replied, voice tight, weary.

“Idhar baith… mujhe tujhse baat karni hai.” She pointed toward the couch, her tone gentle but firm.

“Mom , is time nahi mujhe late ho raha hai,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Sidharth… mene bola na, mujhe baat karni hai.” This time her voice carried a stern edge that brooked no argument.

He huffed and reluctantly sank onto the couch.

Rm stood beside him, her hands threading through his messy hair, caressing him softly.

“Kya baat hai, bacha? Kyun itna pareshan hai aajkal?” she asked, her voice tender, full of concern.

That was it. Sidharth’s restraint broke. His mom his support system, his confidante, his best friend was right there. The dam of his emotions burst.

He threw his arms around her waist and sobbed uncontrollably, his entire body shaking.

Her heart clenched seeing her tough child  like this vulnerable, raw, broken.

“Sidharth… bacha… kya hua? Itna kyun ro raha hai?” Her voice was gentle but carried the worry of a mother who feared the worst.

He didn’t reply. The cries only grew louder, echoing through the room, each one a stab to her heart.

“Sidharth… tu dara raha hai mujhe, bacha. Bata kya hua.”

Rita Maa was a strong woman; she seldom cried. But seeing her son in such a state, her voice trembled despite herself.

Gently, she broke the hug, her hands smoothing over his tear-streaked face with her dupatta. She moved to sit in front of him, holding his hands firmly in hers, her eyes searching his.

“Bacha… ab mujhe bata. Main hoon na, tere saath.”

“Mom… you… you… Shehnaaz, na?” His voice shook, thick with fear.

Rm’s eyes softened, recalling.

“Hmm… wo jo ghar aayi thi?”

“Yes, Mom. She is missing,” he said, each word trembling. “It’s been more than a month… and I have no idea where she went. I’m… I’m so scared, maa. I’ve tried everything… but… kuch pata nahi chal raha.”.

Rm’s brows furrowed with concern.

“Bacha… wo aise kaise ja sakti hai? College mein poocha, shayad kahi bahar gayi ho. College waalon se pooch, call kiya, ya uske friends se pata kiya?”

“I’ve tried every… fuckin thing, Mom,” he said, frustration and panic spilling over. “Contacted every friend… aur wo… ghar se nahi, college se gayab hui hai.”

Rm’s eyes widened, a chill running through her.

“Matlab?”

Sidharth took a deep breath, his chest heaving. Slowly, he recounted that dreadful day the accident, the lies, the pain she bore, the injuries he discovered, and the hell she had been living through.

Rm’s face paled. “Us bachi ke back pe… wo chot kaise lagi thi?”

His palm rubbed over his face, voice cracking with anger and helplessness.

“Her… husband… used to torture her.”

Shock hit her like a thunderclap.

“She… she is married?”

“Yes, Mom. She’s in an abusive relationship… or… ab pata nahi wo kamina kya kar raha hoga uske saath.” His fists clenched, anger and fear mixing together.

“Bichari… masoom si bachi… itna kuch jhel rahi hai… pata nahi kaun hote hain aise log, jo auraton pe haath utha ke apni mardangi sabit karte hain.”

His voice broke, tears streaming freely now. “Mom… please… kuch karo. I love her, Maa… I cannot live without her. Please… please, kuch karo.”

He clutched her hands desperately, sobbing, his whole body shaking with helplessness.

Rm’s heart ached. She tightened her grip on his hands, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Bacha… chup ho ja, abhi sab theek ho jayega. Hum use dhoond lenge,” she whispered, trying to steady him, even as fear and anger surged inside her.

“Sab theek ho jayega, mera bacha… bas upar wale par bharosa rakh.”

Her heart ached for her son seeing Sidharth in so much pain, his love and worry for Shehnaaz consuming him.

Just then, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and saw it was her daughter calling. Relief washed over her as she answered quickly.

“Hello, bacha… kaisi ho?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“I’m fine, Maa. Aap batao, kaisi ho… aur montu kaisa hai?”

Rm’s heart tightened. “Mat pooch bacha… main to phir bhi theek hoon, lekin tera bhai… is not at all fine.”

“What? What happened to him, Maa?”

“Pehle yeh bata… tu kaha hai?”

“I’m in hospital, India mein. Ek emergency case aaya tha, usi ke silsile mein aayi thi. Yahan Mumbai mein hi hoon, bas inform karne ke liye call kiya tha.”

“Toh tu ghar kab tak aayegi?”

“Ji Maa… bas 1–2 ghante lagenge.”

“Accha… toh tu free hoke ghar aa ja, phir hum baat karenge.”

“Ok Maa… byye.”

She hung up the call, letting out a silent sigh of relief.

Mentally, Rm thanked God for sending her daughter at this difficult time. It was almost unbearable for her to see Sidharth cry, his vulnerability so raw. But her daughter stronger, more composed, and closer to her baby brother would be able to handle him.

Neetu Shukla ; the best neurosurgeon in both the USA and India. Though she had moved to the USA after her marriage, her heart remained close to her family in India. To Sidharth, she was more than a sister; she was a best friend, a confidante, and almost a second mother.

Two hours later, Sidharth’s phone rang. It was her.

“Hey Neets… kaisi ho?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, masking the anxiety gnawing at him.

“Sid… bacha, are you fine?” she replied, concern immediately evident in her tone.

“Yes… yes, I’m fine. Tu bata, kab aayi India?”

“Bas aaj hi subah aayi. Yaar… tu mujhe aa kar pick kar sakta hai?”

“ofcourse, Tu kaha hai abhi?”

“ hospital mein. Aur kaha jaana hai maine?”

“Kaunsa hospital, be?” he asked.

“Lifecare Hospital.”

“Ruk… main aata hoon.”

Without waiting for further conversation, Sidharth ended the call, splashed cold water on his face, and grabbed his car keys. Before rushing out, he quickly informed his mom, giving her a reassuring nod.

Forty-five minutes later, he pulled up outside Lifecare Hospital, heart pounding not from the drive, but from the fear and hope swirling inside him.

The moment Sidharth stepped into the hospital, something inside him shifted. His chest felt tight, his heartbeat quickened, and a restless energy surged through him. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt Naaz’s presence somewhere nearby.

Shaking off the thought, he whispered a silent prayer, hoping his Naaz was safe.

He reached the second floor and saw Neetu deep in conversation with a nurse, clearly giving instructions. Stepping closer, he tapped her shoulder from behind.

She turned and her face lit up in a wide, joyful grin. Without hesitation, she hugged him tightly.

“Heyy… my baby boy! Kaisa hai tu?” she exclaimed, holding him close.

"Abhi thodi der phone pe bola tha na, ‘theek hoon,’ aur abhi itni si der mein kya ho jaayega mujhe?” he tried to joke, though the tension in his chest still lingered.

“Bakwaas!” she scolded, smacking his head lightly.

Just then, the nurse returned.

“M’am, wo bachi uth gayi hai… aur bahut ro rahi hai,” she informed.

Neetu nodded. “Acha… tum jao aur us bachi ke liye canteen se kuch khane ke liye le aao. Aur chocolates bhi le aana uske liye… main dekhti hoon usse.”

Sidharth blinked, incredulous. “Oye… tu sach mein doctor hi hai na? Dr. apne patient ko bahar ka khana ya chocolates khane se mana karte hain… aur tu wahi khila rahi hai? Kaisi doctor hai tu?”

Despite himself, a light chuckle escaped him. Something about seeing his sister again after so many years, her unwavering confidence and warmth, had lifted the heaviness in his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt a flicker of hope… and little did he know, what awaited him next would overwhelm him even more.

Neetu di smiled and wagged a finger at Sidharth.

“Chup kar! She is not my patient. Patient ki beti hai… sirf 3 saal ki hai. Bahot pyaari hai… dekhte hi pyaar ho jaayega.”

She led the way down the corridor toward the room where the little girl was sitting. As she opened the door, a tiny figure in a cute pink dress looked up, sulking.

“Hello, baby,” Neetu di greeted warmly.

The little girl’s lip quivered. “Mum… mumma… ke… paas… jaa… naa hai… mum… ma chahiye… mujhe.” She sobbed uncontrollably, burying her tiny face in her hands.

Neetu di knelt beside her and stroked her hair gently.

“Baby… aapki mumma abhi so rahi hain. Jaise aap so rahi the na, wo bhi aaraam kar rahi hain. Jab wo uth jaayengi, hum aapko unke paas le jaayenge, ok?”

“Plomishh?” the baby sniffled, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes.

(promise)

“Pakka promise,” Neetu di said, kissing her cheek and gently wiping her tears. “Aur bhook lagi hai aapko… khana khayengi?”

The baby nodded eagerly.

Soon, the nurse returned with a tray of lunch and chocolates. Neetu di fed her lovingly, making soft, cheerful chatter, and then offered her a chocolate, which she accepted with a shy smile.

Just as Neetu di’s phone rang, she excused herself, stepping out to attend the call, leaving Sidharth behind with the little girl.

Sidharth smiled softly to himself, kneeling down on the floor to match her height. He extended a hand gently, wanting to make her feel safe.

“Hey… little one,” he said quietly. “Main hoon na… ab aap akeli nahi ho.”

The baby glanced at him, eyes wide, and hesitated for a moment before reaching for his hand.

For the first time in weeks, Sidharth felt a tiny spark of peace in his heart, a fragile yet precious reminder of why he was fighting so hard to keep his loved ones safe.

“Hello,” he said softly, his voice gentle and filled with warmth.

The baby’s bottom lip quivered as she looked up at him.

“Aap ton ho… aul wo taAa dayi,” she mumbled.

(Aap kon ho, or wo kaha gayi)

Sidharth’s heart ached at her tiny voice. “Are baba, rona nahi. Shhss… main kuch nahi karunga. Main aapko chocolates bhi laa dunga, lekin please… bacha, don’t cry,” he said, panicking slightly.

The baby tilted her head from left to right, studying him.

“Apka naam kya hai?” he asked.

“Mela naam Shanvi hai,” she replied.

“Shanvi… bahot pyaara naam hai aapko toh,” he added warmly.

“Shanvi ni… Shanvi naam hai!” she whined, stamping her tiny foot.

“Wahi toh bola meri jaan… Shanvi.”

“Hayee labbba… not Shanvi… it’s Shanvi!” she corrected dramatically, her voice carrying the adorable insistence of a little boss.

(Hayee rabbbaa, not shanvi, its sanvi)

Sidharth chuckled, smiling as he heard her exclamation. “Okayy… meri maa,” he said, pressing his palms together playfully.

Just then, Neetu di entered the room and froze, watching the adorable interaction unfold.

“Kya ho raha hai yaha?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

The baby pointed at Sidharth. “Doctol… into mela naam ni shamjh me aa lha h,” she said, pouting.

(Dr. Inko mera naam hi ni samajh me aa eaha hai)

Neetu di laughed. “Ohh! Ye to hai hi… buddhi ek number ka.”

Sidharth threw up his hands dramatically. “Abeyy, mene kya kiya bey? Wo khud Shanvi bol rahi hai, aur jab maine bola to daant rahi hai mujhe!”

Shanvi crossed her arms and said, in her cute little voice, “Detha doctol… mela naam Shanvi h, aur ye bal bal mujhe Shanvi bol lahe h!”

(Dekha dr. Mera naam sanvi hai or ye mujhe baar baar shanvi bol rhe hai)

Sidharth couldn’t help but laugh along, the sound mingling with the baby’s adorable complaints. Neetu di shook her head, her face a mixture of amusement and fondness at the little scene playing out before her.

Neetu di knelt beside the little girl and smiled. “Koi baat nahi meri jaan, main batati hoon inko aapka naam… so Sidharth, her name is Sanvi, not Shanvi. Aur Sanvi, bacha… ye mera idiot bhai hai, Sidharth.”

“Ohh… idiot Shidhaaaalthhhh!” Sanvi giggled, her tiny hands waving playfully.

“Ho gaya tum dono ka? Main neeche ja raha hoon… Neetu, tum bhi jaldi aao. Mom is waiting,”  he said glancing at his watch.

The moment his words sank in, Sanvi’s bottom lip quivered again. “Mummma… mummma ke paas jaana hai,” she cried, tiny fists balled in distress.

Without a second thought, Sidharth scooped her up into his arms. “Are bacha… abhi doctor ne bola na, ki aapki mumma abhi so rahi hain. Jab wo uth jaayengi, tab hum aapko unke paas le jaayenge, ok?”

Sanvi didn’t respond, pressing her face tightly against his neck and letting out quiet sobs.

Sidharth held her gently, feeling an unexpected, deep connection to this little munchkin. Her trust, her fragility, and the way she clung to him stirred something protective and tender inside him. He didn’t want to leave her alone not even for a moment.

Sidharth held Sanvi close, her tiny body pressed against his chest, and whispered softly, “Neets… can we take her home? Yaha hospital mein akele rehna… aur koi gharwale bhi nahi hain. You know what I mean. I just… I don’t feel like leaving her alone here.”

Neetu di looked at him, seeing the worry and care etched on his face. She knew exactly how much her baby brother loved kids and Mom had already told her that he wasn’t doing well these days, that happiness had been scarce in his life. Seeing him smile, holding Sanvi gently in his arms, her heart swelled with quiet joy.

Without a second thought, she nodded. “Okay… you go downstairs. Main inform kar deti hoon.”

Sidharth carefully carried Sanvi downstairs, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering soft reassurances that slowly calmed her sobs. She clung to him, letting out quiet sniffles, her tiny hands holding on tightly.

Once Neetu di finished giving the necessary information, she joined them downstairs. Together, the three of them made their way toward home, the little bundle of pink in Sidharth’s arms bringing an unexpected warmth and light to his otherwise restless heart.

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