That night of 14th January, 2009 was not ordinary— it was the kind that drenched every corner in despair.

  The downpour raged in the dead of the night. The clouds swallowed the sky, as if heaven itself was restless.

  The silence between the thunder was neither peaceful nor eerie, just heavy with pain.

  The air stank of garbage, damp rust and wet dogs— but amidst this, a single streetlight flickered like it could die any moment.

  The bare glow cut through the curtain of rain, witnessing the arrival of two shadows, stretched unnaturally long.

  "We should have been careful! A few moments of pleasure… and now this?! You couldn't even last for fifteen minutes!"

  A young lady shouted, shivering and drenched, but wild with anger.

  A young man walked beside her, grabbing onto a heavy, black bag like it was poisonous.

  He didn't speak even a bit. Though the rain drenched him, the guilt held him more than anything else.

  His face was pale, expressionless, as he let the bag drop into a trashbin.

  The sound was sickening— a muffled thud of something fragile inside.

  "We… can't handle him."

  He lingered for a second, his lips trembling at the crime he did.

  He turned away instantly, walking away as if he wanted to forget it.

  The girl followed him, whispering excuses to try to calm herself down, "We are too young… no one saw it too."

  They walked into the darkness, their footsteps slowly disappearing in the storm.

  Minutes passed, and then hours. The bag remained unnoticed and ignored, until—

  A pack of stray dogs arrived. There were five.

  Snarling, they dragged the bag out and circled it, their noses twitching.

  One of them tore it apart, claws snatching and teeth ripping excitedly.

  Inside, a small hand slipped out— the pale hand of a newborn. No sound. No movement.

  The dog growled, ready to tear the flesh apart.

  But just before it happened, a wooden stick flew towards the dogs.

  CRACK!

  The sharp wood hit the dogs. They began to yelp and ran away far into the night.

  An old man, frail and weak, hit the ground with his walking stick until the dogs were out of sight.

  Harinarayan Chaturvedi, the owner of a nearby orphanage had protected the bag.

  He knelt in the puddle, unbothered of his bright white clothes, and he pulled the bag to him.

  His hands shivered as he held the little, lifeless body of a baby, probably born just hours before.

  For a second, his wrinkled face hardened, expecting death before the life of the kid began.

  He began to cover the baby's body in his shawl.

  But then, the silence between the thundering was filled with something unique… and hopeful.

  A sound pierced through the air. A cry of the baby. Thin at first, then louder, desperate and mainly, alive.

  The old man exhaled shakily, as if he just regained his own life, his lips trembling into a faint, yet gentle smile.

  He stroked the baby gently, and whispered,

  "Ronak… the light."

  The rain slowed down, like the sky was finally relieved. The baby, once abandoned, found his new life in the orphanage.

  And in that moment, when the night aligned with fate, Ronak Chaturvedi was truly born.

  ——————————————

  But in the present, the same Ronak was losing the spark of his life, breathing unevenly.

  He was sprawled on the ground, blood streaking his face and Anaya's hand, who was still kneeling beside him.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, her hands trembling as she pressed against the wound.

  But every moment seemed futile.

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  Above them, Tara stood quietly. Her sheer calmness seemed to be more deadly than any laughter.

  Her eyes were glinting with something far colder than anger— it was satisfaction.

  And in that moment, Yug stopped.

  "Ronak… he didn't stop," all heads turned towards him, "He never stopped talking about you. Even when I thought he would… he didn't!"

  Yug's voice cracked with rage, "He never stopped thinking about you, Tara!"

  Tara barely flinched, her expressions unreadable, "So what?"

  Her words were not different from ice.

  Something inside Yug snapped. His fists clenched as he ran towards her.

  Suddenly, a flicker ran through his blue eyes— his pupils momentarily vanished into white, like a glitch in reality.

  It was the monstrous awakening that once ran through his body.

  Tarun saw it, eyes widening with fear and suspicion, "Those eyes… with Vijay?!"

  He knew the danger, and he shoved Kritika aside to move just in time.

  Yug's fists shot through, like a cannonball, towards Tara with unstrained fury.

  "Ronak admired you the most… Tara!"

  But before it could land, Tarun leapt in between.

  He took the full force of the blow on his gut, his body shivering with the impact moments after.

  Wind was knocked out of him, but he stood unshaken, still standing as his muscles tightened.

  Yug's eyes went back to normal the moment his eyes met Tarun's.

  Tarun gasped between breaths, locking his eyes with Yug with a surprisingly calm anger.

  "If this is who you become… how are you different from Vijay! Do you want to be him, Yug Verma?!"

  Yug froze as he was struck with realisation. He knew the answer— everyone knew it was a no.

  His body eased, the unchained fury simmered into controlled tension.

  Tara tilted her head, smiling through the intensity, "Aw! Friendship seems so sweet."

  As both the boys turned their heads, a swift, yet quick swirl of wind passed across.

  And in that heartbeat of a pause, Anaya ran past all of them and struck Tara with all that she had.

  The strike landed with all the emotions stirred inside Anaya. Tara went unconscious, falling down with a thud as her cruel smile vanished.

  Yug and Tarun exchanged a brief glance, unaware of what just happened.

  But they understood the unpredictability of the situation— relief, shock and wariness.

  But, from above the roller coaster, another pair of eyes witnessed the whole scene.

  The person's hands were folded and the eyes were analysing the situation.

  And just when Tara fell limp, the other person began to move into action.

  ——————————————

  The morning light barely filtered through the dusty windows of the orphanage.

  The faint trace of the chalk lingered in the little classroom.

  Ronak, barely five, ran through the corridor with his small and wiry body.

  But then, his eyes darted towards the commotion in the dining room.

  A little girl, no older than Ronak, was surrounded by older boys with sharp laughter and cruel intentions.

  She clutched her little lunchbox close to her chest, but it did nothing to the shoves and taunts.

  She was Anaya Kapoor.

  Ronak wasted no time, placing himself between the girl and the tormentors.

  "Leave alone!" He shouted, his small voice cracked with defiance.

  The others sneered, not used to someone standing up against them. They instantly grabbed him by his collar, shoved him to the ground and began to beat him.

  "You don't teach us what to do, little one. Learn to speak first!"

  One of them laughed, kicking at Ronak's abdomen.

  The other one spit on him, letting him go.

  "Let's leave him. First mistakes are acceptable."

  Ronak didnt try to retaliate and ran away as fast as he could. And as he went far, Anaya's hopes slowly faded away.

  "Now it's your turn, little piece of sh*t!"

  The boys grinned, ready to snatch the lunchbox from Anaya's hands.

  And just when one of the boys extended his hand towards Anaya—

  SMACK!

  A broom hit the boy's temple, sending a sharp sensation of pain across his body.

  As the boys turned around, they saw Ronak, breathing heavily who was still determined to save Anaya, even though he didn't know her.

  Despite the fury in his eyes, Ronak was easily overpowered by those boys.

  They held him by his hair and dragged him across the orphanage— none of the kids dared to intervene.

  Ronak was thrown into the dark, in a storage room no one ever entered.

  The door closed with a heavy thud, leaving Ronak in nothing but emptiness and darkness.

  Time passed, unknown by Ronak and his pain.

  He was crouched in a corner, his body trembling and his mind hopeless.

  Then, he heard the noise outside— the noise of firecrackers, laughters and the festival the kids of the orphanage went to.

  Though the distant drums and the clangs of the bells reached his ears, his body wanted nothing but food and water.

  Hunger gnawed in his stomach, thirst burned his throat and fear clung onto him like skin.

  Later, after what felt like an eternity, the creak of the door caught Ronak's attention.

  A small figure slipped in first, her hair wet and tangled due to the rain— Anaya.

  She battled through the fear, and finally saved Ronak with high determination.

  Behind her, another figure followed carefully who held Ronak in his arms like his own son.

  It was Harinarayan, who wasn't in the town until that moment.

  "Are you good, Ronak?" A pleasant voice, laced with concern and relief, made Ronak forget all of his pain and fear.

  He grabbed the old man with his tiny hands and succumbed into his huge body.

  "Yes… nothing can happen to Ronak!"

  He nodded weakly, exhausted and trembling.

  And then, a tear dripped. Then another one came, and then the third one.

  Slowly, he began to cry, and finally burst into tears with whom he found all his comfort in.

  Harinarayan cradled him like a fragile bird, making sure Ronak feels safe.

  Slowly, as Ronak's tears disappeared, he looked at Anaya, the little girl who witnessed all of it.

  Anaya smiled at him, faint and warm. And in that moment of 2016, a bond formed— a quiet bond that would shape their futures together.

  ——————————————

  The faint light of the carnival reflected off the control panel. Sparks flew in a steady rhythm, matching the tension lingering in the air.

  But none of it diverted Rishabh— sweat glistened on his eyebrow and his fingers trembled as he aligned the circuits.

  Finally, hope gleamed in his eyes— the hope that kept him moving to this outcome.

  He was just a click away to bring back the power supply of the complete.

  His finger hovered over the keyboard, when suddenly, a violent force pushed him back, his heavy body surprisingly flying like thin paper.

  His body was inches away from crashing into a metal support beam, breath leaving him in a rush.

  But before the clash happened, strong hands grabbed him, yanking him into safety.

  Farhan, who just saved Rishabh, turned his gaze towards the new attackers. And then—

  His soul seemed to have left his body. His face lost all vigour as he was stunned at who the attacker was.

  His usual confidence vanished, replaced by disbelief.

  "Snap out of it!" Rishabh barked, his hands crashing across Farhan's cheeks, slapping him back to his senses.

  "It doesn't matter who you feel! Fight now!"

  Farhan slowly got up, like a switch being flicked.

  He shook off the shock, leaping into fray.

  Rishabh quickly got into action, adrenaline rushing throughout his body too.

  He shouted out instructions, gesturing hurriedly.

  Together, they made a good team, landing effective blows that staggered the attacker.

  But the happiness lasted for a while.

  Farhan's fight was carried by his emotions, which didn't let him fight for long.

  Farhan began to falter, the attackers strength overwhelming him.

  He stumbled back, barely able to control his stance and just then, the unexpected happened.

  The attacker ran in a high speed, and he leapt— he turned his hips, landing kicks on Farhan so quickly that none of them saw it coming.

  This time, it was Farhan who was sent flying back, the force pinning him to the support beam.

  Rishabh was left alone to face the danger.

  Rishabh's chest heaved, adrenaline pumping even faster through every vein.

  He got into an imperfect stance, ready to fight, but the attacker's slithering voice crawled onto his ears.

  "You think you can handle me, fatass?"

  The voice hissed through the air, cruel and biting.

  But Rishabh ignored the jeers, clenching his fists as his heart roared.

  The man didn't hold back either, rushing into the fight before Rishabh could even put his guard.

  One jab, followed by an uppercut, and then a kick to his chest.

  Each attack came in a flurry and seemed to have sent a shockwave throughout Rishabh's body.

  He couldn't match the opponent in raw strength or in technique. But there was something he was ahead in— willpower and intellect.

  The man held Rishabh's collar and yanked him into a sharp headbutt, which sent him dragging across the ground.

  As blood dripped through his head, his eyes gleamed with something new. His face slowly grew into a smile— he had an idea.

  He knew it would work, his hopes high and brain calculating through all the possibilities.

  Rishabh grinned through th

  e pain, spitting out sweat mixed with blood.

  "I'm not Yug… I'm not Tarun."

  He got up, dusting the gravel off his body and getting into the same weak stance.

  But this time, it was fueled with his belief.

  "I can't stand in fire like them… but I'm Rishabh!"