The private bus halted yet again, jerking slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Great," he muttered. "At this rate, we'll reach tomorrow afternoon instead of morning."
The driver seemed to stop wherever he pleased—tea stall, tree, shadow, imagination—no guarantee.
He was just about to scold the driver when he noticed new passengers boarding. His irritation evaporated like steam from a hot dosa, replaced by an involuntary smile.
Because she walked in.
A girl with long hair, a mask covering half her face, but even that couldn't hide the elegance in her posture or the softness in her movements. Her silhouette alone screamed elite beauty. She struggled adorably with her bag, trying to hoist it up the steps.
Before he could blink, some young fellow—looking like he desperately wanted to be the hero of her story—jumped forward and placed her bag on top.
He scoffed internally.
Ah, look at that. Show a pretty girl and suddenly men turn into bodybuilders.
Still… he smiled.
"Sir, seat number six?" Her voice floated to him—soft, melodic.
He straightened slightly. "Seat number six? That's my—"
Before he could finish the happy little movie that flashed in his head—where she would chase away the snoring man beside him and take that seat—the driver pointed elsewhere. She walked past him and sat beside an old woman two rows ahead.
His imaginary romantic movie ended in the first scene.
"Beautiful," he sighed dramatically to himself. "She walks in like a dream—and I'm stuck with the snoring machine."
He stuffed cotton into his ears and stared out the window. The night was deep, fields stretching endlessly on both sides. The clock struck 2 AM.
A while later, the bus stopped near a tiny roadside stall, hidden between fields like some secret checkpoint.
The driver called, "Tea! Anyone?"
He stepped out—part to stretch, part to breathe, part because he couldn't take the snoring anymore. The stall was dimly lit, surrounded by wide fields whispering with the night breeze. "This isn't even a proper road. Why am I here?" he thought
He lit a cigarette and exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the darkness.
As he finished one and lit another, a voice came—soft, hesitant, unmistakably hers.
"Sir… sir?"
He turned, startled for a moment. She stood there, mask still on, eyes gentle, expression polite.
"Sir… if you don't mind… could you please help me? Can you bring me some juice or fruit?" she asked, almost apologetically.
His mouth responded faster than his brain.
"What? Don't you have a mouth or legs? Go get it yourself!"
She froze—hurt, startled. She looked at the crowd of men around the stall and explained quietly, "Sir… there are many men there. You're taller… you can reach more easily. That's why I asked. Sorry."
She turned away to ask someone else.
He felt a tiny stab of guilt.
"Alright, I'll get it," he grumbled, grabbing the money from her hand like she owed him rent.
He walked to the stall, thinking, Which stall sells fruits at 2 AM? She's asking like this is a supermarket.
Surprisingly, he found bottled juices.
"Hey!" he called out. "Local brands. Will you drink these?"
"No fruits?" she asked hopefully.
He blinked at her. "What? This is a roadside stall! Be grateful they even have bottles!"
She hesitated. "Does the juice taste good?"
He stared. Did this girl think I did a PhD in juice tasting?
"Do I look like their loyal customer?"
"Sorry sir, I mean… is it really juice or—"
"Do you think I work in the factory packing these bottles?"
She sighed. "Please just bring whatever they have."
Before they could finish, two more buses arrived, crowding the already tiny stall.
The stall owner listed the options politely, "Orange, mixed fruit, guava…"
He turned to her again.
She asked, "Which one is good?"
He was ready to snap, so she quickly added, "Just pick one."
"Why didn't you say that earlier?" he muttered, ordering mixed fruit juice.
He paid, waved away the change, and rushed back to hand her the bottle—because the bus might leave any second.
Except…
It already had.
He froze. Two steps. Empty road.
"What happened to the bus!?" he shouted.
She looked up, mid-struggle with the juice cap. "Eh? Where's the bus?" she gasped.
"You were right there! Didn't you see it?" he barked.
"What do you mean, sir? I didn't see anything… oh god… did it really leave?"
He tried calling. No signal.
"Check your phone!" he insisted.
She opened her bag in slow-motion heroine mode, making him want to pull his hair out. He grabbed her phone—no signal.
He walked into the trees, holding both phones up like antennas. Meanwhile, the other two buses left as well.
He shouted, "Stop! Stop those buses!"
She blinked innocently. "Sir… those are not our buses… why would they stop?"
He stared at her like she said the Earth was flat.
"Do you have any idea where we are!? Look around—there is nothing but darkness and this stall light! At least if we boarded some bus, we would have reached civilization. You—are—utterly—useless."
He said it while still trying to catch a signal, breath heavy with frustration.
"Hey, from where did you even come? Brainless girl," he fumed. "If we had just boarded those buses, we could have caught ours or at least gotten off somewhere else. Look around! It's like a jungle! There's no light anywhere except this stall, and no village nearby. You're utterly useless!" he muttered, still checking his phone, wishing for a signal. As he had described, it truly felt like a wilderness; only the stall's dim light pierced the encroaching darkness.
The girl shivered, her fear palpable as she scanned the surroundings.
Her eyes widened with fear, scanning the dark surroundings. She trembled.
He paused.
"Hey… what happened? Feeling dizzy?" he asked gently, holding her wrist and checking her pulse.
"Yes…" she whispered.
"Did you eat anything?"
"I'm fasting…" she said.
He stared at her .
"Even if you feel dizzy, collapse of unconsciousness, fast shouldn't be broken? Who told you such nonsense!?" he shouted at her foolishness.
He gently took the bottle from her, opened it, and offered it back. She took a sip, her face twisting in distaste.
"Is it bad?"he asked.
He asked her to remove the mask so she could breathe more easily. She removed and he finally saw her beautiful face in awe.'She truly an elite beauty' ,he smiled to himself
" It tastes awful. Is there another flavour?" she asked, her voice faltering.
"Everything here tastes the same; these are all local brands. Just drink something, you look like you're about to collapse," he grumbled, though his concern was evident. As she considered discarding the juice bottle, his words made her pause, fearing his reaction. "Drink it," he insisted gently, and she reluctantly took another gulp.
Taking her hand, he led her to the stall owner. "Sir, we missed our bus. Are there any vehicles available here, even just to take us to the next bus stop?" he asked.
The stall owner replied, "Sir, this isn't even a highway. Look, it's just a dirt track. Buses come this way to avoid two toll booths to save money. These are the last buses for tonight; no more will come until the same time tomorrow". The stall owner began to pack up his belongings, preparing to close the small, ten-foot square shack.
They exchanged worried glances, wondering what to do next. He felt a surge of anger, but before he could utter a word, a distant jeep was approaching them, blaring loud disco music and boisterous shouts.As he suspected the jeep is filled with rouges who are drunk, and they all scream danger. Instinctively, he grabbed the girl's hand and swiftly pulled her inside the small stall, hiding her behind the door before the jeep's occupants could see them. "Shh," he whispered, gesturing for her to stay silent.
The men in the jeep looked like troublemakers, alcohol bottles in hand. "Hey, give us some cigarettes!" one of them demanded.
"How many do you want, brother? four and put it on my tab," the man shouted, replied the stall owner.
The men smoked and drank alcohol there for about an hour, while he and the girl huddled silently, their hearts pounding.
The stall owner, oblivious to their presence inside, locked up his shop. "Hey, did you see anyone around here?" he asked the men.
"What? Are you drunk? No one's here but you. Come on, let's go," one of them said, and they took the stall owner with them, driving away.