The moment the jeep full of drunk rogues finally roared away into the darkness, silence fell like a heavy curtain. He immediately rushed to the door of the tiny ten-foot stall and tried to open it.
Clunk.
Locked.
He jerked the handle harder. Nothing. He pushed, kicked, shook it—pointlessly.
"Oh no…" she whispered, sinking straight into the corner like a wilted flower. "What do we do now?" Her voice trembled exactly like her hands.
He spun toward her, frustration exploding out of him like a match thrown into oil.
"WHAT do we do?" he repeated mockingly. "Shouldn't you have checked whether the bus was leaving? All this—ALL OF THIS—is because of you! I tried helping someone like you and look what happened. My luggage is gone! Do you even know how valuable it was, you foolish girl?"
His words hit her like slaps.
She stared at him, deeply hurt.
How can he speak without a single ounce of respect? I was dizzy, scared, confused… and this brute talks like I ruined his whole life?
She folded her arms, watching him rant, wondering how long he would continue.
He noticed her staring.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Are you planning to hit me?" he challenged.
She immediately looked away.
"Oh, so NOW you have attitude after doing all this? Unbelievable. Stupid girl…" he grumbled.
"Excuse me," she snapped softly, "Mind your words."
"Oh really?" His irritation rose—
Then suddenly he stopped. His eyes narrowed at her.
"What? You're dizzy again?"
"…Yes." Her voice was barely audible.
He exhaled sharply. "Drink the juice."
"I won't," she muttered. "It's awful."
"You're fasting and you refuse juice? Great. Perfect."
He rubbed his forehead. "Just drink it. What choice do we have? There's not even water."
She scanned the dirty, dark little stall—bare walls, no fan, no windowpanes, a broken rug in the corner—and hugged herself. The creeping darkness, the distant chirping of crickets, and the cold air made her feel smaller and more alone.
"Drink," he repeated.
She shook her head desperately. "I'll throw up."
"Fine." He stood, walked around the stall searching for anything—and returned with vegetables.
A cucumber. A bottle gourd. Two tomatoes. Two carrots.
He placed them in front of her. "Eat."
She blinked. "What am I supposed to do with these?"
"These are all we have. If you don't eat, your BP will drop. Then what? Eat whatever you like."
Reluctantly, she wiped a tomato with her shawl and bit into it.
He watched—a little too intently.
"Are you hungry too?" she offered innocently, not noticing the why he staring at her lips. "You can eat if you want…"
He instantly turned away.
After she reached for a second tomato, he stopped her.
"No. Don't eat the tomato. Eat something else."
"What? Now you'll tell me WHAT to eat too?" she asked, annoyed.
He leaned closer. His voice dropped, low and rough.
"Do. Not. Eat. The tomato. Eat something else. Trust me. If you don't, then don't blame me for my actions later."
Their eyes locked—
A strange, warm tension flickered between them.
For some reason she couldn't explain, she obeyed, picking up a carrot instead. She ate slowly, and for the first time tonight, a small smile touched her lips 'Thank god now she doesn't feel dizzy anymore'.
He went back to the door, kicking it high and hard.
The stall shook.
She gasped. "What if it breaks?!"
"I WANT it to break!" he snapped. "Otherwise, \ what do you want us to do? Sit here and meditate with no water?"
He kept kicking, trying everything—hands, legs, shoulders—but the door stayed stubborn.
Frustrated, he sank beside her.
She pushed the remaining vegetables toward him. "You eat. I don't need them."
She shivered violently. Cold air blew through the broken window frame.
He watched her for a moment—then silently got up, dusted the rug he was sitting on, and handed it to her.
"Cover yourself. You're freezing."
"Ugh. No… isn't there anything else?" she asked with a childlike frown.
He stared at her. Then smirked.
"Oh sure. Just wait—I'll call room service and ask for a blanket, a heater, maybe even hot chocolate?"
"Why are you so sarcastic?" she snapped.
He spread his hands. "Do you SEE this place? What exactly do you expect me to give you?"
She finally wrapped herself—shawl first, then rug—and curled up like a scared kitten. Exhaustion dragged her under, and she fell asleep.
He didn't sleep for a long time.
He watched the moonlight through the window… then watched her.
"So beautiful…" he murmured to himself.
Hours passed.
She woke up at dawn to find him asleep, head resting against the wall.
Peaceful. Quiet.
Shockingly handsome.
"He looks so innocent when he's not shouting…" she thought.
Weakness overwhelmed her again, and she drifted back to sleep.
When she woke next, it was 11.
"Oh no—it's eleven already?! Did someone come?"
He didn't even look up from his phone.
"Oh yes," he said dryly, "Trump and Modi came. Asked if we needed anything. I told them the hospitality is five-star, so they left."
"Why are you like this?" she asked, irritated. "I asked a normal question."
"Oh, please. You think I'm as dumb as YOU? Of course, I'd wake you if someone came." He started again, "Why didn't you stop those buses? No common sense. God forgot to give you a brain—did you escape from a mental hospital?"
She clenched her jaw. He kept going like a machine.
She forced herself to stay calm. "Can I… eat something now?" she asked in a tiny voice—mostly so he would stop yelling.
He turned away. "Whatever."
She ate the last carrot. Then stared helplessly at the bottle gourd and cucumber.
"What do I do with these?"
"Eat them."
"How?!"
He picked up the big round cucumber, squeezed—
CRACK.
It split cleanly in two.
She froze.
"Oh my god… if he got angry and crushed my head like that, I'd be DEAD."
He smirked. She wasn't sure if she imagined it.
They shared the cucumber, both thirsty to the point of agony.
She looked out the window and whispered dramatically, "The water pot… it's right there. Just two steps away…"
He looked into her eyes.
"Yes. Thirst is within reach… but unattainable."
She nodded sadly. "Right…"
He smirked at her dumbness, or should we call it innocence.
Time crawled.
Her dizziness returned.
Silence settled.
And then—
VROOOOM.
Three vehicles approached.
They both shot up.
He pulled her behind him instantly. "Hide. Stay behind me."
Her heart fluttered strangely.
He might insult her like a demon, but in danger… this man stood like a shield.
The men who arrived were old, rugged villagers—nothing like the previous rogues. The stall owner was with them.
She nearly cried from relief.
"Oh god, I'm not this happy even when I see Lord Venkateswara in Tirupati! Open the door, please!" she begged.
The stall owner opened it.
They BURST out and ran to the water pot like two people escaping desert punishment.
She gulped glass after glass.
He picked up the whole pot and drank directly.
Water dripped down their faces, clothes soaked.
They looked at each other and laughed breathlessly.
Nothing tastes as heavenly as water.
Then… silence.
Twenty stern old men stared at them.
He straightened awkwardly. "Hello… we missed our bus yesterday. Can you arrange a vehicle? Or maybe drop us off at the bus stand in your vehicles?"
What followed next
…turned their lives upside down.