Scoffing, he switched off the television and turned toward an older man in the room. The middle-aged man exuded an aura of both power and experience—someone who had seen the heights of luxury and the depths of life's bitterness. Lost in thought, he remained silent, so the young man respectfully stood beside him.
After a long pause…
"Dad," the young man finally spoke, his voice uncertain. "Do we really have to go back there? I don't understand why—"
"Yes, we must," his father interrupted before he could finish.
His deep voice echoed through the room.
"Yes, we are going back."
Chahat stood at the orphanage gates, her heart heavy with emotions. She had spent her entire life within these walls, but today, she was stepping into a new journey. Holding back her tears, she waved goodbye to everyone, offering them a weak smile.
Taking a deep breath, she turned away and walked toward the waiting auto-rickshaw. She climbed in and instructed the driver to take her to the bus stand.
As the rickshaw rattled through the familiar streets, she kept her gaze fixed outside. Everything she had known—every brick, every tree, every memory—was being left behind. There was a strange ache in her chest, but alongside it, a spark of excitement burned brightly.
At the bus stand, she hurried to the enquiry counter. "Which bus is going to Shimla?" she asked.
The attendant, barely glancing up, pointed towards a bus parked at the far end. "That one. It leaves in ten minutes."
Chahat nodded, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag on her shoulder. With determined steps, she moved toward the bus, climbed in, and settled into a window seat.
Shimla—a place wrapped in beauty, yet hiding countless secrets.
"Beauty can be a blessing, or it can be a curse," she mused, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed out the window.
"I have to wait and see... what will Shimla bring into my life?" she whispered to herself.
Unlike most travelers who dozed off during long journeys, Chahat felt more awake than ever. The excitement bubbling inside her made sleep impossible. Every milestone the bus crossed, every twist and turn of the road, only heightened her anticipation.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't even realize when the bus came to a halt.
"Shimla, Shimla!" the conductor called out.
Chahat blinked, returning to reality. She looked outside—it was still dark. The bus station was lit by streetlights, but the surrounding mountains remained cloaked in shadows. A shiver ran down her spine, though she wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming feeling of finally arriving.
Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped off the bus. The chilly air instantly kissed her skin, making her hug herself for warmth. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of wet earth and pine.
"Shimla... where all my questions will be answered."
With renewed determination, she walked toward a small tea stall nearby. An elderly man was preparing chai, the strong aroma filling the air.
"Kaka, can you tell me the way to Hill Valley College?" she asked politely.
The old man looked at her with mild surprise. "Hill Valley College? It's quite far, beti. You should take a taxi."
"Is there a shortcut?"