Ankhush's fingers tightened around his phone as he finished reading. His breath came in short, uneven bursts.
His mind raced. Too fast. Too chaotic. Too terrifying.
"If Nezumi represents me… and Kokoro represents Mansh… does that mean I'm next? No—wait. That means Mansh is in danger first."
A shiver ran down his spine as realization struck.
"What should I do? Should I protect myself? Or should I protect my friend?"
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had to decide—now.
Ankhush's mind raced, his thoughts colliding in a chaotic frenzy. There has to be a way. A way to save them both.
His breath came in short, uneven gasps as he grabbed his phone with trembling hands. The bright screen glowed mockingly in the dimly lit room.
8:00 AM.
His heart pounded against his ribs. Thirty minutes. That was all he had. Not a second more.
A lump formed in his throat as he quickly scrolled through his contacts, his fingers barely able to keep steady. He pressed Mansh's name and brought the phone to his ear, swallowing the growing panic in his chest.
Ring.
The sound felt deafening in the silent room.
Ring.
His grip on the phone tightened. Pick up.Please, just pick up.
Ring.
Nothing.
Ankhush's stomach twisted painfully. He glanced at the clock again—8:01 AM. Every second felt like a grain of sand slipping through his fingers.
With a shaky breath, he redialed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Still, there was no answer.
A cold, sinking feeling settled deep in his chest. His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant. What now? He had to do something. He couldn't just sit there, wasting time—not when Mansh's life was on the line.
His body tensed, instincts screaming at him.
If he won't answer the phone… I have to find him myself.
Ankhush's pulse pounded in his ears as he clutched his phone tightly, his fingers cold and clammy. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.
Why isn't he answering?
His heart sank deeper with each unanswered call. Desperation clawed at his chest as he quickly switched to texting.
"Mansh, pick up! It's urgent!"
"Please, call me back ASAP!"
"You're in danger, don't go outside!"
He stared at the screen, waiting. Three dots. Then nothing. The messages remained unread.
His throat tightened. Damn it. He had to act fast.
His gaze flicked to the next best option—Mansh's mother. Without hesitation, he tapped her contact and pressed the call button.
Ring.
His breath hitched.
Ring.
His fingers dug into his palm.
Click.
A voice, warm yet slightly surprised, came through the speaker.
"Hello? Ankhush?"
Ankhush swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice.
"Aunty, is Mansh home?"
Ankhush's breath hitched. A cold dread coiled around his chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Mansh… left a while ago?"
His grip on the phone tightened. His mind raced, piecing everything together in frantic desperation.
If Mansh represents Kokoro in the novel… and Kokoro was nearly hit by a truck…
His stomach twisted violently.
No. No. There was no time to think. He had to act.
"Mansh's mom, is Mansh there?" he asked, his voice barely steady.
There was a brief pause. Then, her confused voice came through.
"Mansh isn't home. He said he was coming over to your house. He left a while ago."
Ankhush felt his blood run cold.
"No, no, no—this is exactly like the novel—"
He didn't even think. His mind screamed at him to move. To act now.
"I don't have time to explain! I have to go!" he blurted, cutting the call before she could respond.
His fingers trembled as he shoved the phone into his pocket. His legs moved before his brain could catch up.
He had to find Mansh. Now.
Mansh's mother frowned, her brow furrowing deeply as unease settled over her. Something's not right… she thought, gripping the phone tighter. Mansh had told her about his mother's near-assault not long ago. He had seemed shaken, but he hadn't shown signs of desperation. Yet now, Ankhush—his usually composed friend—sounded anything but calm. He wasn't just worried. He was frantic.
Meanwhile, Ankhush tore through the streets, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His heart slammed against his ribs with every step. His mind was in chaos, flooded with worst-case scenarios. Where could he be? His hands clenched into fists as he pushed himself to run faster. He couldn't afford to waste a single second.
Then—
A sudden, jarring impact.
Ankhush didn't even have time to react. One moment, he was running at full speed, his mind solely focused on finding Mansh. The next—
BAM!
The deafening crash of metal against flesh.
The force sent him hurtling through the air, his body twisting unnaturally as he tumbled across the pavement. Agonizing pain erupted in every nerve, white-hot and unbearable. His ears rang. His vision blurred. The world spun in chaotic disarray.
Then—darkness.
Everything faded.
Moments later, footsteps echoed in the distance. Fast. Unsteady. Desperate.
Mansh arrived, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the horrific scene before him.
Ankhush lay sprawled across the ground, motionless. His clothes, once clean, were now drenched in crimson. Blood seeped onto the pavement, pooling beneath him.
Mansh's entire body went rigid. A chilling sensation crawled up his spine.
This wasn't happening.
It couldn't be happening.
"Ankhush!!"
Mansh's voice tore through the air, raw with panic as he sprinted toward his fallen friend. His heart pounded violently in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice.
Dropping to his knees, he frantically pressed two fingers against Ankhush's neck. Please… please…
A pulse. Weak, but steady.
Relief washed over him for a fleeting second before urgency took over once more. His trembling hands fumbled as he yanked out his phone, barely managing to dial emergency services.
"H-Hello? A boy—my friend—he's been hit by a truck! He's unconscious—he's bleeding—please, send an ambulance! Quickly!"
His voice cracked. His breaths came in short, erratic gasps. He struggled to form coherent sentences, but somehow, the dispatcher got the necessary details.
Within minutes, the wailing sirens filled the air. Red and blue lights bathed the street in harsh, flashing colors. The paramedics wasted no time. They assessed Ankhush swiftly, their faces unreadable, their movements precise.
Mansh watched helplessly as they lifted Ankhush onto a stretcher, securing him with care before loading him into the ambulance.
Then, the doors shut.
The vehicle sped away, leaving Mansh frozen on the roadside, the weight of the moment crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
—
Later that day, Mansh found himself standing beside Ankhush's hospital bed, his fingers curled into tight fists at his sides.
The sterile white room felt unbearably cold. The rhythmic beep… beep… beep… of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
Ankhush lay motionless, his face pale, his body still. The sight sent a sharp pang through Mansh's chest.
He swallowed hard.
He had so many things he wanted to say.
But for now… he could only watch.
A surge of guilt crashed over Mansh like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless.
This is my fault…
His fingers clenched into tight fists at his sides. His throat burned.
I should have been there for him. I should have answered his call when he needed me…
His gaze remained fixed on Ankhush's motionless form. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only reassurance that his friend was still alive. But it wasn't enough.
A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything that had happened. How had things spiraled so far out of control?
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, lost in his thoughts, watching over his unconscious friend.
But when he finally turned to leave, his steps were steady. His jaw set with determination.
He had made up his mind.
Mansh took a slow, shaky breath. The weight of his emotions pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting.
I have to do something…
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. He couldn't just stand here, drowning in guilt. Ankhush had always been there for him—always looking out for him, always ready to help, no matter the situation. And now, once again, Mansh owed him his life.
The thought stung.
Silently, he turned and walked out of the hospital.
He didn't know if a simple gesture would ever be enough, but he needed to try.
A few minutes later, he found himself at a small flower shop. His gaze wandered over the arrangements—bright, vibrant colors, delicate petals, fragile yet full of life. He hesitated before finally picking a bouquet.
It wasn't much, but maybe… maybe it could express the gratitude that words never could.
Even if Ankhush wasn't awake to see it yet, Mansh was determined.
He would make things right.