The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the streets of Ahmedabad. Kaushal navigated through the bustling city, the sound of honking horns and chattering crowds filling the air. He g the time on his dashboard—6:45 PM. Still plenty of light left, but he o get home before the night settled in.

  “Just a few more minutes,” he murmured to himself, adjusting his grip oeering wheel. The grey shirt he wore g slightly from the heat, while the white pants felt cool against his skin. They’d been a st-minute choice, but he felt they matched the urgency of the day.

  His phone buzzed, startling him. He fished it out of his pocket, heart rag as he saw his mother’s name fsh across the s.

  “Ma?” he answered, his voice steady despite the quii of his heart.

  “Kaushal, we’ve just reached Ahmedabad station!” Reha’s voice crackled through the speaker, a tinge of excitement g her words. “The train’s slightly deyed, though. I think it’ll be another hour.”

  “Another hour? Are you all okay?” Kaushal’s brow furrowed, flooding his thoughts.

  “Yes, yes! Just a little tired. Your father went to get tea from the stall. He says he needs a rexation drink before the long ride to Haridwar,” she chuckled, the sound lifting some weight off his shoulders.

  “Good. Just stay safe, alright? I’ll keep my phone close.”

  “Don’t worry, beta. We’ll be fine. Just keep driving carefully,” Reha replied.

  A sudden crash echoed through the phone, punctuating her words. Kaushal’s heart dropped.

  “Ma? What was that?” The tension in his voice alpable.

  “Nothing, nothing! Just a suitcase falling. I’ll call you when we’re orain, okay? Love you!”

  “Love you too!” Kaushal said, but the call ended abruptly. He stared at the s, the buzzing silence pressing down on him.

  His gut twisted as he rolled through a crowded street. The atmosphere had shifted. People were scattered, some screaming, others shouting in what sounded like panic. His eyes darted around, searg for the source of the otion.

  Suddenly, a group of men charged toward the station, faces obscured by masks, eyes abze with fury. Kaushal’s breath caught in his throat.

  “No, no, no…” he whispered, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

  He parked hastily, heart pounding as he leapt out of the car.

  “Hey! What’s happening?” he shouted at a bystander, a young woman with wide, terrified eyes.

  “They’re attag! They’re burning the coaches!” she screamed, pointing towards the station.

  Kaushal’s stomach twisted as he g the station. Fmes flickered in the distance, a cruel dance e and red against the darkening sky.

  “No!” he yelled, sprinting towards the chaos.

  His phone buzzed again, but he ig, fog instead oing to his family.

  “Ma! Baba!” he called out, his voice swallowed by the growing cacophony of panic.

  He rouhe er, and the sight that met his eyes sent a shockwave through his veins.Two of the coaches were engulfed ihick bck smoke billowing into the air, choking the life out of the space around it.

  “Get back!” a voice yelled, but Kaushal couldn’t move.

  “Ma!” he screamed again, desperation g at his throat.

  Frantic, he fumbled for his phone, dialing her number, his hands shaking.

  Ring.

  “e on, pick up!”

  Ring.

  Nothing but static. The fmes roared, and he could hear the terrified screams of those trapped inside.

  “Help!” a voice cried from within the coach.

  Kaushal’s heart shattered. The world around him dissolved into a blur of fire and chaos.

  “Someone, anyone, help!”

  “Shut it down!” a man shouted, raising a bottle filled with what looked like gasoline.

  “No!” Kaushal lunged forward, but the crowd surged, pushing him back, away from the inferno.

  “Stay back!” someone barked, but Kaushal’s mind was a tempest. His family was in there.

  “Ma!” he bellowed, the sound raw and desperate.

  He pushed through the throng, adrenaline c through his veins as he fought against the tide of fear and ahe fmes crackled, spitting embers into the air, and the acrid smell of smoke cwed at his nostrils.

  “Help me! They’re in there!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

  “Get to safety!” a woman cried, pulling at his arm.

  “No! I ’t leave them!”

  Then he saw them—his father’s familiar frame, his mother’s kind face, both caught in the chaos.

  “Ma!” he shouted, eyes filled with tears and smoke blurring his vision.

  “Kaushal!” Reha’s voice rang through the chaos, filled with fear and despair.

  “Hold on! I’m ing!”

  He surged forward, his heart pounding like a drum against his ribcage.

  “Get out! Get out!” he shouted, lunging towards the door.

  But the heat was unbearable. Fmes licked at his skin, and the smoke ed around him, a suffog embrace.

  “Kaushal!” his mother’s voice pierced through the chaos, but it was growing distant, fading.

  “Ma!”

  He stumbled, the world spinning as he felt the heat scorch his back.

  The st thing he saw before darkness closed in was the flicker of fmes, the dread in his mother’s eyes, and the shadow of fury outside the coach.

  And then, silence.

  The chaos faded, leaving only the echo of despair, the burni of loss, and the haunting realization that he was too te as his eyes closed filled with despair.