The house was small but clean, tucked away in a quiet lane on the outskirts of Mumbai. The old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Sharma, had given Chandani a warm meal, a spare mattress in their living room, and words of reassurance.

"You're safe here, beta. Rest tonight. Tomorrow will be better."

Chandani had barely slept. Even with their kindness, her body remained tense, her mind reeling from the betrayal she had faced.

By morning, as she helped Mrs. Sharma prepare tea, guilt gnawed at her. She was a burden. She had to find a way to stand on her own.

"I can't thank you enough for taking me in," she murmured.

Mrs. Sharma patted her hand. "Think of us as your own."

Chandani's throat tightened at those words. My own. She had no one now.

She forced a small smile. "Once I find a job, I won't trouble you. I'll move out as soon as I can."

Mr. Sharma, who had been reading the newspaper, looked up. "No rush, beti. But if you need work, I might know someone."

Chandani's heart lifted. "Really?"

He nodded. "A friend runs a hotel. He's looking for a receptionist. He pays twelve thousand a month."

Relief flooded her. "I'll take it!"

He chuckled. "Good. I'll take you there myself tomorrow."

Mrs. Sharma beamed. "See? Things are already looking up."

Chandani clung to those words like a lifeline.

Maybe, just maybe, her life was about to change for the better.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

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The next day, Mr. Sharma led her through the crowded streets of Mumbai. Chandani followed him, her heart thrumming with nervous excitement. The hotel was supposed to be near the city center. But as they walked, the surroundings grew unfamiliar-narrower streets, faded buildings, fewer people. A nagging feeling settled in her chest.

"Is it much farther?" she asked.

Mr. Sharma didn't look at her. "Just ahead."

Doubt crept in, but she pushed it aside. He had helped her. He wouldn't-

They stopped outside a rundown building. The windows were tinted, the neon sign flickering weakly.

Chandani frowned. This doesn't look like a hotel. Before she could ask, a woman stepped out. She was tall, draped in a dark saree, her lips painted a deep red. Her gaze raked over Chandani, a smirk playing on her lips.

"12,000?" the woman asked casually.

Chandani blinked in confusion.

Mr. Sharma nodded. "Yes. She's yours now."

The ground beneath her vanished.

Chandani's breath hitched as she looked at Mr. Sharma. "W-What are you talking about?"

The woman chuckled. "Oh, they never see it coming, do they?"

A chill slithered down Chandani's spine. Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

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The first thing Chandani noticed was the smell-thick, cloying, suffocating. A sickening mix of sweat, cheap perfume, and something rotten clung to the damp air, making her stomach churn.

Her head throbbed, her body heavy, as if something had been slipped into her food. She tried to move, but a sharp, burning pain shot through her wrists. Her eyes flew open.

Darkness. Faint yellow light flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows against cracked, blood-stained walls. Her breath hitched. She was sitting on a rusting metal chair, hands bound behind her back with thick, coarse ropes.

Fear tightened in her throat.

A soft chuckle made her snap her head toward the corner of the room.

A woman sat before a cracked vanity, applying deep red lipstick with slow, practiced strokes. The mirror reflected her face-a bored smirk as she glanced at Chandani through the glass.

"Finally awake, huh?"

Chandani swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "Where am I?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. She capped her lipstick and stood, adjusting the tight blouse stretched across her body.

"The old couple," Chandani stammered, dread creeping in. "Mr. and Mrs. Sharma... they said they would help me."

The woman scoffed. "Let me guess, they gave you a warm meal, a bed, promised you safety?" Her smirk widened. "And then they sold you?"

Chandani's breath caught.

No. No, that couldn't be true.

"They wouldn't -"

"They did." The young woman folded her arms. "You're not the first girl to fall for it."

A chill slithered down Chandani's spine. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Just yesterday, she had been safe or at least, she'd thought so.

A sudden creak made her jump as the door swung open. A heavyset woman strode in, draped in heavy gold jewelry that jingled with each step. Her kohl-lined eyes assessed Chandani like a hunter inspecting prey.

"She's awake," the woman by the vanity muttered.

The madam's lips curled. "Good. She's got the face. The innocence. The clients will pay well for her."

Chandani's stomach twisted violently. She thrashed against the ropes, but it was useless.

The madam snapped her fingers. A man entered, holding a red dress. "Get her ready."

The young woman at the vanity sighed but obeyed. She walked over, yanking the knots free. Chandani barely had a second to react before her arms were seized.

"Let me go!" she screamed, struggling as hands forced her up.

The madam laughed, a low, amused sound. "Struggle all you want, girl. It won't change anything."

Chandani kicked, twisted, but the woman was stronger. With swift, practiced movements, she stripped Chandani of her clothes and shoved the red dress over her trembling body. It clung to her uncomfortably, the fabric thin and too revealing.

Her wrists were seized again. Cold metal clamped around them-gold bangles, heavy and jingling. The woman shoved dark kohl around her eyes, staining her skin, then smeared lipstick over her trembling lips.

"Perfect," the madam purred.

Chandani panted, her chest heaving. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

The door opened again. A man stepped in, his cold gaze sweeping over her.

"She's ready," the madam announced.

Chandani flinched as the man grabbed her arm, yanking her forward.

No. No. No!

Her nails dug into his skin as she fought. "I won't-!"

A hard slap cracked across her face.

Her head snapped to the side, pain exploding across her cheek.

The madam's eyes gleamed. "You will."

Chandani's legs trembled as she was dragged toward the door. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

She had to do something. Anything.

But then- "Psst."

A whisper.

Chandani turned.

The woman from the vanity was suddenly beside her, her lips pressed in a tight line.

The madam was distracted, speaking to a tall wealthy looking man whose gaze was lingering over chandani's body.

Chandani shivered in disgust feeling his gaze on her.

The young woman slipped something cold into Chandani's palm. A blade.

Chandani's eyes widened.

"Cut yourself free," she murmured. "Run. Now."

Chandani's fingers tightened around the blade. "Why are you helping me?" she rasped.

The young woman's expression darkened. "Because someone once helped me... and I never got to return the favor."

A distant pain flickered in her gaze, but she shook her head. "Go."

Chandani's pulse pounded.

She hesitated for only a second.

Then, with a sharp breath, she sliced through the ropes.

The madam turned. "What the-?!"

Chandani bolted.

A shout erupted behind her.

"Stop her!"

She didn't look back.

Her bare feet pounded against the cold floor as she burst into the hallway. The scent of alcohol and sweat filled her nostrils, voices rising in alarm.

She ran faster.

A hand lunged for her, but she twisted away, darting through a half-open door. The humid night air hit her as she stumbled outside.

The city was alive with neon lights, the streets damp from fresh rain.

She sprinted, lungs burning, ignoring the leering gazes of drunk men.

Then-

A blaring horn.

The blinding flash of headlights.

Her body slammed onto the wet pavement, pain searing through her like fire. Her vision blurred as the world tilted sideways, her ears ringing from the impact.

At some distance, the car door shut with a soft thud.

Footsteps approached steadily and calmly. Not rushed or threatening.

Chandani stirred slowly, her lashes trembling as her eyes blinked open weakly. Through the fog of pain and exhaustion, she saw the faint outline of a black car parked under the streetlight.

A man stepped out.

His posture was upright, his steps were careful as if trying not to startle her.

She couldn't make out his face, only the glow of his white shirt beneath his coat and the way he paused at a distance, just watching her for a moment.

Not with suspicion. Not with judgment. But with quiet concern.

Chandani's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her body ached. Her mind swirled. Still, she noticed how he didn’t rush to her side or bark out orders.

He simply stood there— gentle, unsure, like a man trying to understand what had just happened.

'He doesn't look like a monster… but then again, neither did the last one.'

She thought to herself.

And just before the darkness swallowed her whole, one last thought clawed its way through her mind-

'I escaped one hell... only to fall into another.'

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Who do you think is this man?

And what is this hell chandani talked about?

Is she in danger again?

Stay tuned to find out! 🫶🏼

Missed me? I know you did, my cute little orchids 🫂✨

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@/purpleorchidsss

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