Darkness swallowed the house instantly.
The ceiling fan stopped.
The television died mid-sound.
Even the rain outside suddenly felt louder.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Then Meera whispered nervously,
“Nila, bring the candles.”
Lightning flashed briefly through the windows, illuminating the living room in pale white light before disappearing again.
Raghavan stood near the sofa, staring toward the front door.
Still no Arjun.
Thunder shook the sky violently.
Nila hurried toward the kitchen drawers searching for candles while rain battered the house from every direction.
The power outage spread across the entire street.
Outside, the neighborhood looked drowned in darkness.
Only distant headlights cut through the storm occasionally before vanishing again.
Meera clutched her phone tightly.
Still no answer from Arjun.
Call failed.
Again.
And again.
“He never switches off his phone,” she whispered fearfully.
Nobody responded.
Because everyone was thinking the same thing.
Something felt wrong tonight.
Very wrong.
Finally, Nila lit two candles and placed them carefully on the dining table.
Their soft trembling light made the house look unfamiliar.
Smaller somehow.
The shadows on the walls stretched strangely across old family photographs.
For the first time in years, the three of them sat together in complete silence.
Waiting.
Then suddenly—
The front gate slammed loudly outside.
Meera stood immediately.
“Arjun?”
No answer.
Only rain.
Raghavan walked toward the front door and opened it quickly.
Cold wind rushed inside carrying water droplets across the floor.
But no one stood outside.
Just darkness.
And heavy rain flooding the street.
Meera wrapped her arms around herself anxiously.
“Where is he?”
Raghavan stepped outside beneath the small porch roof and looked toward the road.
Then he froze.
A motorcycle lay fallen near the corner of the street.
Its headlight flickered weakly against the rain-soaked ground.
For one horrifying second—
Nobody breathed.
Meera’s candle slipped from her trembling hand and fell onto the floor.
“N-no…” she whispered.
Raghavan was already running into the rain.
Nila followed immediately.
Water soaked through their clothes within seconds as they rushed toward the fallen bike.
The closer they got—
The more terrified Meera became.
Because she recognized it.
Arjun’s motorcycle.
It lay tilted against the curb, scratched badly from one side.
But there was no sign of him.
Only his backpack lying nearby in the rain.
Nila picked it up with shaking hands.
“It’s his…”
Meera’s face had gone pale.
“Where is my son?”
No one answered.
Because fear had already begun saying things none of them were ready to hear.
Then suddenly—
A weak voice came from across the road.
“Amma…”
All three turned instantly.
Underneath the dim light of a closed pharmacy stood Arjun.
Drenched completely.
One hand pressed tightly against his side.
Blood mixed with rainwater across his sleeve.
Meera gasped sharply.
“Arjun!”
Before anyone could reach him—
His knees suddenly gave way.
And he collapsed onto the flooded street.