Ruined Hearts

Prologue

The night looked bruised, as if the sky itself had taken a beating. Thunder rolled overhead, and the rain came down so hard it stung Sia's skin like needles. But she did not stop. She couldn't. Every breath she dragged in felt like fire. Her legs were shaking from exhaustion, but fear pushed her forward with a strength she didn't know she possessed.

Behind her, the world was chaos—shouts, whistles, and heavy footfalls splashing through puddles. Someone yelled her name. Someone else cursed her existence. They wanted her dead or alive. But she wasn't ready to be either.

Water filled her shoes. Her hair stuck to her face, mingling with sweat and tears. The streets of Delhi blurred behind her as she sprinted through back alleys, ducking under half-shuttered shops, slipping past stray dogs that barked in alarm. She had boarded the bus out of the city of Kanpur with seconds to spare, hidden in the shadows of passengers who paid her no attention.

Her heart had not stopped racing since. By the time she climbed down in an unfamiliar town, dawn was still a distant promise. The rain had only grown harsher, soaking her clothes until they felt like anchors dragging her down. But Sia kept moving, clutching the strap of her duffel bag so tight her knuckles throbbed.

She found refuge in a half-constructed building—bare pillars, scattered tools, and cement bags stacked like towers. She slipped behind one of them and crouched down, her chest heaving. She clamped a trembling hand over her mouth to quiet the sound of her own breath.

She couldn't risk making even a whisper. Because the men were back. Their voices carried through the hollow space, distorted by the rain but unmistakably close.

"Where the hell is she?"

"She can't run this fast—she's bleeding; I saw the trail."

"Boss will rip us apart if we lose her."

Their footsteps sloshed around, slow, searching, patient—the kind of patience that only came from cruelty. Sia pressed her back against the cold concrete and squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers dug into her own skin to stop herself from sobbing.

Minutes stretched like hours. Then the storm swallowed their voices. Footsteps faded. Only the roar of rain remained. She didn't move. Not until her legs cramped. Not until her teeth began to chatter. Not until the silence felt real.

Finally, she forced her frozen limbs into motion. Her duffel bag clinked softly as she opened it. Her fingers brushed over the items she had grabbed in her last frantic moments of escape. At the bottom, wrapped in a handkerchief, was the small kitchen knife she had taken from the counter.

Her hand trembled as she lifted it. One deep breath. One hard decision. She gathered her long hair in one fist and brought the blade to it. The knife wasn't sharp enough, so it took brutal, repetitive sawing—each pull of the blade taking a piece of her old life with it. Finally, the heavy mass of hair fell around her knees.

She felt light...strange...raw.

At a nearby house, clothes were hanging under the shade of a tin roof to escape the rain. Men's shirts and trousers—simple, worn, and oversized. Perfect. Sia pressed herself against the wall as she moved, scanning every corner, every shadow. When she was sure no one was watching, she grabbed a loose shirt and pants, heart pounding with guilt and necessity.

She stripped out of her soaked sari, wrung it out, stuffed it deep into her bag, and changed into the unfamiliar clothes. The shirt hung baggy on her frame, the trousers had to be folded twice, and the cap she found on a hook hid the uneven mess of her chopped hair.

She looked like a street boy now. No trace of the woman they hunted.

Keeping her head down, she walked towards the busier part of town. The street was waking up—despite the storm, tea stalls simmered, and a few early risers hurried under umbrellas. Then her heart lodged in her throat.

From far away, she spotted the men... Three of them... Walking straight toward her. She didn't speed up. Didn't freeze. She forced her body into the rhythm of a bored pedestrian, not a hunted animal. They passed her. One of them brushed her shoulder lightly. None of them looked twice.

Only when she had turned into another lane did she allow a shaky breath to escape her. She was safe—for now.

A flickering advertisement caught her eye, plastered to a leaning streetlight...Women's Shelter – Hiring Assistant for Accounting Work. Immediate Requirement.

Accounting had always been her one talent, the one place she felt in control; numbers never lied. Numbers never hurt. This could be a start. A hiding place. A fresh breath of survival. She memorized the address, tucked her cap lower, and moved toward the faint glow of the marketplace.

The storm hadn't eased, but Sia needed to make one call—one call that could break her or save her. She found a dimly lit public phone booth wedged between a closed pharmacy and a shuttered tea stall. The yellow bulb inside flickered weakly, casting trembling shadows over her face. Her hands were numb with cold, but she fed the coins into the slot with trembling fingers.

Her heart hammered. What if they had reached home? What if her father... what if—

She dialed the number she had memorized since childhood... Once...Twice...The line rang.

Then—a click. A familiar breath. A silence thick with fear and longing.

"Baba..." her voice cracked, barely a whisper. "I'm alive."

For a moment, there was no sound. Just rain beating against the metal roof and her own heart pounding like a drum inside her chest. Then she heard it—a shaky inhale, the way he always did when trying not to cry.

"Sia..." he whispered, voice breaking. "Beta... my child..."

Tears rushed to her eyes, hot and unstoppable. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass of the booth.

"I can't talk," she choked. "Don't call this number again. Don't try to find me. I will contact you when I can."

There was a long pause. A painful one. She swallowed the ache in her throat.

"Are you hurt?" he managed, voice trembling. "Are you safe?"

"I'm... trying," she whispered. "I'm trying to stay alive."

And then his voice—soft, desperate, filled with a fear only a father felt.

"Just keep yourself alive, beta." A sharp inhale. "Jab tak saans hai... keep living. Don't let them catch you. Don't let them win."

Sia bit her lip hard, tasting blood, holding back a sob.

"I promise," she said.

Another silence. One that felt like a thousand unsaid words.

"I have to go," she whispered. "Please don't worry, Baba. I... I will survive."

"Come back to me," he said quietly. "Bas... wapas aa jaa, Sia."

Her breath broke.... Her vision blurred.

"I will," she said, though she didn't know if it was true.

Then—she hung up before he could hear her cry. The phone clicked. The bulb flickered again. And Sia stepped out into the rain, her heart bruised but beating, her resolve turning to steel.

She had to live. For him...For herself. For the promise she could not afford to break.

Tomorrow, she would go for the interview. Tomorrow, she would try to rebuild herself. Tonight... she just had to stay alive.

Hey girls!

Finally—finally—I'm writing a story for Adhiraj!

I know, I know... You all need to let me breathe a little, but my inbox has been flooded with messages demanding his story. So here it is—the prologue you've all been waiting for.

And yes... His girl is Sia Mathur.

If you enjoyed the prologue, don't forget to vote and drop your comments! Only if I get enough love from you all will I continue posting the chapters.

I've already outlined the entire story, and trust me—it's going to blow your mind.