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❛ she walks on the path, that the letters had carved.❜
Have you ever heard of a Literature student dealing with guns and criminals? Probably only in Shakespearean art, but now we are in...
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First of all, who said that anything is happening to Garima? I don't remember saying anything about her. 😂😂 Almost every alternate messages were about saving Garima?
QUESTION:
Who's your least favourite character in the book?
Confession: This is probably the most clichè, and most melodramatic chapter I have written in this book. I realised it before I started typing it, but I had built up to this storyline so I couldn't change it. Please bear with this chapter. I didn't change the plot- cause I couldn't. Now, it's a part of the story. As I said, bear with me and the chapter.
*NOT PROOFREAD*
━━━━♛━━━━ Third Person ━━━━♛━━━━
Inaayat rushes towards the hostel gate, her heart palpating and thrashing and pummelling. The beads of perspiration adorning her creased forehead.
Ishaan follows behind, numerous thoughts and ideas were striking their mind. Inaayat hadn't spoken even a word during their way back to the hostel. Inaayat is gripped in her share of worries and stress. Her feet were shaking and her hands shivering. Her face had heated up, thinking about the news she was delivered.
Inaayat spots Nikhil standing outside the girl's hostel. He is seen walking from one corner to the other, probably waiting for Inaayat and Ishaan. Nikhil had asked Inaayat to pick even Shaan on her way. He needed support himself.
Inaayat dashes towards him, "Where's Garima?" She questions him about her, first. Nikhil's face morphs into a look of anger before it dulls out and settles. He tells her that Sameer had just taken her to the hospital. Inaayat nods at him, but before Nikhil can describe his share of opinions and questions, Inaayat swiftly turns towards Ishaan.
"Go to the hospital. Sameer won't be able to handle it alone. Please." Inaayat requests. Ishaan nods and leaves soon, not questioning her decision. He knows she is right, Sameer can be stupid sometimes and handling a delicate matter like that, means asking a lot out of him.
"Aayat, I don't know. I can't even describe the look on her face. She looked so broken, so hurt." Nikhil searches for words. His sentence breaking and pausing and halting midway. His face is so distressed and soft in worry and angst. Inaayat looks at him, trying to steady herself.
