NOVEL WEB Chapter 5: Stabbed !!
The garden had quieted. Only the sound of tea being poured broke the silence between Aagartha and Atharva. The one cherry blossom petal that had fallen now lay gently by her elbow on the weathered wooden bench.
Aagartha stirred the tea slowly, but her mind was somewhere else—caught in a loop of half-felt memories and aching echoes. She didn't know this place… yet it remembered her.
The rain had long stopped, but the streets still glistened under the gentle glow of streetlamps. A faint scent of wet earth clung to the breeze, weaving around the quiet alley that ran beside the iconic café — Coffee & Cocaine.
The clock on the street struck 7 PM, and the moon rose higher, bathing the world in a silver hue that softened the chaos of city life.
Just as Aagartha was about to ask Atharva more about Subhangi Mudgalkar, a sudden sharp cry pierced the air.
"HELP! Someone's been stabbed!"
The garden fell into stillness for half a second before chaos erupted.
Baristas dropped trays. Customers stood abruptly, confused. Atharva froze. But Aagartha? She was already on her feet, rushing toward the front of the café, guided by instinct and urgency. Her sandals splashed through puddles, her kurti fluttered like a white flag through the misted alley.
She reached the front steps in seconds.
A young man, maybe twenty-five at most, was lying on the stone pavement just outside the gate. Blood pooled beneath him. His shirt was soaked red. His breaths were shallow, uneven, and fast.
A crowd had formed, but no one dared to touch him.
Aagartha didn't hesitate.
"MOVE! Give me space! I'm a doctor!"
The tone of command in her voice parted the crowd like a blade. The bystanders stepped back as she dropped to her knees beside him.
She touched his wrist. Weak pulse. Rapid.
"He's going into shock," she muttered.
Atharva appeared beside her, holding a bundled cloth from inside.
"We need the emergency kit," Aagartha said.
One of the baristas ran inside, reappearing moments later with the café's first-aid box.
Aagartha tore fabric from the young man's shirt, pressing tightly against the wound. She cleaned, gauzed, and wrapped. Every movement was fast, efficient. The smell of blood was sharp. The noise of murmuring people faded behind her.
"Stay with me," she whispered to the boy.
His eyelids fluttered.
She felt her heartbeat syncing with his, willing him to stay alive.
Then— a different sound.
A car.
Not just any car.
The unmistakable hum of a luxury engine—low, confident.
A jet-black Mercedes Maybach pulled up silently before the café gate.
It didn't screech. It glided. Like a shadow with wheels.
Two men stepped out. Both in suits. One wore an earpiece. The other had the kind of face that looked like it had never smiled. Both walked toward her with the stillness of well-trained men.
Aagartha rose protectively.
"Step back," said one of them. "We'll take him now."
She narrowed her eyes. "He's not stable. You move him now, he bleeds out."
The bodyguard paused, exchanged glances with the other, and pulled out a phone. After a brief murmur in another language, he turned it toward her.
"The boss would like a word."
Aagartha took it, cautious.
"Hello? This is Dr. Aagartha Kashyap. Am I audible?"
There was silence.
Not static.
Breathing.
Controlled. Steady. A presence that listened. Observed.
The silence stretched.
Aagartha felt an odd tension tighten around her spine.
Then a different voice came.
"Dr. Aagartha, this is the assistant. I've been instructed to speak in place of the principal."
She didn't bother hiding her suspicion. "What is going on? Who is this young man? Why are there bodyguards and a Maybach involved?"
"We cannot disclose details, but we've been told to comply with you. The young man must live. We trust you will make that happen."
She looked at the bloodied boy, his breathing still erratic.
"He needs hospital attention. Immediately. I'm taking him to SSD Hospital. That is final."
A pause. Then:
"Understood. Our escort will follow."
She ended the call, returning the phone.
The men nodded. One gently lifted the wounded man. Surprisingly careful. They placed him in the backseat of Aagartha's car. She climbed in beside him, cradling his head with practiced hands.
The Mercedes trailed behind as they sped through the mist-washed roads.
In the backseat, Aagartha worked to keep the boy stable. She spoke softly, pressing towels to the wound. Her mind raced.
Who was he? Why did those men treat him like royalty? And why had the man on the phone refused to speak?
The mystery clung to her like the night air.
Behind them, through the tinted windows of the Mercedes, a man sat silently. His face was unreadable. His fingers drummed against the leather seat just once.
Outside, the world passed in streaks of silver.
Inside, a pulse flickered against death.
---
At SSD Hospital, the emergency team rushed in as soon as Aagartha called ahead. The boy was transferred onto a stretcher. Nurses gasped when they saw the depth of the wound. But with Aagartha leading, no one panicked.
She walked alongside the stretcher, shouting vitals, instructing medication, assigning roles. Her hands never stopped moving.
He was taken in for surgery. As she scrubbed her arms in the prep room, she glanced outside.
The Mercedes was gone.
But someone watched. She felt it.
Back at the café, Atharva stared at the blood still on the pavement. He bent down, touched the dried red trail, and whispered,
"This night changed something. I don't know what... but it has begun."
And somewhere, beyond alleyways and moonlight, a man exhaled into the shadows. His assistant asked,
"Sir, should I get her a message?"
The man shook his head.
Still watching.
Still waiting.