The air in Mathura felt unusually heavy that day.
The board exams had just ended, and the streets were buzzing with students planning vacations, parties, and dreams. But for Dev, it felt like the world had gone silent. Just days after submitting his last Class 12 paper, he received the news that shattered what was left of his fragile peace.
The accident report came quietly—no loud knock, no dramatic reveal. Just a call. A flat, emotionless voice on the other end.
"We're sorry to inform you... your family... your father, mother... all lost in a road accident near the Jaipur highway."
Dev didn't cry. He just hung up and locked himself in his grandfather's old study—a dark wooden room filled with dust, old books, and forgotten artifacts. He didn't eat for two days. The only thing he did was stare at the one photo on the shelf: his mother's gentle smile, his father's protective arm around him.
He remembered something his father used to say whenever he got too emotional:
> "If you stand still for too long, the pain will plant roots. You've got to keep moving, son."
On the fourth day, Dev opened the windows. Sunlight touched the floor like a silent blessing. He took a deep breath. Pain hadn't left, but now it had a direction.
He made a vow.
He would find out the truth behind the accident.
Why had the Raheja Group—one of India's most powerful families—suddenly shown interest in acquiring his father's small but unique AI company?
Why was there no media coverage of the crash?
And why did his father's old friend warn them months ago to stay away from corporate deals?
Dev knew he had nothing. No parents. No wealth. Not even a proper guardian. But he had fire in his heart.
---
The Job Hunt
The next week was brutal. Dev tried everything. He walked the lanes of Mathura looking for part-time work. Fast food chains turned him down. Bookstores told him he was too inexperienced. One store manager laughed and said:
> "We need boys who can smile and sell. Not ones who look like they just walked out of a funeral."
He returned to his small ancestral house every night, exhausted and empty-handed. The only company he had was an old diary—leather-bound, with strange symbols he couldn't understand. His great-grandfather's. And a small silver fox pendant he always wore around his neck without knowing why.
When hunger began to gnaw too hard, he picked up data-entry jobs online. They barely paid anything, but it was enough for some rice and dal.
He began journaling his days. In those pages, he poured out his anger, pain, frustration—and a strange hope he didn't know he still had.
Then, one night, he received a group message on his old school WhatsApp group:
"10th Grade Reunion! This Saturday! Mathura Central Station Lounge! Everyone's coming!"
For a moment, he didn't want to go.
But something told him he should. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was the desire to see people who once knew him before his world fell apart.
---
The Reunion
He arrived in a plain kurta-jeans combo. His clothes were clean, but not flashy. The others had changed—branded jackets, perfume in the air, phones worth months of Dev's pay.
That's when he saw her.
Anushka.
His old school crush. Hair still curled at the tips. Her smile could still pause time.
But she wasn't alone.
By her side was Prince Kumar—the son of a local business magnate. Tall, loud, expensive watch flashing like a disco ball.
Prince noticed Dev. Whispered something in Anushka's ear. She tried to hide her laugh.
"Look who showed up. Still wearing your dad's broken dreams?" Prince smirked.
Dev didn't respond. He simply smiled and walked to a corner.
That night, as the party died down and everyone prepared to leave, Dev sat at the station alone.
He didn't feel pain anymore. Just numbness.
He looked up at the dark ceiling of Mathura Central Station. The old structure still had rusting iron beams and dim yellow lights.
Something glinted near the far wall.
An old metallic panel, half-covered in grime, pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat.
Curious, he walked over. His pendant began to feel warm.
The panel beeped. A voice said:
> "Identified: Dev Verma. Access Granted."
Before he could react, the floor beneath him shifted.
A staircase spiraled downward, lit by blue lights.
Dev, heart pounding, stepped in.
---
At the base of the stairs stood a man—grey hair, military stance, sharp eyes.
He looked at Dev and said something that made time freeze.
> "So… you finally came. Your father would be proud."
To be continued...