The door creaked.

Noor’s body jerked violently at the sound. Her knees pressed harder into the polished floor, her shawl clutched tightly against her face. Her wide eyes darted toward the entrance.

A woman stepped in.

Middle-aged, her frame sturdy but softened by kindness that lived in her features.

She carried folded clothes in her hands, neatly stacked. Her saree was simple, her hair tied in a loose bun, wisps escaping to frame her face.

But her presence was.....powerful, like the one, who's impossible to ignore.

But Noor’s heart raced as though a monster had entered.

The woman stopped at the sight before her. The spotless bed. The young girl crouched low, forehead nearly touching the floor, trembling, muffled gasps escaping her lips as if apologizing to wood and fabric.

The woman’s brows drew together in shock.

“He bhagwan…” she murmured under her breath.

(Oh lord...)

Noor flinched. The words felt sharp in her ears, as if they were the prelude to anger. Her body shrank further, her forehead pressing harder into the floor.

'maf kardo. Please hame saza mat dena. Hamne ise thik kardia hai. Hamara ispar sone ka koi irada nahi tha. Hame marna mat. Hame nahi pata hum ispar kaese aye'

(Sorry. Please don’t punish me. I fixed it. I didn’t mean to sleep on it. Don’t beat me. I don't know how i got there)

Her thoughts tumbled chaotically, desperation flooding her veins. She pressed her forehead harder to the ground, her hands trembling so much her knuckles went white.

The woman’s brows knitted, heart squeezing at the sight. She set the clothes down hurriedly on the bed and rushed forward.

“Arre, arre… kya kar rahi ho, beti?”

(Hey, hey… what are you doing, child?)

Her voice was soft, hurried, almost breaking. She knelt down on the polished floor beside Noor and tried to lift her up gently by the shoulders.

Her voice was gentle, but Noor’s panic spiked. Tears streamed down her pale face as she began to bow again to the woman. Her lips moved soundlessly, shaping apologies she couldn’t say.

“Bas, bas, ruk jao…” she said softly, kneeling down. “Koi galti nahi ki hai aapne. Sun rahi ho? Aapne kuch galat nahi kiya to mafia kyu maang rahi ho.”

(Stop, stop, it’s alright… You haven’t made any mistake. Do you hear me? You’ve done nothing wrong so why are you apologizing.)

Her hands reached out again carefully, but Noor recoiled instantly, her whole frame shaking. Fear carved itself into her body, every movement screaming:

'abh hame saza milegi, hame galti ki hai. Ab hame maar padegi'

(Now i will be punished, i have made a mistake. Now i will be beaten)

Noor flinched as though burned. Her entire body recoiled, jerking violently. Her breath stuttered, eyes wide with terror. Her mind screamed punishment. She braced for a slap, a belt, a kick.

But none came.

Instead, the woman did the opposite. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around the trembling girl. Her eyes moist, filled with tears.

Noor froze.

Her body went stiff as wood, her breath caught in her chest. She had braced herself for the pain, the blow that always followed closeness.

But… nothing came.

Only warmth.

Just like Maira's

For a brief moment, Noor felt like it was Maira who was hugging her.

Her eyes filled with tears against her will. She fought to push them back in but they only poured out more.

But tears rolled silently down her cheeks, soaking the woman’s shoulder.

For a moment she forgot all her fear, all the tention and pressure that she's been feeling since she ran away.

She felt relieved.

Alive.

As if Maira was still here.....with her.

But she knew that it wasn't the truth.

Reality was cruel, as it came crushing her hopes with the realisation and truth that she wasn't here....with her anymore. Those bad men must have already....

And when that thought came, her last thread of control, of resistance, broke apart completely.

Her heart got so heavy, that now she couldn't control her tears, as she bursted out crying in that unknown womean's embrace that made feel like Maira.

Her kindness.

Her warmth.

And it only made the weight of truth even heavier that Maira.... wasn't here.

Now she didn't controlled her tears, she let them fall.

She kept crying and crying, her heart heavy with grief....

Greif of losing someone precious.

Of losing Maira.

Because she wasn't just any girl, she was first person that made her believe in kindness, that the world wasn't all cruel, that the fate didn't complete abandoned her.

But now, even that person was gone.

The woman’s voice broke softly into her ear.

“Bas… bas, ro mat. Koi kuch nahi kahega. Hum hain na.”

(Enough… enough, don’t cry. No one will say anything. I’m here.)

As she her arms got more tight around her tiny, shaking form. As tears spilled from her own eyes

And just like that Noor's dam of sadness and all the tears that she had held back for years, came out.

She cried, cried and cried.

Until she couldn't

God knows how long she's been crying but that woman....that woman didn't let go of her for even a single second the whole time.

Noor's eyes were swollen and dry tears streaked her cheeks from all the crying but her heart felt lighter now, like all the fear, the pressure, has been washed away.

For the first time, she lifted her head slowly, hesitantly and looked at the woman's face.

Dry tears clung to that woman's face, her face looked tired.

She looked at Noor with kindness, and smiled softly, as if nothing had happened which surprised Noor a bit.

She had so many questions in her heart that she wanted to ask but no voice came out of her throat.

Only one question came to her mind.

'ye achi aunty kon hain?'

(Who's this kind aunty?)

And then she spoke.

"Kya abh behetar lag raha hai aapko?"

(Are you feeling better now?)

Noor nodded her head slightly in embarrassment as she lowered her head.

She didn't knew what to say now, she felt weird but also relieved, for some unknown reasons.

The woman pulled back just enough to look into her face, brushing back a strand of messy hair. Her tone was low, patient, as though speaking to a frightened child.

“Chalo, abhi naha lete hain. Aapko saaf karna hai, beti. Aapko nahaana zaroori hai. Dekho aapki haalat… kitni gandi aur kamzor lag rahi ho.”

(Come, let’s bathe now. We need to clean you, child. You need a bath. Just look at you… so frail, so unclean.)

Bath?

Noor blinked, confusion clouding her fear. The word was faintly familiar but meaningless in her world.

Her shawl slipped from her grip as she clutched it tighter, shaking her head violently.

The woman smiled gently, trying to soothe her.

“Darne ki baat nahi hai. Bas paani se aapko saaf karna hai.”

(There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just cleaning you with water.)

The woman rose, keeping a gentle hand on Noor’s arm, coaxing her to stand. Noor stumbled, hesitant, trembling violently, her gaze darting to the floor, the walls, anywhere but the woman’s eyes.

Her head felt light from all the crying but that woman, gently supported her.

She guided Noor slowly toward another door — the bathroom.

The bathroom door opened.

And Noor’s breath caught.

Tiles gleamed under her feet. The sink glimmered. The air smelled faintly of soap.

And then… the water.

A tap turned, and clear streams gushed out into the huge marble tub, sparkling, splashing.

Her eyes widened.

Noor stumbled back instantly, terror flashing in her eyes. Her chest heaved as though that sound itself was a threat.

She stared as though seeing magic.

'kya ye hil raha hai? Ye diwaar se kya aa raha hai? Nahi....ye zinda hai? Ye...'

(It moves? What is this coming from the wall? No… it’s alive? It’s…)

The woman glanced at her in surprise.

“Arre…aapko paani se dar lagta hai? Kyun, bacchi?”

(Oh… are you scared of water? Why, child?)

'p-paani? Ye paani hai?'

(W-water? This is water?)

Noor’s lips parted slightly. She had drunk water before, stolen from dirty buckets, tasted rust and filth. But this… this was clear. Flowing. Pure.

Her eyes glistened.

Noor shook her head desperately, her hands clutching at her shawl as though it could shield her. Her body curled, trembling, her wide eyes locked on the falling water as if it might devour her.

The woman’s heart broke a little more. She softened her tone even further.

“Arre, paani se mat daro. Dekho…”

(Oh, don't be scared of water. Look...)

she dipped her hand into the stream of water, lifted it, and let it fall back with a playful splash.

"Dekha, ye kuch nai karta"

(See, it does nothing)

Noor’s eyes followed, frightened yet curious. The droplets sparkled as they fell, catching the light. Her lips parted slightly in silent wonder.

“Chalo, try karte hain”

(Come on, let's try it)

the woman said gently. She reached forward, slowly, giving Noor every chance to recoil. She dipped Noor’s thin hand under the water.

Noor gasped softly.

Her whole body jolted, expecting pain. But instead — coolness spread across her skin. Strange, alien, yet not cruel. Her fingers twitched as droplets ran down her hand.

Her heart fluttered, torn between fear and an odd… fascination.

The woman smiled at her reaction.

“Hai na accha? Thoda thanda lag raha hoga, par darne ki koi baat nahi hai.”

(Feels nice, doesn’t it? A little cold, but there's nothing to fear.)

Noor blinked rapidly, confusion swimming in her eyes. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to respond, but no sound came. She only looked down at her wet hand, then back up, like a lost child discovering the world.

"Chalo ab kapde utaro. Kya hum madad kare?"

(Now take off your clothes. Shall I help?)

Noor froze again. Her face flushed with shame, her hands clutching desperately at her worn kurta.

The woman moved gently, reaching for her shawl. Noor immediately stiffened, clutching it tight around herself, panic flashing in her eyes. Her breath came sharp and fast.

The woman hushed her softly, touching her hand lightly.

"Daro mat, beti. Aapko nahana hai na? Saaf hona hai? To kapde to utaarne hi honge"

(Don't be afraid, child. You have to take a bath, right? You have to get clean? Then you will have to take off your clothes.)

Step by step, she helped Noor out of her ragged clothes, her movements careful, respectful. Noor’s thin frame, covered in bruises old and new, came into view.

The woman swallowed hard, pain flashing across her eyes, but she kept her voice steady.

“Bas thoda aur… ab aapko paani se saaf karte hain.”

(Just a little more… now let’s clean you with water.)

She guided her closer to the stream, filling the huge marble tub.

Then came the touch of water.

The woman cupped her hands, pouring it gently over Noor’s arm.

Noor flinched hard, gasping soundlessly. Her eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. The sensation — cool, soothing, alive — spread across her skin. She looked at her wet arm in disbelief, then back at the woman.

Her heart pounded.

The woman poured more, letting it trail down her back, her shoulders. Noor’s breath quickened — not in fear alone, but in wonder.

Her trembling hands reached hesitantly forward. She copied the woman, cupping water in her palms, staring at it as it spilled through her fingers.

Her eyes glistened.

For a moment, a faint ghost of a smile trembled at her lips — fragile, unsure, quickly swallowed by fear again.

But her curiosity lingered.

The woman, patient and careful, began washing her.

Soap foamed, soft against Noor’s skin. She recoiled at first, confusion and fear overwhelming her.

She hissed as soap touched her wounds, that she got when she fell off the cliff.

This was a different kind of pain, a pain she had never felt.

But the woman’s gentle tone soothed her each time.

“Yeh sirf aapko saaf karne ke liye hai, beti. Accha lagega, dekhna.”

(It’s just to clean you, child. You’ll feel better, you’ll see.)

Noor’s innocence shone through. She tilted her head curiously, watching the lather.

She sniffed it faintly, surprised at the strange scent. Her brows furrowed, then smoothed again.

Her fingers touched the bubbles, wide-eyed at their softness.

She behaved like a child discovering the world anew.

Her body remained tense, fear never leaving completely, but beneath it, curiosity flickered like a fragile flame.

For the first time in her nineteen years, Noor felt the gentleness of water against her skin. The careful touch of hands, not meant to hurt, but to care.

Her heart didn’t know whether to break or to hope.

The woman chuckled softly at her expression.

“Aap pehli baar naha rahi hain, hai na?” she said gently.

(This must be your first time, right?)

Noor blinked, her cheeks warming, and lowered her gaze shyly.

The woman's heart ached, shook her head, whispering under her breath,

"Akhir kaisi zindagi je hai aapne"

(After all what kind of life have you lived)

The woman poured the a last jug of water over Noor’s thin frame, letting it cascade down her back in soft rivulets. The grime of years loosened and slid away, pooling and disappearing down into the tub water.

When the final traces of soap rinsed off, the woman set the bucket aside and exhaled softly, her gaze resting on the girl before her.

Noor stood stiff, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her shoulders hunched as though she still expected punishment. Her shawl, discarded at the side, lay damp and forgotten.

The woman reached out slowly.

“Bas ho gaya… aap saaf ho gayi ho, beti.”

(It’s done now… you’re clean, child.)

She brushed a curtain of wet hair away from Noor’s face. The strands clung stubbornly to her cheeks. Noor flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull back.

And then—

The woman froze.

Beneath the dirt and shadows that had hidden her features, Noor’s face had emerged… pale, fragile, luminous. Her cheekbones delicate, her lips soft and pink, her lashes damp but long. But it was the eyes — wide, uncertain, impossibly innocent — that made her heart jolt.

Her throat tightened. Words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

“Samaira…?”

The name slipped out in a whisper, half breath, half disbelief, surprising herself.

Why this name?

Why this out of everything?

Noor blinked, startled. She tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering in her eyes. She didn’t understand the sound, but the way the woman’s voice trembled made her heart flutter uneasily.

The woman stared, her hands frozen midair.

“Nahi… aia kaise ho sakta hai… ye....nahi... ye to... iski umar to 15-16 saal lagti hai to... to ye kaise... ye...” 

(No… how can it be… this....no...this....she looks like 15-16 years old so...so how is this...this...)

she muttered under her breath.

This girl looked so much like someone she knew — very closely. But younger. Fragile. Like a version from years ago. Impossible, her mind told her. Yet her heart whispered otherwise.

She quickly shook her head, gathering herself.

“nahi… bas hame laga ki…”

(Nothing… I just thought that…)

she whispered, her voice breaking. Then she sighed and gently took a towel and began drying Noor’s hair.

Noor’s body stiffened as the soft cloth rubbed against her scalp. Her fingers fidgeted anxiously. She lowered her gaze, clutching her arms tight, afraid that even this towel might be ruined by her touch.

The woman noticed her trembling.

“Arre, daro mat. Ye bas aapko saaf karne ke liye hai. Aapko koi nuksaan thodi hoga.”

(Hey, don't be afraid. This is just to make you dry. You will not suffer any harm.)

Noor’s lips parted faintly, her breath shaky. She wanted to believe, but fear sat heavy in her chest.

When the towel had soaked up most of the water, she wrapped Noor in a bathing robe, then the woman reached for the dryer. She plugged it in, and with a click, a rush of warm air filled the bathroom.

Noor jumped violently, her eyes wide in terror. She stumbled back, hands clamped over her ears, her chest rising and falling rapidly. What is that sound?! Her heart pounded — it was like a machine growling, ready to devour her.

The woman hurriedly switched it off.

“Daro mat, betu. Ye dryer hai. Dekho…”

(Don't be afraid, child. It's a dryer. See...)

She turned it back on briefly, holding it away from Noor, letting the warm air blow against her own hand.

“Ye kapde aur baal sukhane ke liye hai.”

(This is for drying clothes and hair.)

Noor blinked, trembling. Curiosity warred with fear in her wide eyes. Slowly, the woman guided her closer, letting the warm air brush against Noor’s hand.

Noor gasped softly. Her fingers twitched as the warmth tickled her skin. Not fire. Not pain. Something… soothing.

Her eyes softened, wonder shining faintly through the fear.

The woman smiled gently, relief washing through her.

“Accha hai na?”

(Nice, isn’t it?)

Noor lowered her gaze, a faint, hesitant nod shaking her damp strands.

Minutes later, her hair dried into soft waves that framed her delicate face, cascading down her back. The woman couldn’t help staring. Under the light, the girl looked almost ethereal.

"Dekha, aapke baal ik dam sukh gaye"

(Look, your hair has dried up completely)

Noor touched her hairs, who felt unbelievably soft after years of dirt was washed off for the first time.

Noor was amazed that something like this was even possible.

That lady set the dryer aside, then went to fetch the medical kit. She returned, kneeling beside Noor.

“Ab thoda dard hoga, betu”

(This will hurt a little, child.)

she said gently, showing her the cotton and antiseptic.

“Par zaroori hai. In zakmon ko saaf karna hoga.”

(But it’s necessary. We need to clean these wounds.)

Noor’s eyes widened instantly, panic surging back. She shuffled back, clutching the towel tighter, shaking her head violently. Her breaths came fast and shallow.

“Arre… daro mat,”

(Don’t be afraid.)

Karuna soothed, her voice low, coaxing.

“Ye dawa hai. Dawa se dard kam hota hai.”

(This is medicine. It makes the pain less.)

She dipped the cotton in antiseptic and reached for the cut on Noor’s knee. Noor’s whole body stiffened, her leg jerking away instinctively.

That lady caught her gaze, steady and calm.

"Thik hai, thik hai"

(It's ok, it's ok)

That lady said in a calm, assuring tone. That's when she realised something.

"Oh, Maine toh khudko introduce bhi nahi kiya, maaf karna, betu"

(Oh, I didn't even introduce myself, forgive me, child)

That lady apologised, feeling embarrassed.

"Hamara naam Karuna hai, Karuna Thakurain, aur hum ek doctor hain. Aapko naam kya hai betu?"

(My name is Karuna, Karuna Thakurain, and I'm a doctor. What's your name child?)

Noor froze. Her lips parted. Her eyes darted left and right, trembling.

'h-hamara...naam?'

(M-my...name?)

Noor panicked for a bit, because this was something new for her, because nobody asked for her name before except Maira.

And she was also the one who gave her something as precious as a name.

Noor.

'par hum ye in achi aunty ko kase bataye?'

(But how do I tell this to this nice aunty?)

Noor looked here and there in search for an answer.

How?

How does she tell this kind aunty her name?

When for a long time she couldn't think of an answer, slowly, miserably, she shook her head.

Karuna’s chest tightened. She brushed a strand of Noor’s hair back gently.

“Aap... bol nahi sakti…?”

(You... can’t speak…?)

Noor’s lashes lowered, tears glistening at the corners. She lowered her head in silent shame.

Karuna exhaled softly, a mixture of sorrow and tenderness.

“Theek hai. Aap naam na batao. Hum phir bhi aapko apne bacche ki tarah hi manugi.”

(That’s alright. Even if you don’t tell me your name, I’ll still treat you as my own child.)

Karuna smiled.

Noor felt puzzled, confused, lost.

'kyu? Ye achi aunty aisa kyu kar rahi hai? Hamne inhe javaab nai diya to kya ye gussa nahi karengi? Hame marengi nai jaise vo bure uncle's karte the?'

(why? Why is this good aunty behaving like this? I don't answered her, won't she get angry? Won't she hit me like like those bad uncles used to do?)

This feeling was a strange for Noor because no one have ever been this kind to her except Maira.

"To agar aapko hum Samaira bulae toh... aapko koi etraaz to nai?"

(So if I call you Samaira... will you have any objection?)

'pta nahi kyu, is bachi ko dekh kar yehi naam baar baar hamare zahan me aa raha hai. Kya aisa ho sakta hai ki Samaira...'

(I don't know why, after seeing this girl this name is coming to my mind again and again. Could it be that Samaira...)

But Karuna shook her head and stopped her train of thoughts.