Prologue

The world around Ayaan was a blur of white. The sterile scent of the hospital clung to the air, mingling with the dull ache radiating through his body. His face, burned and raw, pulsed with a searing pain that made each breath a struggle. Memories flickered in his mind like broken fragments, sharp and disjointed, refusing to form a clear picture.

One memory stood out—a dark, cavernous space, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air, and a field of bodies, lifeless and strewn across the ground. At the center of it all stood a man, his crimson-stained axe gleaming ominously, his presence radiating malice.

"I may have spared your life today, but rest assured, I will kill you one day," the man’s cold voice echoed relentlessly in Ayaan’s mind, chilling him to his core.

He could recall the terror and the overwhelming sense of loss, but the rest of that day was a haze. Why couldn’t he remember? What had led to that horrifying scene?

On the second day, Ayaan caught a glimpse of his mother, Tanvi, standing outside his hospital room. Their relationship had been strained for over a year, but now, seeing her worried face through the glass, stirred a mix of emotions within him. Alongside her were high-ranking officials, their hushed conversations hinting at the severity of the disaster he had survived.

By the third day, fragments of memory began to resurface. The cave. The scent of blood. The bodies. The man with the crimson axe. But as he tried to piece it all together, an invisible wall blocked his thoughts, leaving him with more questions than answers. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had forgotten the details of that catastrophic day—everything except the sheer horror of what had transpired.

On the fourth day, Ayaan's strength was returning, though his heart felt heavier than ever. It was then that he realized something devastating—Anaya was missing. She had been by his side, hadn’t she? He had felt her presence, even in his unconscious state. But now, there was no sign of her.

He asked his mother, desperate for answers, but her expression only deepened his despair. Tanvi, unaware that Ayaan had married a year ago, was visibly shaken by the revelation. His attempts to explain were met with confusion, and the weight of her disbelief only made his grief sharper. The emptiness in the room mirrored the void in his heart.

And yet, amidst the agony, a single bitter thought plagued his mind. If everything had gone as planned—if there had been no disaster, no bloodshed, no tragedy—today would have been a day of joy.

This should have been his first wedding anniversary.

Instead, here he was, broken and alone, with no idea where his wife was or how to find her.

By the fifth day, Ayaan could finally stand and take a few steps. Though his body was still weak, his mind was slowly sharpening. As he took his first shaky steps down the sterile hospital corridor, his thoughts drifted back to the beginning.

Two years ago, on that day, it all started.

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