The Soul's Unfinished Story
Chapter 1 Awakening
An abyss. Endless. Suffocating.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Darkness. A suffocating void stretched endlessly, pressing against my consciousness like an ocean with no shore. There was no sense of time, no past, no future—only silence. A numb, weightless nothingness.
INARA (early 20s) bolts upright. A harsh INHALE sears her throat. Her body trembles, spasms with life.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Then, a gasp.
A sharp inhale burned my lungs as if they had forgotten how to breathe. My body convulsed with the sudden rush of air, my chest rising and falling in erratic shudders.
**LIGHT floods her eyes. Too much. Too fast.**
She SQUEEZES her eyes shut, face twisting in pain.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Light flooded my vision, stark and unforgiving. It stabbed into my skull like a blade, forcing my eyelids shut with a pained wince.
**SOUND: Steady BEEPING. Cold. Monotonous. A HEART MONITOR.**
The sterile scent of antiseptic clings to the air.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, cool and sterile. The steady beeping of a heart monitor echoed through the room, rhythmic, persistent, grounding me in a reality I didn’t recognize.
**INARA blinks open her eyes. She sees…**
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The walls, when I dared to open my eyes again, were a dull, lifeless gray. A cold, impersonal kind of gray—like the hollow space in my mind.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Tried to move, but my body resisted, sluggish and foreign. My fingers twitched against the stiff sheets beneath me. My limbs felt like lead.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Panic coiled in my chest, rising like a tide, threatening to swallow me whole.
INARA forces her lips to part. Her voice is barely audible.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
“Where…?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The word barely made it past my lips. A rasp, fragile and weak.
**SOUND: A chair SCRAPES loudly. FOOTSTEPS—urgent, approaching.**
？？？
A WOMAN (50s), sharp-bunned hair, weary eyes, leans into frame. Her voice trembles.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The name drifted through my mind, weightless. Familiar yet foreign. It should have meant something. It didn’t.
**BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.** Her pulse spikes on the monitor.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Swallows hard.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
“Who…?”
？？？
Face goes pale. A flash of something in her eyes—**fear? disbelief?**
？？？
“You don’t recognize me?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Her voice wavered, as if the words themselves were fragile things, threatening to break under the weight of the moment.
？？？
**A MAN steps forward.** Towering. Imposing. Tailored suit. Cold stare.
Mohan Shekhawat(FL father)
“I am your father, Mohan Shekhawat. This is your mother, Naintara.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Father. Mother. > The words should have brought comfort, should have tethered me to something real. But they felt distant. Like echoes of a life that wasn’t mine.
INARA’S head throbs.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Gasps again, shallow.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
“I don’t—” *(clutching at the sheets)* “I don’t remember.”
Naintara Shekhawat (FL Mother)
Gasps. Her hand clutches INARA’s, tight.
Naintara Shekhawat (FL Mother)
No… No, you must be confused, sweetheart. You know us. We’re your family.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Her voice was a plea, not reassurance.
The room pressed in around me, heavy with unspoken words.
Mohan Shekhawat(FL father)
Doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
My father remained silent, his face unreadable. But something dark flickered in his gaze. His jaw tightened, his shoulders rigid.
**SOUND: DOOR BURSTS OPEN.**
**Three men enter.** The **air shifts**—heavier now.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
**The eldest** is all edges. Sharp suit. Sharper gaze. Controlled.
Naintara Shekhawat (FL Mother)
“Akira… She doesn’t remember.”
Akira Shekhawat (FL 1 elder brother)
Steps closer, slow and cold. His gaze pierces.
Akira Shekhawat (FL 1 elder brother)
“You really don’t know who we are?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
(Flinches.) “No.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His face remained unreadable, but the flicker of something—disappointment? frustration?—passed through his gaze.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The second man,, approaches gently. A warmth in his eyes, though his smile falters.
Vardan Shekhawat (FL 2 Elder Brother)
“Inara… It’s me. Vardan. Your favorite brother.” *(he chuckles, voice trembling)* “You don’t remember me?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Stares at him—searching. Blank.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Searched his face, waiting for recognition to click into place. Nothing.
Vardan Shekhawat (FL 2 Elder Brother)
Smile fades. shoulders sag.
Vardan Shekhawat (FL 2 Elder Brother)
“Damn. This is real, isn’t it?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
His voice was softer now, tinged with something painful.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
At the door, the youngest. Still. Guarded.
Arsh Shekhawat(youngest brother)
(softly) “I’m Arsh. Your younger brother.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The words echoed in my mind, weightless yet crushing.
I had a family—a father, a mother, three brothers. A past. A life.
But I didn’t know any of them.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Hands GRIP the sheets.
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
“What happened to me?”
Vardan Shekhawat (FL 2 Elder Brother)
(gently) “You had an accident, Inara.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
“What kind of accident?”
Akira Shekhawat (FL 1 elder brother)
(cold, cutting) “The kind that should have killed you.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
A shiver ran down my spine.
**SOUND: DOOR OPENS AGAIN.**
Doctor
Enters. Calm. Middle-aged. His eyes hold practiced exhaustion.
Doctor
She’s awake.” *(checks monitor)* “Miss Shikhawat, how are you feeling?”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
(quietly) “I don’t remember anything.”
Doctor
(nodding slowly) “That’s normal after severe head trauma. You were in a coma for nearly two weeks. Your body is still recovering.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
Two weeks?
The weight of his words sank into me like stones in water.
My chest tightened.
Naintara Shekhawat (FL Mother)
(fragile)* “Will she get her memory back?”
Doctor
“It’s uncertain. Some patients regain fragments over time. Some… never do.”
Inara Shekhawat (FL)
The words left the room ice-cold.
I stared at the man in white, searching for a different answer, for hope.
But his face only practiced neutrality.
I wasn’t sure which was scarier—the fact that I had lost my past or the possibility that I might never get it back.
And an eerie sense that something was very, very wrong.
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