Rudra stood at the gates of the estate, watching the sunrise. The soft orange hues painted the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sprawling grounds. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed yet commanding, the air around him heavy with his unspoken thoughts.
Last night with Ananya had left an indelible mark on his mind. Her voice, her laughter, and the flicker of recognition in her eyes—it all felt like a page torn from a forgotten chapter of his life. Destiny, as much as he tried to deny it, was at work. The strings of the past were slowly pulling together, and Rudra knew better than to fight it.
Back inside the estate, the chaos had already begun. Morning tea was accompanied by heated debates, playful arguments, and the occasional clatter of dishes. Rudra stepped into the dining hall, his presence silencing the room for a brief moment before the family resumed their usual antics.
"Ah, here he is! The man of mystery!" Ishani's voice rang out, her smirk as sharp as ever.
"What now?" Rudra asked, his tone cold but not unkind.
"Oh, nothing," she said, sipping her tea dramatically. "Just wondering how the art exhibition went. You know, since you were so eager to attend."
"You're pushing your luck," he muttered, taking his seat at the head of the table.
Ishani grinned. "You make it too easy, Rudra. Seriously though, what's the plan now? You've found one girl. Are you going to sit back and wait for the others to fall into your lap?"
"Ishani, enough," Avni interjected, ever the voice of reason. "Rudra has his way of handling things. Let him take his time."
Rudra remained silent, his mind already spinning with possibilities. Finding Ananya had been a stroke of luck—or fate. The others, however, would require effort. He couldn't afford to wait for destiny to deliver them to his doorstep. He had to act.
---
The day passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls, Rudra's focus split between his business empire and the puzzle of his past. By evening, he found himself in his study once more, the photograph of the nine girls resting on his desk. Their faces were a haunting reminder of what he had lost, but they also fueled his determination.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Avni, her expression unusually serious. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
"I found something," she said, placing a file on his desk.
Rudra opened it, his sharp eyes scanning the contents. It was a report—detailed and precise—about a woman named Meera.
"She runs a small café on the outskirts of the city," Avni explained. "From what I could gather, she's been living there for a few years. Alone. No family, no connections."
Rudra's gaze lingered on the photograph clipped to the file. Meera. Her face was older but unmistakably familiar. One of the nine.
"When do we leave?" he asked, already standing.
---
The café was quaint and unassuming, its warm lights spilling onto the cobblestone street. Rudra stepped inside, his imposing presence drawing a few curious glances from the patrons. Meera stood behind the counter, her hands deftly working the coffee machine.
She didn't notice him at first, too engrossed in her task. But when she finally looked up, her eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to pause.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite but guarded.
Rudra stepped closer, his expression softening. "Meera."
Her hands faltered, the cup she was holding slipping from her grasp and shattering on the floor. The sound jolted her back to reality, and she quickly bent down to pick up the pieces.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her movements hurried. "I don't know—do I know you?"
"You do," Rudra said, his voice steady. "Or at least, you used to."
She straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Rudra reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph, placing it on the counter. Her eyes widened as she stared at it, her hands trembling.
"That's… me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And you. And… the others."
"You remember," Rudra said, more a statement than a question.
"Not clearly," she admitted, her eyes still fixed on the photograph. "It's like a dream I can't fully recall. But seeing this… it feels real."
"It is real," Rudra said. "And I'm here to bring you back."
---
Convincing Meera to leave the café and return to the estate wasn't easy. She was hesitant, her past too fragmented to trust easily. But Rudra's determination was unyielding. He stayed in the city for days, visiting her café every morning, their conversations gradually peeling away her doubts.
By the end of the week, Meera finally agreed.
---
The return to the estate was met with mixed reactions. While the family welcomed Meera warmly, the sudden arrival stirred the ever-present undercurrent of drama.
"So, this is the second one?" Aunt Sunita asked, her tone dripping with curiosity. "How many more are you planning to bring home, Rudra?"
"As many as it takes," he replied curtly, his patience wearing thin.
"Oh, this is going to be fun," Ishani whispered to Avni, who rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile.
---
That night, as Rudra stood on the balcony, the cool breeze ruffling his hair, Meera joined him. She was quiet for a moment before speaking.
"Do you think we'll find the others?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope and fear.
"I don't think," Rudra said firmly. "I know."
Meera looked at him, her gaze searching. "Why are you doing this, Rudra? Why does it matter so much to you?"
He didn't answer immediately, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. "Because it's what I owe them. And it's what I owe myself."
Meera nodded, her doubts easing in the face of his conviction.
As the night deepened, Rudra felt a sense of calm he hadn't experienced in years. Destiny was leading him, one thread at a time, and he was finally ready to follow its call.
The estate was alive with a peculiar energy the next morning. Meera had quickly found her place in the sprawling household, her calm demeanor balancing the chaos that often surrounded Rudra's family. Yet, Rudra's mind was already elsewhere. Two down, seven to go. The weight of destiny pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he was no stranger to responsibility.
As he sat in the study, reviewing reports from his business empire, Ishani waltzed in with her signature grin. "Guess what I found?"
Rudra didn't look up. "If it's another attempt to annoy me, save it."
"No, this is serious," she said, dropping a newspaper onto his desk. "You're going to want to see this."
The headline caught his attention immediately: "Brilliant Doctor Becomes Overnight Sensation with Miraculous Surgery." The article featured a young woman named Dr. Riya Kapoor, a rising star in the medical world. But it wasn't her accomplishments that made Rudra's breath hitch—it was her face. She was one of the nine.
He leaned back in his chair, the gears in his mind already turning. "Where is she?"
"Working at a hospital downtown," Ishani said, leaning against the desk. "Looks like destiny's throwing you another bone."
---
The hospital was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the Rudra estate. Its pristine walls and bustling corridors exuded a sense of purpose. Rudra walked with measured steps, his towering presence drawing curious glances from staff and patients alike. Beside him, Ishani struggled to suppress her amusement.
"Try not to scare her," she whispered. "Doctors don't handle surprises well."
"Quiet," Rudra said, his tone firm but lacking malice.
When they reached the surgical wing, they were directed to a small office at the end of the hall. Rudra knocked once before stepping inside. Riya was seated behind a desk, her glasses perched on her nose as she reviewed a patient file. She looked up, her expression shifting from professional detachment to startled recognition.
"You…" she began, standing abruptly. "I know you."
Rudra closed the door behind him, his gaze steady. "Riya."
Her name on his lips seemed to stir something deep within her. She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes searching his face. "How? How do I know you?"
Instead of answering, he placed the photograph on her desk. Riya stared at it, her fingers brushing the worn edges. Her breath hitched as fragments of memories surfaced, fleeting but vivid.
"I... remember this," she said, her voice trembling. "But it's all so blurry. Who are you?"
"I'm Rudra," he said simply. "And we have a past."
---
Riya's initial reaction was one of disbelief. She questioned him relentlessly, her logical mind struggling to reconcile the fragmented memories with the man standing before her. But as Rudra spoke of their shared history, her resistance began to waver.
By the time their conversation ended, Riya's once-unshakable confidence had been replaced by a quiet determination. "If what you're saying is true, I need answers. I need to remember."
"You will," Rudra assured her. "But you'll have to trust me."
Riya hesitated, her gaze searching his face. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. I'll come with you."
---
The return to the estate was met with yet another wave of excitement and curiosity. Riya, with her sharp wit and no-nonsense attitude, quickly found herself at odds with Ishani, whose penchant for teasing knew no bounds.
"So, you're a doctor," Ishani said, her tone playful. "Does that mean you're going to psychoanalyze Rudra now? God knows he needs it."
Riya raised an eyebrow. "I could, but I'd need a lot more time than I have."
The room erupted in laughter, and even Rudra's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.
---
Later that evening, Riya found herself alone in the garden, the cool breeze carrying the scent of jasmine. Meera joined her, their shared connection fostering an instant camaraderie.
"You're handling this well," Meera said, sitting beside her on the stone bench. "Better than I did."
Riya smiled faintly. "I don't know if I'm handling it at all. It's a lot to process."
"It is," Meera agreed. "But you're not alone. We're in this together."
The weight of her words settled over Riya like a comforting blanket. She looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling like fragments of a forgotten dream. For the first time in years, she felt a sense of belonging, however fragile.
---
Rudra watched them from the balcony, his expression unreadable. Destiny was guiding him, one thread at a time, but the journey was far from over. Each reunion brought him closer to healing the wounds of the past, but it also deepened his resolve.
The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he wouldn't stop until all nine were together again. Destiny demanded it, and Rudra was nothing if not a man who answered destiny's call.