Thriller surya..

[Viking45]

A Call in the Night

At 1:00 AM, the phone in Room 405 of Bengaluru’s Leela Palace Hotel pierced the silence. Surya, groggy and irritated, picked it up. “Do you know what time it is?” he snapped.

A stern voice responded, “Mr. Surya, you have an urgent meeting with the boss tomorrow morning.”

“I’m unwell. Tell them I can’t make it,” Surya replied, hanging up. The line went dead.

Two minutes later, the hotel reception phone rang. Fifteen minutes after that, a Delhi flight confirmation pinged on Surya’s mobile. Delhi meant one thing to him: Anjali. Her name stirred a rush of emotions. Anjali loved Surya fiercely, but they hadn’t spoken in nine months. There was a reason—a wound, both physical and emotional, he couldn’t yet face.

Lost in thoughts of her, Surya drifted to sleep.

At dawn, dressed in a crisp white shirt, navy trousers, and black formal shoes, Surya landed in Delhi at 6:00 AM, carrying no luggage. A woman waited outside the airport, and they drove to the Ashoka Hotel. Anjali consumed his thoughts. Meeting her would take ten minutes; one call, and she’d rush to him. But not yet—not for another three months.

In the hotel lobby, Surya spotted his boss, Colonel Rithika, and offered a faint smile. He handed his phone and wallet to the reception and sat across from her.

“How are you, Surya?” Rithika asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his voice flat.

Rithika leaned forward. “There’s an ACCOUNTING job in Jordan. Immediate departure. If you’re ready, you’ll be on a plane in six hours. What’s your answer?”

“I’m unfit,” Surya said. “My injury hasn’t healed. It’s still raw, bleeding lightly. The doctor ordered two months of bed rest.”

Rithika’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Surya. Why hasn’t it healed? Are you resting? People visit your room daily. How many have you USED through this month? You haven’t left your room in three days.”

Surya smirked. “You saw me in my room, half-dressed, didn’t you, Rithika ?”

“Don’t call me Rithika,” she snapped. “It’s Boss or Colonel Rithika.”

“Is all this anger directed at me?” Surya teased.

“Don’t change the topic,” she said. “Let’s discuss the job.”

“Time’s short,” Rithika continued. “The target in Jordan must be eliminated by tomorrow afternoon. The window is narrow. Miss it, and we wait six months.”

“Find someone else,” Surya said. “Haven’t you looked for alternatives?”

“Everyone’s on assignment,” she replied.

“Sorry, Boss. I can’t help.”

Rithika nodded to her secretary. “Send a message to the NSA office: ALPHA 45 is unavailable.”

“No problem, Surya,” she said. “Rest. But be ready asap. Come to my place for dinner tonight.”

“Your husband’s out of town, isn’t he?” Surya quipped.

Rithika raised an eyebrow, gesturing behind him. Surya turned to see Rajiv, her husband.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Rajiv grinned. “Not calling anymore? Too many girlfriends?”

“I’m good, sir,” Surya said. “How about you?”

“Fine,” Rajiv replied. “But your ma’am’s worried sick about you.”

“Take care,” Rajiv added, leaving.

Rithika’s tone shifted. “How’s Anjali?”

Silence.

“And Vaishnavi?”

More silence.

“What’s wrong with you, Surya?”

He stayed quiet.

“What does this silence mean?” she pressed.

“You’ll know soon,” Surya said. “Three more months.”

“They’re both good girls,” Rithika said. “Pick one.”

“I want both,” Surya said, half-serious.

“Do they know?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“You’re digging your own grave,” Rithika warned. “Go talk to Anjali.”

“She’d kill me if she saw me like this,” Surya said. “Nine months of no contact. If I meet her, it won’t end at a coffee shop. We’ll end up at her flat, and in a minute, she’ll see my injury.”

Rithika chuckled. “True. I felt the same seeing you at Leela Palace.”

Surya laughed loudly. “Enough, stop it!”

“Any other updates?” she asked.

“All good,” he said.

“Watch your finances,” Rithika advised. “Need money?”

Surya flashed three fingers. “Vizag, Paris, Delhi.”

“Good,” she said. Her phone rang, and she stepped away for twenty minutes.

Surya rested his head on the table, exhausted. When Rithika returned, she ordered breakfast for them. She tried waking him, but he didn’t stir.

“Bleeding,” he mumbled weakly.

Rithika saw blood pooling under her shoe and froze. She called security, cradled Surya’s head in her lap, and rushed him to the hospital.

Before losing consciousness, Surya whispered, “I need to see Anju and Vaishu once.”

At the hospital’s trauma center, doctors performed a minor surgery, cleaning his injury. Post-operation, they revealed his intestines had developed an infection, which they removed and stitched. “Three days of observation,” they said. “He narrowly escaped septic shock. Lucky guy.”

A nurse approached Rithika. “Who is he to you?”

“My brother,” she said.

“Blood relation?” the nurse asked.

“Work relation,” Rithika clarified.

“Anyone else in his life?” the nurse inquired.

“No one,” Rithika said. “He’s alone.”

“I saw his back during anesthesia,” the nurse confided. “It’s covered in deep scars, beyond scratches. The skin’s torn. The doctor applied ointment and dressed it. They look recent.”

Rithika forced a smile. “Are you married?” she asked the nurse.

Blushing, the nurse shook her head.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Rithika said. “Thanks.”

She paid the bill, sat outside, and sent her secretary to the archives for Surya’s last assignment report. Reading it, one page shocked her. She called Anjali and Vaishnavi, informing them of Surya’s condition, and booked Vaishnavi’s next flight from Vizag.

As she waited, memories of meeting Surya flooded back, and tears fell.