25-10-2025, 01:55 AM
Scene 2, Strangers in Ruins
The wind had calmed, but the air still carried the smell of salt, smoke, and rain-soaked earth. The sea, hidden behind a wall of shattered palms, murmured like a restless memory. Naveen stirred, wincing as the dull ache in his shoulder pulsed again, deep, rhythmic, like the echo of waves still moving inside him.
For a long moment, he simply breathed, feeling the strange quiet pressing against his ears. Even silence had a sound here, the faint hiss of sand shifting, the drip of water falling from broken leaves.
Then the memories surged back, the storm, the wall of water, his wife’s voice cut off mid-cry, the small arms that slipped from his grasp. He pressed a hand to his forehead, his palm gritty with salt. The sea had swallowed everything, and yet somehow he was still here.
“Anaya… Rishi…” he murmured, the names trembling out of him, part plea, part disbelief. Only the ocean answered, a patient, endless hum that made his heart ache all over again.
Beside him, the girl stirred. Her long hair clung to her face in dark strands, her skin pale and waxy from exhaustion. For a heartbeat, Naveen almost didn’t register that she was real.
She looked up, eyes wide, fear flickering across them like lightning. “Please… I— I don’t know where my parents are…”
Naveen’s instincts moved before his mind did. He knelt beside her, his fingers finding her wrist, checking her pulse with practiced calm. The movement was automatic, a habit built through years of saving lives, and yet his hands shook slightly.
“You’re alright,” he said gently. “Just a few scbangs. You must have swallowed seawater. Try to breathe slow.”
She nodded weakly, gulping air. “Where… where are we?”
“I think we’ve drifted to one of the smaller islands,” he said, scanning the horizon, the wreckage scattered like broken bones, the thin mist hanging over the palms. “I’m Dr. Naveen. We were on the same ferry, weren’t we?”
“Kavya,” she whispered after a moment. “I was with my parents and my brother. They… they were behind me when the wave hit.”
Naveen’s gaze swept across the beach, a horizon of ruin and silence. “We’ll look for them,” he said quietly, though the steadiness in his tone was more discipline than hope.
The wind had calmed, but the air still carried the smell of salt, smoke, and rain-soaked earth. The sea, hidden behind a wall of shattered palms, murmured like a restless memory. Naveen stirred, wincing as the dull ache in his shoulder pulsed again, deep, rhythmic, like the echo of waves still moving inside him.
For a long moment, he simply breathed, feeling the strange quiet pressing against his ears. Even silence had a sound here, the faint hiss of sand shifting, the drip of water falling from broken leaves.
Then the memories surged back, the storm, the wall of water, his wife’s voice cut off mid-cry, the small arms that slipped from his grasp. He pressed a hand to his forehead, his palm gritty with salt. The sea had swallowed everything, and yet somehow he was still here.
“Anaya… Rishi…” he murmured, the names trembling out of him, part plea, part disbelief. Only the ocean answered, a patient, endless hum that made his heart ache all over again.
Beside him, the girl stirred. Her long hair clung to her face in dark strands, her skin pale and waxy from exhaustion. For a heartbeat, Naveen almost didn’t register that she was real.
She looked up, eyes wide, fear flickering across them like lightning. “Please… I— I don’t know where my parents are…”
Naveen’s instincts moved before his mind did. He knelt beside her, his fingers finding her wrist, checking her pulse with practiced calm. The movement was automatic, a habit built through years of saving lives, and yet his hands shook slightly.
“You’re alright,” he said gently. “Just a few scbangs. You must have swallowed seawater. Try to breathe slow.”
She nodded weakly, gulping air. “Where… where are we?”
“I think we’ve drifted to one of the smaller islands,” he said, scanning the horizon, the wreckage scattered like broken bones, the thin mist hanging over the palms. “I’m Dr. Naveen. We were on the same ferry, weren’t we?”
“Kavya,” she whispered after a moment. “I was with my parents and my brother. They… they were behind me when the wave hit.”
Naveen’s gaze swept across the beach, a horizon of ruin and silence. “We’ll look for them,” he said quietly, though the steadiness in his tone was more discipline than hope.
.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)