The rain had returned—tapping endlessly against the tin roof, a slow and steady rhythm that filled the quiet safehouse.
They came back changed.
Each footstep across the damp floor echoed the heaviness in their hearts. No one spoke. They didn't need to. The silence said everything—the things they had seen, the people they had lost, the parts of themselves that didn't make it back.
Sanaa's parents—Mr. and Mrs. Khan—stood in the doorway, welcoming each of them in with a kind smile and a steady hand. They, too, were tired, but their presence brought something the others had forgotten: calm.
"We're here now," Mr. Khan said gently, laying a hand on Dev's shoulder. "Together. That's what matters."
"Your parents loved you," Mrs. Khan added with a faint smile, stopping beside Tanya. "And they wanted you to live. That love stays… even when they don't."
They moved through the group with quiet grace—offering nothing more than touch and warmth. But somehow, that was enough. The tension in some shoulders eased. Eyes softened. The ache didn't vanish, but for the first time in hours, it stopped growing.
Sanaa stood back, watching.
Her parents were alive… and somehow, that made her ache too.
Night – Safehouse Common Room
The safehouse was dim, lit by weak bulbs and lantern fire. Most sat or slumped wherever they could—on crates, folded blankets, even the floor.
Bhargav sat with fists clenched, eyes staring into nothing.Tanya sniffled silently, wiping tears she didn't want to acknowledge.Ayush leaned back against a crate, his jaw locked, eyes half-closed, lost in something distant and burning.
Sanaa's parents sat beside each other. Hands intertwined. Not speaking—just holding on.
Mrs. Khan turned toward her daughter, who was curled up nearby, face wet with fresh tears.
"Your pain," she whispered gently, brushing a strand of hair from Sanaa's cheek, "is your heart healing. That doesn't mean you're broken."
Sanaa didn't answer. But she let herself lean into the touch.
Later That Night – Lantern Light
Sanaa sat beside Ananya, a small lantern flickering between them. The safehouse had quieted—most were asleep, or pretending to be.
Her voice was no louder than the rain outside.
"Sometimes I feel like… I don't deserve this. That my parents made it means I'm betraying everyone who lost theirs."
Ananya looked at her for a long moment.
"No one is betraying anyone," she said, her voice soft but firm. "We all carry different scars. What matters is… we carry them together."
They didn't speak after that.
They didn't need to.
One look between them was enough. In it lived understanding—of sorrow, of guilt, of survival. And of love.
Rooftop – Deep Night
Ayush stood with Kartik on the roof, both of them gazing out across the drowned ruins of the city. Rain rolled down rusted railings and cracked satellite dishes. The world below them lay still—broken but quiet.
Ayush's expression was unreadable.
"We lost so much," he said finally. "But we still have each other. That's our strength."
Kartik gave a slow nod. His hands were deep in his pockets, but his eyes were steady.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we keep moving. We survive. We protect."
Ayush didn't answer right away.
He looked toward the storm-shrouded horizon—and then back down at the dim lights below, where the others slept.
Even in all this ruin, something still beat at the heart of their group—something fragile, yes. But real.
They had grief.They had pain.But they also had each other.
And sometimes… that was enough.
[EPISODE 5 — END]