I sat with my niece at the crowded Kashmir train station, preparing to leave for Mumbai. The bustling atmosphere of the station made it hard to focus on anything else.

"Divya, sit here and don't wander off. I'll be right back," I reassured her, scanning the area cautiously.

To my surprise, I noticed him standing nearby. Hastily, I covered Divya's face with my dupatta. How had he tracked us here? Did he know we were at the station?

Just then, the station announcement came, indicating a 15-minute delay due to technical issues. My heart raced as I contemplated escaping from those who threatened our peaceful life.

"Why am I running for my life? When will this endless escape end? I'm exhausted from being on the run! Will they ever let me have peace? What if they find out about Divya?" I pondered, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

Divya, unaware of the danger, wondered why she had to cover her face. Fortunately, the train arrived just in time, providing a chance to escape his prying eyes. We both boarded, eager to find our compartment.

Divya took a seat by the window, and I noticed a woman with a child nearby. They both waved at us, and I waved back. Divya gazed out of the window, excited about her very first train journey, perhaps the longest one she'd ever had.

"Hi, I'm Gauri, and this is my daughter, Neha. Nice to meet you!" the woman introduced herself.

"Oh, hehe! Hi, I'm Shivina, and this is my sister, Divya. Nice to meet you too! Where are you heading?" I responded.

"We were going to Pune to visit my husband; it's been a while. What about you?" Gauri inquired.

"Well, I'm going to Kashmir for work," I replied. Kashmir had always been a dream destination for me, a place where I hoped to find peace and the life I desired. As the train finally started moving, I felt a sense of relief.

"Shivi, I've always wanted to ask you about our parents, but whenever I brought it up, you would deflect the question and refuse to answer. Why won't you tell me about them? Please, tell me now," Divya implored.

I hesitated, fearing that revealing the truth about her parents would lead to more unanswerable questions.

"Divya, people are watching us! You know the answer, so why are you still asking?" I cautioned her.

"If that's the case, why don't you show me pictures of our parents?" Divya persisted.

"Stop it, Divya! Be quiet!" I urged, feeling the weight of my secrets and past bearing down on me.

The night was long, and Divya eventually fell asleep. I left the compartment briefly to get some fresh air. Unexpectedly, the woman from earlier followed me into the corridor.

"Namaste, can I talk to you for a moment? I just want to ask a few questions," she said.

I bristled at the intrusion but decided to entertain her questions. She began, "I don't think any of your parents are deceased. It seems like you're hiding from her for some reason. Whatever the reason, the girl deserves to know the truth about her parents. Sometimes, running away won't solve the problem. I hope you understand that."

Her words struck a chord with me. I was tired of running, and I knew Divya deserved to know the truth, even if it meant confronting a painful past.

"Thank you for your perspective," I replied. "Sometimes, the solution to a problem may not be running away, and I understand that now."

As the train journey continued, I couldn't escape the weight of my past and the secrets I had buried. The next morning held significant changes for both of us. I stepped out of the compartment briefly to gather my thoughts and get some fresh air. The woman approached me once more, and I couldn't help but reflect on our conversation the previous day.

"I can also ask you these questions, but I won't because I know that people like you will never stop until you get answers, even if it doesn't benefit your life," I admitted. "You don't know the struggles I've faced. I hope you can stop judging me and mind your own business. I've shared what I could, and this conversation should end here."

After our conversation, the woman appeared somewhat uncomfortable and guilty. The train announcement indicated that the next station, Pune Train Station, would arrive in 15 minutes. She hastily packed her belongings, and Dhivya offered to help. As the station came into view, the woman and her child disembarked, waving goodbye to us.

"Shivi, Neha finally got off! You have no idea how annoying she was; I barely kept up with her. Seriously!" Dhivya exclaimed.

Dhivya continued talking excitedly, and from her complaints, I gathered that Neha was just like her mother, meddling in people's lives. After the woman's departure, I began to feel something was amiss, trusting my instincts.

I decided it would be better to change seats and move to another part of the train with a better compartment.

"Shivi, by the way, I wanted to know why we're changing seats. Did that woman annoy you like her daughter annoyed me?" Dhivya asked. While I chuckled at her question, I spotted an empty seat.

"Hello, mister, is this seat vacant?" I asked an old man.

He replied that the compartment had been covered by the curtain for the past two days and that his seat was also going to be empty as he was getting off. The train announced the arrival of the next station, and the old man disembarked. Dhivya and I moved our bags to the opposite berth, and it was already evening, with the compartment still covered by curtains.

"Did they love to enjoy so much privacy?" I wondered aloud, feeling that something was off about that compartment. I decided to look, but I didn't want to invade their privacy.

However, Dhivya was quite interested in the compartment I had planned to occupy, so she opened the curtain.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed, startling the other passengers.

"Divya, what's going on? Why are you screaming like that? Did you see a ghost in there?" I asked.

She pointed with trembling hands towards the compartment that was concealed behind the curtain. I was taken aback when I saw that the place was drenched in blood, and I noticed an unconscious man with the notorious terrorist 'Umar Farooq' bound with ropes, both of them badly injured.

"I suppose this should be normal, as Kashmir has seen plenty of this madness," I thought to myself, trying to stay calm. I immediately began cleaning their wounds and providing emergency treatment to the man who was lying there, severely injured, and wearing a bulletproof jacket.

"He lost a lot of blood, and luckily, I had some medical supplies that could help with a blood transfusion, as I have an O+ blood type," I explained to Dhivya. "We need to help him recover. We should also consider hospitalizing him, as he needs further medical attention. Don't worry; he's safe now."

Meanwhile, Dhivya and I

cleaned the compartment and sat beside the injured man, taking care of him while I donated my blood to help him recover.

"That man doesn't have any patience at all! He didn't even let me speak," I remarked after the phone call.

"Well, that's kind of rude! Shivi, why do I feel like you're hiding things from me? Why don't you tell me about my parents? I heard you talking to that woman just now. Please tell me. I do have the right to know about my parents," Dhivya insisted.

"Shut up, Dhivya! This would be the last time we're talking about this because I'm done with this conversation. This ends here, right now!" I told her firmly.

Soon after, the man from the phone call arrived. He was shocked to see me and asked, "Who the hell are you? Why do you have his phone? What happened to him?"

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but the man you're looking for is right there on the couch, bound with ropes, with the infamous terrorist Faruq. I found him in critical condition, unconscious. He required immediate surgery, which I performed as I'm a surgeon. I'm donating my blood to him, as he was severely injured and needed it. He will wake up within three hours. Don't worry; he's safe now," I explained to the man, who then introduced himself as Abhimanyu Mehra, working at the Kashmir Army Base.

As we spoke, I was taken aback when he mentioned that the train had been hijacked, a fact I was unaware of. The revelation left me in shock.

"Oh, I see! Are you from Kashmir? I'm going there too. So, you and the man over there, both army officers. By the way, I'm Shivani Dixit, and this is my curious sister, Dhivya. You do not need to apologize to me as I understand the situation. It was fair," I told him.

"Okay, I got selected to work at the Kashmir Army Base Hospital as a chief general surgeon. Besides, I thought I could use some peace," Abhimanyu shared.

Our conversation revealed the gravity of the situation, and I began to grasp the risks involved in this journey to Kashmir.