Chapter One: The Beginning of the Unknown

Chapter One: The Beginning of the Unknown

Miss Chiru always told me that I was found in front of the orphanage, wrapped in a blanket, with nothing but a note bearing my name—Avni—and my birthdate, June 22nd. No one knew where I came from, why I was abandoned, or who my parents were. I grew up in the orphanage, surrounded by children with similar stories, but none exactly like mine.

Miss Chiru, the head of the orphanage, was the closest thing I had to a mother. She was a woman of strength and kindness, raising thousands of orphans over the years. She had been abandoned as a child herself, which was why she made it her life’s mission to give children like me a home, an education, and hope.

Under her care, we were never treated unfairly—girls and boys alike. But she often said, with sadness in her eyes, that most of the children left at the orphanage were girls. Society still saw daughters as burdens, discarding them in stations, parks, or outside the very gates where I was found.

For twenty years, the orphanage had been my only home. But now, that chapter was closing. I had secured a job, and it was time to leave. My heart ached at the thought of stepping beyond these walls, away from Miss Chiru’s warmth.

The day I left, she handed me ₹10,000, her way of ensuring I wouldn’t struggle. Tears filled her eyes, though she tried to hide them behind her saree’s corner.

“You were the strongest and most determined child here,” she told me. “I hope you will do great things in life. And maybe, one day, you will save another Avni, just like I saved you.”

I hugged her tightly, my tears dampening her shoulder. “I promise, Miss Chiru. I will never forget you. And I will help every child I can.”

The moment was heavy, yet it passed too quickly. My bags were placed in the taxi, and before I knew it, I was looking back at the orphanage for the last time, waving through a blur of tears.

———

Starting a new life was harder than I imagined. My apartment was small and quiet—too quiet. I missed the laughter and chaos of the orphanage. To fill the emptiness, I visited once a week. But soon, life caught up with me. Bills piled up, my job demanded more hours, and my visits became scarce.

Still, I sent money—₹30,000 of my ₹50,000 salary went to the orphanage every month. It wasn’t much, but I wanted to give back, to make sure no child there ever felt abandoned again.

But there was one secret, something only Miss Chiru and I knew.

Every leap year, on February 29th, I had a dream. A dream so vivid, so horrifying, that it left me gasping for breath. A dream of someone’s death.

The first time it happened, I was seven. The fear drove me to Miss Chiru’s room at 2 a.m., shaking as I recounted what I had seen. At first, she dismissed it as a nightmare. But two years later, my dream came true. The exact scene I had witnessed in my sleep unfolded in reality.

From that day, she believed me. And because of that belief, we had saved four lives.

———

Now, one year since I left the orphanage, it was February 29th again.

I dreaded the night. I knew what was coming. Another vision. Another death. Another life to save.

With a deep breath, I turned off the lamp and lay down, waiting for the nightmare to begin.

———

In my dream, I was walking down a road, phone in hand, when a deafening crash shattered the silence. A speeding bike slammed into a wall, the rider thrown across the pavement. People gathered, their faces pale with shock.

The young man lay there—tall, with black, messy hair, now stained with blood. His life slipped away as sirens wailed in the distance, too late to save him.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing.

The countdown had begun.

This was my mission. I had to save him.

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