Part Three: The Hundred-Crore Night
Ajay's eyes snapped open with a violent jolt. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and a sharp sting burned in his chest, as if a glowing coal had been placed beneath his ribs. He looked around the room, frantic and disoriented. Where was the little girl with the blue eyes? Where was the woman in the silk saree whose touch felt like a long-lost identity?
Silence. That same lethal silence.
The room had reverted into an opulent museum. The dal on the table sat cold, and the pages of the photo albums were blank once more. Was it just a momentary slumber, or a 'trial'? With trembling hands, Ajay checked his watch. He had only 6 hours left. The reprieve granted by the doctor was slipping through his fingers like dry sand.
He grabbed his phone. The number was still there in his call logs. He tracked the location—the address of a famous skyscraper in Chandigarh glowed on his screen.
"Ram Singh!" he barked, calling for his old driver.
Within minutes, his limousine was tearing through the deserted city streets. The rain had intensified, as if the heavens were weeping at Ajay's desperate scramble. The car screeched to a halt in front of a massive corporate building. On the 18th floor, a cold blue light pulsed, looking like the eye of a predator in the dark.
Ajay's steps were unsteady, but the sheer will to survive pulled him forward. The elevator doors hissed open on the 18th floor. Ahead lay a corridor of such blinding whiteness that it stung the eyes. It wasn't silent; instead, there was a low, electric hum, like a massive machine breathing.
He reached a reception desk. Behind it sat a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her hair was pulled back in a perfect bun, and her smile lacked any human warmth—it was precise, calculated, and 'perfect.'
"Welcome, Mr. Mehra," she said without even looking up. "We knew you would come. You didn't get to feel the full depth of our 'trial'."
Ajay was gasping for air. "I... I want that life. I don't want to die."
The receptionist rose and led him through a heavy glass door. The room inside was a temple of modern technology, with holographic screens floating in the air. A cold, robotic voice resonated through the space.
"Mr. Mehra, science cannot stop your death, but it can reclaim your 'lost time.' Do you realize that a seventy-year-old human spends nearly 23 years of their life simply sleeping? That time, when your body was dormant but your consciousness was active... that is the time you donated to the darkness, thinking it was useless."
Ajay lifted his heavy eyelids. "What do you mean?"
The receptionist pointed toward a screen. "We can give you back those very nights of your life when you were asleep. Those nights when you closed your eyes out of exhaustion while life waited outside for you. What you do in those nights, and who you spend them with, will be your choice. We will project your consciousness back into those specific dates."
Ajay's eyes widened. "How is that possible?"
"It is 'Time-Lease' technology. We will select 14 such nights from your memory—nights when you slept through deep sorrow or profound exhaustion. We will give you 14 nights. In those 14 nights, you can live every joy you ever abandoned."
A spark of hope lit up Ajay's face, but it was instantly frozen by the receptionist's next words
"But there is a price, Mr. Mehra. And we aren't asking for scraps of paper. We are asking for the very bricks of your empire."
Ajay panted, "How much?"
The receptionist looked him straight in the eye and said, "The price for one night is 100 Crore rupees. A total of 1400 Crore."
The room fell into a deathly silence. 1400 Crore—a sum people spend generations trying to earn. Ajay had spent his entire life amassing this wealth. For this money, he had sacrificed marriage, ignored festivals, and was signing a business deal even as his parents drew their last breaths.
He thought to himself—What will I do with these billions? Will these notes act as silk lining for my shroud? Will these coins cool the fires of my pyre?
He had only 6 hours of life left. Or, he could buy 14 nights—nights where he wouldn't sleep, but 'live.' Where he could hold the hand of the woman he had abandoned thirty years ago. Where he could rekindle the sparks in the ashes of his forgotten dreams.
"I accept," Ajay said, his voice carrying an eerie strength. "Take it all. My bank balance, my mansions, my shares... everything. Just give me those 14 nights. If I must die, I want to die knowing I was once truly alive."
The receptionist handed him a tablet. With a shaking hand, Ajay scrawled his digital signature. As he pressed 'OK,' the room's lights turned a warning red.
"The deal is sealed, Mr. Mehra. Your first night begins... December 14, 2012. Do you remember that night? When, after your father's funeral, you locked yourself in a luxury hotel room and took sleeping pills to avoid the pain? Today, you go back there. But this time, you will not sleep."
Ajay felt his body becoming weightless. The walls of the 18th floor began to blur. He felt as if he were being plunged into a bottomless well. The ticking of that 100-crore watch echoed in his ears, rewriting the final pages of his life.
Suddenly, he felt a chill. The air didn't smell like a hospital anymore. It smelled of expensive scotch and cigarette smoke. He opened his eyes. He wasn't in his office or a clinic.
He was in that same luxurious hotel suite from 2012. His father's photograph sat on the table, and next to it lay a strip of sleeping pills.
Ajay's hands were no longer old and wrinkled. They possessed the strength of his younger self. He looked in the mirror—he looked fourteen years younger. But his mind was crystal clear: he had only 14 nights, and every passing second was costing him 100 Crore rupees.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ajay's heart hammered against his ribs. Was this another 'rented family,' or a ghost from his real past?
He opened the door. Standing there was the woman he had sacrificed years ago at the altar of his ambition. Her eyes were shimmering with tears.
"Ajay... I knew you'd be alone," she whispered.
Ajay's throat tightened. He realized that every single second of this 100-crore night was more precious than a diamond. He pulled her inside and began to sob uncontrollably. This was the grief he had suppressed in 2012 by forcing himself to sleep.
But he didn't know that 'The Second Chance Agency' had hidden a terrifying truth from him. Those 14 nights weren't just about happiness... they contained a dark secret that threatened to destroy him long before death could.
Continue.....