Story: The Night We Almost Didn’t Come Home

Nobody plans for chaos, especially not on an ordinary evening drive home. For Aarav, his wife Pooja, and their six-year-old daughter Myra, the plan had been simple—wrap up their family function and head home, hoping to get Myra to bed on time. But Mumbai had other plans that night.

PART 1: THE RIDE

It was 9:45 pm when Aarav hailed a cab outside the bustling marriage hall. Tired but in high spirits, he bundled his family into the back seat—a routine ride across town so familiar they hardly noticed the driver, a man named Suresh, whose eyes were restless in the rear-view mirror.

The engine started with a heavy rattle. As the headlights sliced through the jumble of cars, Pooja leaned her head against the window. She didn’t notice as Suresh checked his mirrors repeatedly, the muscle in his jaw twitching with nervousness.

“This isn’t the usual route,” Aarav remarked suddenly, peering at his phone’s map.

“Shortcut, sir. Less traffic,” Suresh replied without turning around, but his hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles shone white.

A few harrowing minutes later, the cab swerved dangerously past a barricade. Myra was startled awake, sitting bolt upright.

“Are we there yet, Papa?” she whimpered.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Just a little more,” Aarav tried to soothe her, but unease had lodged itself in his chest.

PART 2: TENSION BUILDS

Suddenly, blue and red lights flashed in the distance. A squad car sat ahead. Suresh muttered something under his breath, abruptly changing lanes and picking up speed.

“Arre bhaiya, aage jaake koi problem toh nahi ho jayega?” Aarav asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Suresh ignored the question, accelerating.

“Bhaiya!” Pooja shouted, “Bachchi hai saath mein. Please slow down!”

But Suresh seemed deaf to their pleas.

Aarav’s tone became desperate. “Bhaiya, please, sirf rok dijiye. Let us out! You can keep the fare, just stop the cab!”

But Suresh only grunted, “Police trouble hoga. Please, trust me, I take care,” his accent thick and hurried.

“That’s not the point!” Aarav snapped back, a tremor in his voice. “If we keep going like this, WE will be in trouble!”

Myra began to cry softly in Pooja’s lap. “Mah, I want to go home. I’m scared.”

Pooja clasped her daughter, her voice breaking. “Driver uncle, please just stop. I’m begging you. My child is here, for God’s sake.”

Behind them, the police sirens wailed ever closer.

PART 3: FEAR

It was clear now—Suresh was running. From what? Aarav didn’t know, but he realized it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was protecting his family.

Pooja tried again, softer, hoping she might reach the driver’s humanity, “Bhaiya…if you’re in trouble, that’s your business, but please don’t involve us. We just want to go home. Please. Let us out.”

But Suresh’s panic only built. “Sir, madam, no choice. Papers are broken. Police won’t let me go. I make sure you are safe. Five minutes. Just five minutes and I let you out.”

Aarav gripped the door handle, ready to jump if he had to. “Stop the car. I’ll pay you double—triple—the fare. Please, my daughter, she’s only six…if you have any heart—”

“I have contacts!” Suresh shouted, voice cracking. “I’ll call them. I’ll get you out. Please, just five minutes—”

Aarav realized things were spiraling. He tried the window button—it clicked and buzzed uselessly. Locked.

“Slow down at least!” Pooja pleaded again, tears running down her cheeks. “Myra, don’t cry. We’ll be okay.”

PART 4: PANIC PEAKS

Then suddenly, Suresh slammed on the brakes. The car shuddered to a stop next to an abandoned godown at the side of a near-empty road.

“Jaldi utro!” Suresh said, his tone raw with fear and guilt.

Aarav didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Myra in one arm and pulled Pooja with the other. They stumbled out into the night, feet pounding against the pavement.

“Go, just go!” Suresh shouted, already snarling the cab into gear, racing off down a side street just as police cruisers zoomed into view. Headlights swept over them; a shrill voice crackled through a police megaphone.

Within seconds, three officers surrounded Aarav’s little family.

“What happened here? Are you hurt? Who was in that car with you?” the police officer demanded.

Aarav, shaking, held his family tight. “He—he wasn’t letting us out. He seemed scared. Running from something. Please, we’re not involved. Myra…she just wants to go home.”

A young officer, seeing the pale Myra clinging to Pooja, softened. “You’re safe now. Take a breath. We’ll get you to safety.”

PART 5: THE AFTERMATH

At the police station, the family gave their statements as best as they could. The story of the runaway driver who picked up a young family by chance spread through the station. As the hours slid by and Myra dozed off in her mother’s lap, an officer finally came over.

“We’ve found the cab. Your driver was trying to escape after a hit-and-run a few blocks away. There are a few people hurt. But you’re safe now.”

Aarav let the words sink in. A different path, a split-second decision, and their entire story might have ended in tragedy.

They got home just as morning seeped into the city. Aarav tucked Myra into bed, smoothing her hair out of her face. Pooja leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed tight around herself.

It took a long time before Aarav fell asleep that day. But he kept returning to one thought: Sometimes, it only takes a single night, a single wrong turn, for everything to change. But for today, his family was safe.

EPILOGUE

In the days that followed, Aarav retraced every moment in his head. He realized how quickly a seemingly normal night could turn into a fight for survival—all because of trusting the wrong person, of not acting early enough.

But above all, he learned how precious—and how fragile—those ordinary, taken-for-granted moments with loved ones truly are.