1 Storm Without, Storm Within By Dr. D. N. Jha Dinker Bo ok Available fo r Free on Kindle Unlimited : https://www.amazon. com /dp/B0DYNPRZ6V/ 2 About the Book A relentless storm rages outside, but the real turbulence lies within. When Arvind and Sumitra, an aging couple living in seclusion near the forest, open their doors to five strangers stranded by the merciless downpour, they believe they are offering nothing more than shelter for the night. But as the storm grows fiercer, an unsettling tension builds within the walls of their home. Each guest carries secrets — some whispere d, some buried deep — and soon, the air grows thick with suspicion. At the heart of it all is a lingering mystery: Ayan, the couple’s son, has been missing for weeks. Though Arvind and Sumitra had initially dismissed his absence as routine, something about this night, about these guests, makes them question everything. The unease escalates when strange noises echo from the empty rooms upstairs, and an unexpected knock at the door raises the chilling question — are they truly alone in the house? As fear takes root, paranoia sets in. The storm outside becomes a mere backdrop to the greater tempest within — one of doubt, deception, and revelations waiting to surface. The once - safe home turns into a battleground of wits and wills, where each individual must confront their own past, their own motives, and the part they may unknowingly play in the growing enigma. Storm Without, Storm Within is a gripping mystery that explores fear in its many forms — fear of the unknown, of past mistakes, of secrets unraveling in the dead of night. With every page, the suspense tightens like the grip of the storm itself, pulling the reader into a web of deception, desperation, and the unsettling realization that sometimes, the greatest storms are the ones that rage within us. In this storm, the real danger is not what lurks outside — but what each person is hiding within. Perfect for fans of psychological thrillers and slow - burning mysteries, this novel will keep you turning pages deep into the night, questioning every shadow, every footstep, and every whispered word. 3 About the Author Dr. D. N. Jha Dinker Dr. D. N. Jha Dinker is a business strategist, engineer, and digital transformation expert with a distinguished academic and professional background. A management graduate of the Indian Institute of Management Calcutta, he also holds an engineering degree from the National Institute of Technology, Jamshedpur. Since 2002, Dr. Dinker has held an executive role at a leading oil & gas company, where he has been instrumental in shaping digital transformation strategies and IT frameworks. His expertise extends beyond technology into business strategy and finance, wit h several research papers published in reputed international journals. With Storm Without, Storm Within , Dr. Dinker ventures into fiction for the first time, weaving a gripping mystery that explores human psychology, trust, and the unseen forces that shape our fears. His keen analytical mind, honed through years of strategizing and problem - solving, brings d epth to his storytelling, making this novel a compelling blend of suspense, intrigue, and emotional complexity. Check Dr Dinker’s LinkedIn profile: https://www.linkedin.com/in/dinkerjha/ 4 Storm Within, Storm Without Contents About the Book ................................ ................................ ................................ ...................... 2 About the Author ................................ ................................ ................................ .................... 3 Chapter 1: The Storm Begins ................................ ................................ ................................ .. 5 Chapter 2: A Growing Unease ................................ ..................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 3: The Storm Intensifies ................................ ................. Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 4: Whispers in the Dark ................................ ................. Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 5: Into the Shadows ................................ ...................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 6: The Secrets We Keep ................................ ................. Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 7: A Dark Secret ................................ ............................ Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 8: Secrets in the Shadows ................................ ............. Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 9: The Shadows Close In ................................ ............... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 10: Unmasking the Truth ................................ ................ Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 11: The Web Tightens ................................ .................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 12: The Final Gamble ................................ .................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 13: The Truth in the Open ................................ ............... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 14: The Final Choice ................................ ...................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 15: Unravelling the Web ................................ ................. Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 16: Storm Subsides ................................ ....................... Error! Bookmark not defined. Chapter 17: Aftermath ................................ ................................ Error! Bookmark not defined. 5 Chapter 1: The Storm Begins August 14th, 2023. It was a stormy night in the secluded village of Chaukori, nestled in the hills of Uttarakhand. The wind howled through the valley, rattling windows and sending tree branches crashing to the ground. Rain lashed against the rooftops in an unrelenting downpour, turning the narrow, winding roads into treach erous streams of mud and debris. The sky, an endless swirl of dark clouds, flashed with bursts of lightning that illuminated the eerie silence of the otherwise isolated village. This was not an ordinary storm. On August 4, a massive landslide had struck the Kedarnath Yatra route in Rudraprayag district, swallowing parts of the path in an avalanche of rocks and earth. The disaster had claimed at least three lives, leaving 19 indivi duals missing. It was a grim reminder of nature’s fury, of how fragile life could be in these unforgiving mountains. The aftermath had left the region shaken — villagers whispering about omens, travellers hesitating before venturing into the high - altitude tr ails, and families mourning those who had been lost to the shifting earth. Things had not been easy in the hills this year. The India Meteorological Department had issued a red alert for multiple districts across Uttarakhand, warning of relentless, torrential rain. Rivers swelled beyond their limits, devouring farmlands and villa ges in their path. Roads became death traps, blocked by landslides or simply vanishing beneath the force of nature’s wrath. The mountain air, usually crisp and fresh, was thick with the scent of wet earth, damp wood, and an underlying sense of unease. The rain lashed against the roof of the old stone house, a structure that had weathered many seasons, its thick walls echoing with the sound of the wind. The Chadda Haveli, an aging yet dignified relic of a bygone era, stood at the edge of the dense forest, its weathered stone walls whispering tales of lost grandeur. Once the proud home of a zamindar, it had been reluctantly sold in the 1950s, a time when a ristocrats clung to their fading prestige while their fortunes crumbled. Arvind's father, a forest off icer stationed in the region, had seized the opportunity to buy the sprawling estate, drawn to its quiet solitude and the untamed wilderness that surrounded it. Decades later, after a long 6 career as a professor at Punjab University, Arvind Chadda chose to return to the haveli upon retirement. Perhaps it was nostalgia, or perhaps it was the silent promise of belonging that the house had always held. But in its vast halls and shadowed corners, time had not stood still — it had only gathered, waiting. Inside, Arvind Chadda and his wife Sumitra Chadda sat in the dimly lit living room, the only source of warmth the faint glow of the hearth that struggled to keep the cold at bay. Arvind, his once - proud stature hunched with age, sat staring into the flickering flames. His face, once strong a nd full of life, now bore the marks of countless years spent in solitude and sorrow. His once - sharp eyes, now clouded by the passage of time, seemed to peer through the flames as if searching for something that no longer existed. His mind, tired and worn, wandered back to better days, to times when he could still hold onto hope, when his son Ayan’s letters arrived regularly, and their lives felt full. Sumitra, her frail hands folded in her lap, sat beside him. Her silver hair, once vibrant, was now thin and scattered, and her soft blue eyes reflected a quiet sadness. Her thoughts, too, seemed to drift like the wind outside, but there was something more — an unease that had settled deep in her bones. She had long ago stopped hearing the sounds of life that had filled their home. The house, now shrouded in silence, felt oppressive. It was as if the walls themselves were whispering something — something she cou ldn’t quite understand, but that she knew was important. It gnawed at her, made her feel like something was wrong, even though she couldn't put her finger on it. For weeks now, there had been no word from Ayan, their only son. He had been living in the United States for several years, but their calls had always been frequent, the connection strong. Now, silence. There had been no messages, no updates, nothing to ex plain the sudden absence. Arvind tried to dismiss it, assuring her that Ayan was simply busy with his work. But Sumitra’s intuition told her otherwise. The house was too quiet, the nights too long, and the uncertainty too suffocating. The storm outside seemed to reflect the turmoil within their hearts. As the rain battered the windows, a heavy sense of dread filled the air. It was as if nature itself was conspiring against them, forcing them into a place of solitude and isolation. There was no escape, and no answers. 7 Then, as the clock struck midnight, a knock echoed through the house — a sound that seemed too sharp against the silence, too sudden in the midst of the storm. The old couple exchanged uncertain glances. Who could be at the door at this hour? The road to the ir house was treacherous in the best of times, and very few distant relatives had visited them in years. A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. Arvind exchanged a glance with Sumitra before he moved cautiously toward the entrance. As he pulled the heavy wooden door open, a gust of wind barged in, bringing with it a drenched figure, his face obscured by the downpour. "Forgive me for intruding," the man said, brushing water off his sleeves. "The storm is unbearable, and the roads are blocked. I saw the lights and hoped for shelter. My name is Akash Mishra." Akash was in his mid - thirties, tall, well - built, and strikingly handsome. His dark hair was slightly dishevelled from the rain, and his strong jawline gave him an air of authority. Despite the wild weather, there was a certain calmness about him, as though he had encountered many storms in his life — both literal and metaphorical — and always managed to navigate them wi th poise. Sumitra nodded, stepping aside. "Come in. You’ll catch your death out there." Akash entered, shaking off the rain. Arvind closed the door and led him to the dining area, where Sumitra handed him a towel. The warmth of the fire crackled softly as he rubbed his hands together, his eyes scanning the old house. The wooden beams creaked above them, the sound lost in the howling winds outside. "What brings you to this part of the hills?" Arvind asked, offering a steaming cup of tea. "Work," Akash explained, taking a careful sip, his voice smooth and confident. "I’m a business consultant. I was visiting a client nearby when the storm hit. Thought I could make it back to my hotel, but the roads were impossible." He paused, glancing brie fly at Sumitra before continuing. "I travel a lot for work, mostly between cities, helping companies optimize their operations and strategies. My wife... she works in the software industry, so she’s usually at her desk most of the day. I’ve got a four - year - old at home, and 8 we have a nanny who takes care of him. My wife is home every night, so he’s always with her when I’m away." Arvind nodded as he listened, absorbing the details. "That must be quite the busy lifestyle," he remarked, intrigued by the contrast between Akash's traveling job and his wife's more grounded, desk - based work. "It’s a juggling act," Akash said with a small smile, "but we manage. It's not easy, but at least we both get to spend time with our son. Even though my work keeps me traveling, I make sure to be home for the important moments. And my wife... well, her wor k keeps her busy, but she’s there every evening, which is what matters." He leaned back slightly, his gaze flickering briefly to the fire. "That’s the nature of the job. Always moving, always adjusting to new challenges." The conversation shifted, but something about Akash’s calm demeanour and the way he spoke gave off an air of mystery. There was a polished, confident edge to him, but Arvind and Sumitra couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this man than he was letting on. Still, as the night wore on, they allowed him to stay — g rateful for his company, yet aware of the growing unease that lingered, a feeling that had settled ever since the knock at the door. Before the conversation could continue, another knock echoed through the house. Arvind hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A woman , about 30 years old, stood there, shivering in the cold, her hair plastered to her face from the rain. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice unsteady but urgent. “Please... I’m sorry to disturb you, but the storm — I had nowhere else to go.” She shivered, her drenched clothes clinging to her frame. “I was on my way through the village when the rain got wo rse. I didn’t know where to turn. Can I stay here... just until the worst of it passes?” She glanced behind her, as if afraid of something lurking in the darkness. “My name is Meera Saxena.” She, too, was invited inside. Sumitra quickly poured her a cup of tea from flask , and Meera took a seat beside Akash, gratefully warming her hands near the fire. The warmth of the room contrasted starkly with the relentless downpour outside. 9 "So, what brings you out here in this weather?" Arvind asked, offering her a chair. “It’s not exactly the safest road to be traveling on, especially at night.” Meera smiled softly, rubbing her hands together. “I’ve been visiting a few places for my work. I’m a social worker, so I tend to travel quite a bit. I was in the area doing some outreach for a local charity when the storm hit. I was just heading back to No ida, but the roads got blocked.” “Noida, you say?” Sumitra’s voice was light, though her curiosity was piqued. “That’s where your family is?” “Yes, my parents,” Meera replied, her voice becoming a little softer. “I still live with them. I’ve been helping out at a shelter for displaced families. The work keeps me busy, and I’ve never really had the time to settle down.” She hesitated for a moment , as though unsure whether to continue. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice — dedicating myself so fully to work. But it’s what I’ve always done.” “You’re a graduate of Delhi University, aren’t you?” Akash asked, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Meera’s brows furrowed slightly as she looked up from her tea. “Yes... I studied there a few years ago,” she admitted cautiously. “But how do you know that?” Akash smirked, leaning back against his chair. “Oh, it’s easy. DU graduates have a certain... confidence. A way of talking, like they’ve cracked life’s greatest secrets over chai at Sudama Tea Stall.” Meera rolled her eyes. “Right. And what else? You can tell someone’s entire life story by the way they sip tea?” Akash chuckled. “Not quite. But I’m good at observing people. And I happen to remember a little detail — someone once mentioned a Meera Saxena from DU. Smart, ambitious, always juggling multiple things.” His smirk widened. “I guess ‘juggling multiple things’ turned out to be more literal than expected, didn’t it?” 10 Meera’s grip on her cup tightened. She knew exactly what he was implying. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes were sharp. “Funny. I don’t recall being the subject of gossip.” Akash raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Meera. In DU, gossip is more valuable than textbooks. And you? You were an interesting topic.” The room tensed slightly, the unspoken layers between them thickening the air. Meera exhaled slowly, choosing her next words carefully. “I hope you don’t believe everything you hear.” Akash’s smirk didn’t fade. “Not everything. Just the interesting parts.” A charged silence settled between them before Meera finally looked away, pretending to focus on her tea. Sumitra exchanged a quick glance with Arvind, and there was something unspoken between them. The way Meera spoke about her life, so dedicated and selfless, was admirable — yet, it seemed to come with a hint of loneliness, one that they both understood all too well. "So, Ayan mentioned something strange about his work the last time he called," Sumitra said suddenly, breaking the silence. “He mentioned an email he received that didn’t sit right with him. Do you know anything about that?” Akash and Meera exchanged a quick glance, so fleeting that Sumitra almost thought she had imagined it. “Ayan is their son , living in America”, Akash added to the benefit of Meera. The conversation barely had time to resume before yet another knock startled them. This time, when the door creaked open, a tall man in his late forties stood at the threshold, his jacket dripping onto the doorstep. He hesitated for a moment before stepping just inside, careful not to intrude too far. “Apologies for disturbing you at this hour,” he said, his deep voice carrying over the sound of the storm. “I’m Manu Kohli. I was in the area for business — furniture trad e, sourcing wood — but the storm threw my plans off course. The roads are impossible to navigate 11 right now.” He glanced around the warm, dimly lit room before continuing, “Would you mind if I took shelter here for a while? I don’t want to impose, but the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.” Arvind and Sumitra exchanged a quick glance — an unspoken conversation passing between them. Then, Arvind nodded. “Of course, come in. No sense in being out in this weather.” Manu let out a relieved breath, stepping fully inside. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I appreciate the kindness.” He removed his soaked jacket and placed it carefully near the door before turning back to face the room. His sharp eyes swept over his surroundings — not just looking, but assessing. The flickering lantern light cast long shadows, highlighting the wary faces of the people inside. He took in every detail: the tension in the air, the unease in their postures. Som ething about this group wasn’t quite right. But then again, neither was his own sudden arrival. With a polite nod, he took a seat, his presence noticeable but measured. Despite the warmth of the room, there was an air of wariness about him, as if he were both seeking refuge and studying the ground beneath his feet. “You’re in the furniture business?” Akash asked as they all settled into their places. “That’s quite a business to run. How long have you been in it?” “Years,” Manu replied, adjusting his seat and stretching his legs comfortably. His voice carried the weight of experience, of a man who had built something with his own hands. “Started with a single shop. Small place, barely enough to keep the lights on. B ut I know one thing — people will always need furniture. A house, an office, even a hotel — four walls aren’t enough. You need something to sit on, sleep on, eat at.” He smirked, his sharp eyes gleaming. “So, I made sure they bought from me.” Akash nodded, clearly interested. “Smart move. And now?” “Now?” Manu leaned back slightly. “I have a chain of stores across NCR. Custom - made, high - end stuff. People want something unique these days, not mass - produced junk. If 12 you’re paying for a dining table, it better feel like it belongs in a king’s palace, right?” His lips curled in a knowing grin. “And if you convince them that it does, they don’t mind spending a little extra.” Meera, intrigued, nodded. “A chain of stores... impressive. Must keep you busy.” Manu’s smile faded just slightly, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest. “It does,” he admitted. “But I’m not one for too much city life. I prefer Meerut. Business happens in big cities, but peace? That’s in small towns.” His voice took on a slight edge before he masked it with a casual shrug. “You keep your main operations in NCR but stay in Meerut?” Kamlesh observed. “Not many businessmen would make that choice.” Manu chuckled. “That’s because most businessmen like to show off. Fancy offices, big cars, all that nonsense. But I know where the real money is. You don’t need to sit in an air - conditioned tower to make money — you just need to know where the demand is.” He took a slow sip of his tea before continuing. “My sons help me with the stores. The elder one’s married now — he’s got his own thing going, doesn’t need me anymore. The younger one, though... he’s still with me. Runs around handling the business. Good boy Sharp.” Sumitra smiled. “That must be nice — to have him close.” Manu let out a breath, his expression turning distant for a moment. “For now. But once he gets married... well.” He exhaled, rubbing his chin. “They all leave, don’t they? That’s how life works. A man works his whole life building something, thinking his k ids will take it forward. But the truth? Everyone wants to make their own mark. No one wants to run their father’s business forever.” He let his words settle before giving a small chuckle. “I tell you one thing, though — if my younger one leaves, I’ll make sure he buys his furniture from me.” The group chuckled, though the sentiment behind his words wasn’t lost on anyone. Sumitra gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s hard, letting go of those who have been close.” 13 Manu nodded slowly. “It is. But in business, in life — you learn to adapt. Nothing lasts forever.” He glanced around the dimly lit room, his keen eyes taking in everyone’s expressions. “People move on. Things change. The only thing you can do is make sure yo u’re not left behind.” For a moment, no one spoke. Outside, the wind howled, as if agreeing with him. Manu didn’t respond right away. His gaze shifted toward the flickering lantern as a strong gust of wind rattled the windows. He looked momentarily lost in thought, as if the storm outside reflected something deeper inside him — a sense of uncertainty, of thi ngs slipping away that he couldn’t control. The room fell into a quiet lull, the crackling of the fire providing the only sound as they all absorbed the weight of Manu’s words. The storm outside continued to rage on, and the shadows in the room seemed to stretch longer, as if time itself were shifti ng. Time passed, and just as the tension in the room began to ease, another knock echoed through the hall. The door creaked open, revealing a young man, drenched from head to toe, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, off ering a sheepish smile. "Vicky," he introduced himself, slightly out of breath. "Travel blogger. Was on my way to the next stop when the storm hit. My car broke down a few miles back. Figured this was the only place I could find shelter. Mind if I come in?" The old couple had little choice but to welcome him in. They barely had time to get him settled before yet another knock came. The door creaked open, and a weary - looking man stepped inside, dripping from the storm. He pulled off his wet coat, shaking off the cold before glancing around at the unfamiliar faces. "Apologies for the intrusion," he said, his voice calm but edged with exhaustion. "Kamlesh Pandey. I work with the Ministry of Transport, posted in Dehradun. I was visiting nearby small town for some inspection I was heading to Delhi when the storm made it impossible to go any further. Saw the light from the road and hoped to find shelter for the night." 14 He paused, taking in the tense expressions around the room. "I take it I’m not the only one caught in this mess?" By now, the small house was filled with unexpected guests. The thunder outside seemed to have grown louder, echoing through the walls. Sumitra hesitated, knowing they couldn’t prepare a full meal for everyone, but there were leftovers in the refrigerator. She heated what she could and offered tea to all. As they ate, the conversation turned towards their backgrounds, their travel plans, and eventually, the Chaddas’ son. "You live here alone?" Akash asked, stirring his tea slowly. "Yes," Arvind replied, his voice carrying the usual pride of a father speaking about his son. "Our son, Ayan, is in the U.S. Works for Facebook. He’s a computer engineer — brilliant, always good with machines. Earlier, he was working in Bangalore, but he shi fted to the U.S. about six years ago." Sumitra sighed, a faint sadness in her eyes. "He’s almost 40 now. Still unmarried. We want him to settle down, start a family, but..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "You know how it is these days. Careers, independence — kids don’t think about these thi ngs the way we used to. But all parents want the same thing, don’t they? A family. Stability. Someone to come home to." She tightened her grip around her teacup. "We usually talk every weekend, but..." Her voice dropped. "We haven’t heard from him in two weeks." Silence fell over the table. The wind howled outside, and the lantern flames flickered. Kamlesh cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "Strange. Two weeks, you say?" His voice was too casual. Meera sipped her tea, her eyes unreadable. "Maybe he’s just busy." Manu leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Or maybe something happened to him." A crack of thunder masked Sumitra’s sharp inhale. But she had seen it — just for a fleeting second — how three of the strangers had tensed at the mention of Ayan’s name. 15 Akash’s fingers curled slightly around his teacup. Meera’s gaze flickered toward the window, as if suddenly uneasy. Manu let out a breath a little too slow, his expression unreadable. Something was terribly wrong. And as the storm raged outside, it was becoming clear that more than one of these strangers had come here for more than just shelter. And perhaps, Ayan was never coming back home. Bo ok Available fo r Free on Kindle Unlimited : https://www.amazon. com /dp/B0DYNPRZ6V/ 16