Somewhere, distorted male voices echoed through the haze—
"Ayaan Ranade. Dev Kollari. There is a possibility of a bomb blast on the final day of the singing competition."
Another voice interjected—firm and unmistakable.
"Captain Rathore…"
"I know," the voice responded. "But remember my first lesson—balance the bond and the mission…"
A sinister chuckle followed.
"I thought I lured that son of loser's henchmen… but never expected her. What was her name? Oh, Anaya's friend—"
A whisper, her own voice:
"Stop…"
"Take this gun—"
"Stop..."
"Oh no… no bullets—"
"STOP!"
---
Riya bolted upright, drenched in sweat.
"What happened to you, Riya?!" came Pooja's concerned voice.
"Wake up, Riya," Sneha added. "Just like Anaya yesterday, you're having bad dreams now?"
Another familiar tease—Anaya's voice, sweet and smug:
"Pooja, Sneha… let me check her forehead. Riya, wake up. Or else... your Dev might kiss you."
"IT'S BETTER TO DIE THAN BE KISSED BY THAT PERVERT!" Riya shouted instinctively.
She blinked. Three girls stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
Pooja cocked a brow.
"What's going on with you people? Yesterday it was Anaya, now you. Why do my roommates all have brain issues?"
Anaya chuckled behind her hand, lips curled in amusement.
Sneha leaned in.
"Wait. Anaya… yesterday, in the hospital… did Ayaan really kiss you?"
Anaya blushed faintly but smirked.
"Yes… but no. He gave me special medicine."
She remember A kiss from ayaan on the forehead, and then… she kissing back on ayaan lips as Her first kiss
Riya groaned, trying to block out the memory of the Dev–Ayaan–Rathore conversation echoing in her head.
She muttered:
"Anaya… you still want to go to the finals?"
Anaya answered without pause.
"Absolutely. I'll go."
Riya hesitated.
"The thing is… I heard Ay—"
Her phone buzzed.
She picked up with a sleepy tone:
"Hi Mom. Good morning…"
One minute later…
"MOM! I ALREADY TOLD YOU—NO BLIND DATES OR ARRANGED MARRIAGE!"
She cut the call and stormed toward the bathroom.
From outside, Anaya called out:
"Another arranged marriage?"
Riya shouted back from inside:
"Yeah! My mom's friend's son this time. I'm supposed to meet him at a café!"
Anaya teased:
"Ooooh… it's happening! I'll be there to see you marry D—"
Riya emerged quickly, towel on her head.
"MARRY WHO?! And why are you so excited about my marriage? You already have that Ayaan, so what about your wedding, huh?"
Anaya flipped her hair proudly.
"I already know my wedding date. It's next year. And yours is in just a few mont—"
"Riya, where are the scooty keys?" Pooja interrupted, walking over to her handbag.
Riya's eyes widened.
"DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!" she snapped, rushing to grab the bag.
Everyone froze.
Pooja blinked.
"Whoa. Okay, relax. What are you hiding? A love letter from Dev?"
Anaya leaned in, devilish grin forming.
"Aww... maybe it's her first 'D.E.V.' letter…"
"Stop it…" Riya muttered, grinning despite herself.
But as she held her bag tight—
She remembered.
The gun.Given by Rathore.Still in her bag.
And no one knew.
-----
"Are you really sure you wanna wear your least favorite dress?" Sneha asked, squinting at Riya with raised brows.
"Why not?" Riya rolled her eyes. "It's just some stranger. If my mom hadn't guilt-tripped me, I wouldn't even be going."
Anaya twirled in front of the mirror, then gave Riya a sideways glance.
"What if your least favorite dress becomes his favorite?"
"Then I'll pity him," Riya muttered. Then she noticed Anaya's outfit—flawless, vibrant. "Wait. Why are you dressed like that? This is my awkward blind date, not your dare with destiny."
Anaya gave a slow, mischievous smirk.
"Guess."
Riya narrowed her eyes.
"No… don't tell me. You're coming too? It's MY blind date, not your side quest!"
Anaya grinned but didn't deny it.
Sneha, now at the hostel window, suddenly called out:
"Guys. Look. It's Ajay. He's still hanging around… even after your public rejection, Anaya."
Everyone turned.
Down below, Ajay's car sat parked with tinted windows—his presence unmistakable.
Riya's thoughts went dark. Rathore's voice echoed in her mind:
"If that son of a loser does anything… shoot him without hesitation."
Pooja asked nervously,
"Anaya… what should we do?"
Anaya's tone was ice.
"Ignore that son of a loser."
Riya blinked.
Wait. How did Anaya know Ajay was the son of…?
She was just about to ask—
"Alright," Pooja interrupted. "You all remember the plan, right? Like last time—we're gonna make sure this blind date is an absolute disaster."
Anaya, Riya, and Sneha all chimed together:
"Got it."
Moments later, the four of them piled into a taxi, barely holding their laughter as they finalized their "operation."
The engine purred to life.
But as the vehicle began to pull away, Anaya turned her head and looked directly at Ajay through the window.
Their eyes locked.
And then… she gave him that look—a slow, cold stare full of mockery, disgust, and absolute dismissal.
Ajay's teeth clenched.
His fingers curled around the steering wheel.
The moment their cab disappeared around the corner—
Ajay slammed his car door shut and started the engine.
He was going to follow them.
-----
The taxi stopped outside the café.
The moment Riya stepped in, a manicured hand gently fell over hers.
"Riya, my dear! It's me—your Padma auntie! You look so beautiful."
The girls blinked as they turned toward the well-dressed woman—draped in expensive jewelry, glowing makeup, and the unmistakable aura of someone who took matchmaking very seriously.
Padma beamed.
"You've grown so much!" She glanced at the others.
"Ohhh… and these must be your lovely friends?"
Pooja leaned in to Sneha and whispered:
"Change of plan. We're going bigger this time."
Padma clapped her hands and ushered them all to the table.
"Come, come—sit! I reserved this entire section."
Everyone awkwardly shuffled into seats.
Riya, attempting diplomacy through her awkwardness, leaned in:
"Padma auntie… um… about the blind date—"
"Ah yes!" Padma cut her off, smiling.
"You're waiting for my son, aren't you? He always arrives with his best friend. Oh—there they are!"
All heads turned to the entrance.
A bike pulled up outside.
Ayaan and Dev.
The door opened. They stepped inside.
Riya, Pooja, and Sneha shot to their feet simultaneously, frozen mid-thought.
Dev entered casually, then stopped dead as he spotted his mother… sitting with Riya.
And next to her… Pooja.
And Sneha.
And—
"…Anaya?"
Meanwhile, Anaya's eyes met Ayaan's.
Ayaan's gaze locked with hers, blinking in disbelief.
Why is she here?
Why does this feel like the world paused around us?
Time slowed.
The café faded.
In that moment, it was just Ayaan and Anaya, staring across from opposite ends of fate.
Until Dev broke the silence—
"MOM! Your friend's daughter is Riya?! She's the one I'm on a blind date with?!"
Dev's mother , Padma tilted her head innocently.
"Yes? Is there a problem?"
----
Far away from the laughter of the café, the heavy roar of a military truck echoed through a secured perimeter.
The truck came to a halt in front of a secluded bunker.
Soldiers dismounted, their boots crunching against gravel. They began unloading crates marked with the old insignia—a shield symbol, dulled with dust and age.
One soldier approached the officer waiting nearby, snapping to attention.
"Captain Rathore. As per President Aditya's orders, we've delivered the shipment."
Rathore said nothing.
He walked slowly toward the crates, every step echoing more than just weight—but memory.
One of the boxes creaked open.
Inside—old, restored weapons. Armour fragments. An era forgotten by many… but never erased.
Rathore knelt beside one specific crate. His fingers hovered over a familiar insignia—a faded shield symbol, etched into the steel.
His hand trembled.
A breath caught in his throat.
"I don't deserve to touch you…" he whispered, voice heavy with guilt.
He lingered there for a moment. Then turned his gaze toward a longer case nearby.
He opened it slowly.
Inside—a sniper rifle, sleek and preserved. The barrel shimmered faintly in the dim light, and on it, carved into steel—the crest of Shield.
Rathore placed his hand on the weapon, gripping it with reverence.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a folded profile sheet, and unfolded it slowly.
A familiar face stared back at him.
Ayaan Ranade.
A soft exhale. No smile. Just the weight of old memories meeting a new future.
"…It's time to serve your new master."
He lifted the sniper from its case, no longer for himself, but for the boy unknowingly stepping into the storm.