The golden sunlight slanted through the silk curtains, casting soft shadows across the marble floor. Meera was seated cross-legged on the plush rug, flipping through a few campaign drafts from AR Enterprises on her iPad. Rizwan walked in, unusually tense, holding his phone and a folder.
Meera (without looking up):
"You're late. And this iced coffee is lukewarm. You're fired."
Rizwan (flatly):
"Can't fire me if I'm protecting your life."
She looked up sharply.
Meera:
"Drama much?"
Rizwan (sitting beside her):
"Someone's been trying to contact me for the past month. Every single day. Insisting on meeting you. Says it's a matter of life and death."
Her gaze narrowed. She set the iPad down.
Meera:
"Who?"
Rizwan:
"He won't say. All I know is—he knows your schedule. Every move. He's been following you—quietly. Carefully. Never crossed a line, but… persistent."
Meera (half-laughs):
"Rizwan, who the hell would want to meet me like that? I'm a model, not MI6."
Rizwan (softly):
"Maybe it's personal. Maybe it's from… your past."
A long silence followed.
Rizwan (cautiously):
"Should we tell Abhimanyu?"
Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unblinking.
Meera:
"If Abhimanyu finds out someone's been stalking me and calling it 'life or death'… then it will become a matter of death. His rage has no middle gear—you know that."
Rizwan (hesitant):
"So? What do we do?"
She took a deep breath, leaned back against the bedframe, and closed her eyes for a moment.
Meera:
"If he's been trying every day for a month… maybe there's something there. Set up a meeting. Discreet. Somewhere quiet. Just us two."
Rizwan (nodding slowly):
"Not a word to Mr. Rajput?"
Meera (opening one eye):
"Not a syllable. I want to meet this ghost first."
A Secluded Restaurant in Jaipur
The restaurant was dimly lit, tucked away in a quiet lane — the kind of place where no one asked questions and no one looked twice.
Meera walked in with measured steps, her sunglasses hiding more than just tiredness. Rizwan held the door open, silent and watchful.
As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she stopped.
There, at the far end, in a secluded booth, sat Suryaveer Uncle — her father's most loyal companion. Age had softened him, but his eyes were still sharp… and now, heavy with something unsaid.
A lump rose in her throat.
Without a word, she walked straight to him. No guards, no entourage — just the girl who once hid behind his legs when her father raised his voice.
Meera (softly):
"Suryaveer uncle…"
He stood instantly. One look at her and the years melted. She stepped into his arms — a tight, trembling hug — like trying to hold on to a piece of the past that hadn't betrayed her.
They sat.
There was no waiter. No menus. This meeting wasn't supposed to happen.
Suryaveer (sternly, after a beat):
"Is Abhimanyu… treating you right?"
Meera froze.
She tried to mask her expression, but he caught it. His tone turned sharper, more fatherly.
Suryaveer:
"Meera. I knew your father better than anyone. I also know what passed between him and Abhimanyu before… before it all went to hell."
She swallowed hard.
Meera (quietly):
"He's… trying. He's not perfect, but… he's trying."
Suryaveer didn't smile. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Suryaveer:
"Then you deserve to know something."
She looked up.
Suryaveer:
"Your father did not kill Abhimanyu's parents."
Everything inside her stilled.
Suryaveer (low and deliberate):
"He was there that night, yes. But he wasn't their murderer. He was trying to save them. Someone else set him up — someone powerful, and dangerous. But Abhimanyu… he never knew the full truth. And he's been blinded by rage ever since."
Silence. The kind that feels like thunder after a lightning strike.
Meera:
"What are you saying…?"
But she already knew. Her eyes shimmered, wide and searching — not with disbelief, but pain.
Because Suryaveer Uncle would never lie. Not to her.
He reached across the table, gently covering her trembling hand.
Suryaveer:
"You have every right to love your husband, Meera. But don't build your world on lies. Your father didn't deserve that end."
She couldn't speak.
The walls around her heart, the ones she had rebuilt brick by brick after her father's death — they cracked again.
She looked at him, her voice barely a whisper.
Then why weren't you there…?"
Her voice cracked. "At Papa's funeral. Why didn't you come? You vanished. Everyone kept asking."
Suryaveer looked at her — really looked — with eyes heavy from too many nights spent hiding, running, surviving.
Suryaveer (quietly):
"Because I'm not safe, Meera. Because of your husband."
Meera's breath caught.
Suryaveer:
"Abhimanyu has been looking for me ever since the night your father died. He's hunted me through cities, countries — I've had to change my name, my number, everything. He's convinced I know something… and he's right."
Meera blinked, her throat dry.
Suryaveer (soft but firm):
"I didn't come to the funeral because if I had… I wouldn't have walked out alive."
A pause.
Then he leaned in, the weight of months pressing into his next words.
Suryaveer:
"But the moment I heard you'd married him… I knew I had to speak to you. I've been trying to reach you since the day you left for Finland. One whole month, Meera. Every day, I begged Rizwan to arrange a meeting. No replies. No access. Nothing."
He sighed, rubbing his weathered palms together.
Suryaveer:
"I thought I'd lost my only chance."
Meera stared down at the table, her mind spinning, everything she knew — or thought she knew — shifting under her.
Her voice was hollow when it came out.
Meera:
"Why now?"
Suryaveer:
"Because if there's even a sliver of your father's blood in you, Meera… then I know you won't rest until you uncover the truth."
Meera's fingers tightened around the edge of the table, still reeling from Suryaveer's words. The clink of cutlery, the muted hum of conversation around them… all felt strangely distant.
Then — the restaurant's glass door swung open with a force that made heads turn.
Two tall men in black stepped in first, their eyes scanning the room like a radar. The air shifted. Conversations dipped into silence.
And then he walked in.
Abhimanyu Rajput.
But not the man she had left at the breakfast table this morning.
This Abhimanyu radiated something else entirely — something dangerous.
His jaw was locked, eyes cold and sharp enough to slice through steel. His stride was unhurried, but every step carried a weight that made even strangers instinctively sit straighter.
Meera froze. In all the weeks she'd known him — the fights, the silences, the sharp words — she had never seen this version of him.
Anger wasn't the right word.
This was controlled fury.
Suryaveer's back stiffened. His eyes darted towards the side exit, but it was too late — Abhimanyu's gaze had already found them.
And when those eyes locked on her…
It felt like the whole restaurant had stopped breathing.