The days bled into weeks, and for the first time in a long time, Luv felt something close to peace.
Every morning and night, Komal's voice was in his ear. They called, they texted, sometimes talking until dawn painted the sky. She laughed more these days, and he did everything in his power to keep it that way.
If she wanted to share songs, he listened.
If she wanted to watch movies, they watched together online.
If she wanted to play PUBG, he was her partner — clearing squads, teasing opponents, throwing cheeky challenges at strangers in the lobby.
He learned things he had never bothered to understand before — how humans flirt in subtle ways, how small gestures matter more than grand speeches, how sometimes just staying on the call, saying nothing, can mean everything.
Komal was teaching him, without even realizing it, how to be good person.
And he was becoming the perfect one — for her.
But as the date of her operation drew closer, a tightness began to grow in Luv's chest. He wanted to meet her — no, he needed to.
But he couldn't.
Her parents wouldn't allow it. His parents wouldn't understand. He couldn't tell friends. This meeting was his secret, one the world had no right to interfere with.
That night, sitting in the dim light of his room, he whispered to himself:
"No matter what happens… I'll meet her. Even if I have nothing. No power. No support. No one can stop me."
He recited softly, like a vow written in his blood:
Even with empty hands and broken feet,
I'll walk the storms to where you breathe.
If sky and earth both block my way,
I'll carve a path — come night or day.
The next morning, he told his parents, "I'm going to class."
But his steps never turned toward the school.
He walked toward Komal.
The distance was over sixty kilometers — more than most would even consider on foot. He had no water, no food. He had money, but not the kind he could earn without bad deeds. And for her, he wouldn't stain this day with that.
The sun climbed high. Heat soaked into his skin. The city turned to suburbs, suburbs to lonely roads. Cars passed, but he kept walking.
Hours later, his legs began to ache — a deep, biting pain in the muscles. He pushed on. His mouth dried, his throat scraped like sandpaper. Still, he walked.
By the halfway point, his knees throbbed with every step. His stomach twisted with hunger, his vision shimmered from the heat. But he refused to stop.
I'm mortal now… I can't walk forever. Also If I don't reach home on time, Mom and Dad will punish me.
The thought came and went like a weak breeze. His desperation was stronger. His eyes burned with it.
Every step felt like dragging chains. His legs blistered, his heels raw. The pounding in his head grew sharp — the cruel rhythm of dehydration.
But ahead, somewhere in that direction, was Komal.
And as long as he could still stand, Luv would not stop.
Luv stepped off into a road buzzing with chaos. A collapsed market stall had trapped two children beneath splintered wood. A man lay bleeding beside a motorbike, his breathing shallow and erratic.
His heart told him to run straight to Komal, but his hands moved on instinct — the instinct Komal had nurtured in him. With a whisper of blessings, the wood lifted, pain ebbed, bones knit, and wounds sealed. Every act drained him a little more, each blessing pulling threads from the core of his strength.
By the time he reached the edge of the neighboring district, sweat clung to his temples and his vision swam. He wanted to rest — gods, he needed to — but Komal's last message rang in his mind:
"Luv… come. I want to see you before I have to go through the operation."
The thought of her alone in a sterile white room, lungs failing, kidneys struggling… it made the exhaustion vanish like smoke.
That was when the air changed.
A ripple — faint, but unmistakable — passed through the street. People walking ahead slowed, their shadows bending unnaturally. Luv's gaze sharpened.
They weren't people.
The first figure's smile was too wide, the second's eyes too hollow. Others looked perfectly normal, yet the rhythm of their breath was off, like they were breathing in not air, but the emotions of those around them.
Emotion eaters.
He knew their scent well — the twisted parasites that fed on grief, anger, love… anything that made a soul burn brighter. Before Komal, Luv had been immune to them. He'd never felt anything genuine, never allowed himself to be moved. Emotions had been just… tools. Masks to wear when needed.
But Komal…
Komal had ruined that emptiness. She had taught him warmth. She had made him care.
His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.
"Those fuckers…" the words slipped out like venom. "Why do they keep coming? Do they not value their lives?"
None of them knew who he truly was. None of them realized the abyss they were dancing on the edge of.
He could end them in a single breath — show them what it meant to provoke EL. But he didn't. Not here. Not now. If he revealed himself, the situation would spiral beyond his control.
Still… the fire in his chest burned hotter.
And if they didn't get out of his way…
They'd learn exactly what it meant to stand between him and the one person who had ever made him feel human.