Aarav knew the rules of his world.
Feel nothing. Trust no one. Survive.
But rules become fragile when emotions enter the battlefield.
Two days had passed since Meera left his apartment. Two days of silence. Two days of pretending her words didn't echo in his mind.
You don't have to fight alone.
He was training when he sensed it — eyes on him again.
Different location. Same black car.
They weren't hiding anymore.
That night, against his better judgment, he sent a single message.
Are you safe?
Three dots appeared instantly.
Yes. Why wouldn't I be?
He didn't reply.
Instead, he walked through the quiet streets toward the small dance studio she had mentioned. He told himself it was to make sure she wasn't being followed.
Nothing more.
Inside the studio, soft music played. Warm lights replaced the darkness he was used to.
Meera was alone, practicing.
Her movements were graceful. Free. Every spin, every step felt like she belonged to a different universe — one untouched by blood and crime.
She noticed him through the mirror.
"You came," she said softly.
"I was nearby."
"That's a lie."
He didn't argue.
For a few minutes, he just watched her dance. No violence. No shouting crowds. Just rhythm.
"You're not what people think you are," she said gently.
"You don't know what people think."
"I know what I see."
Before he could respond, his phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Final warning.
At the same time, across the city, Rudra Khanna stood in his office.
"Prepare the men," he ordered calmly. "If the boy chooses love… he chooses death."
Aarav looked at Meera — smiling, unaware.
For the first time in years, he felt fear.
Not for himself.
For her.