Ranvijay — Not a Search, a Sentence
Rain did not slow him.
The address was already burned into his mind.
The place where ghosts lived.
The place he had sworn never to return.
Ranvijay drove without haste.
No calls.
No orders.
No questions.
Because this wasn't a search.
It was a conclusion.
The warehouse lights were on when he arrived. Men stood outside, armed, alert—but none of them dared stop him. Something in his eyes warned them that tonight, death was not a threat. It was a promise.
Inside, Aditya waited.
Relaxed. Smiling. As if this meeting had always been inevitable.
"You came alone," Aditya said lightly.
Ranvijay didn't respond.
He took off his watch and placed it on the table.
The sound echoed.
"That's good," Aditya continued. "Means you're ready to talk."
Ranvijay stepped forward.
"You spoke to her," he said calmly.
Aditya's smile widened.
"I spoke the truth. Or at least… the version she was ready to believe."
That was when Ranvijay moved.
The punch came without warning—brutal, precise. Aditya crashed into the wall, gasping. Before he could recover, Ranvijay grabbed him again, slamming him onto the floor.
Men rushed forward.
One look at Ranvijay—and they stopped.
Because this man wasn't fighting.
He was executing rage.
"You used her memories," Ranvijay said, gripping Aditya's collar.
"You turned her pain into a weapon."
Aditya coughed, blood staining his teeth.
"And you hid the truth," he sneered.
"Which makes you just as guilty."
Ranvijay's jaw tightened.
"I hid it," he said, voice dangerously soft,
"because if she ever learns what really happened—she won't hate me."
His grip tightened.
"She'll hate herself."
For the first time, Aditya's eyes flickered.
"You think you're her savior?" Aditya mocked.
"You caged her. Loved her. Possessed her."
Ranvijay leaned closer.
"I kept her alive," he whispered.
"While you were waiting for the right moment to destroy her."
His fist came down again.
And again.
And again.
Each blow wasn't anger.
It was punishment.
---
Meanwhile — Palace, Myra
Myra lay awake now.
Not screaming.
Not crying.
Just staring at the ceiling, Rajeshwari's words echoing inside her chest.
Some truths are meant to be revealed only when the heart is strong enough to survive them.
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet.
If he didn't do it…
Then why does it feel like he broke me anyway?
Her heart ached with something far worse than hatred.
Confusion.
And somewhere in the city, Ranvijay raised his bloodied hand one last time—
unaware that the truth he was protecting
was already beginning to crack its way into Myra's soul.
Two Battles, One Truth
The palace room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Myra lay still, her body resting, her soul anything but. Rajeshwari's words sat inside her like embers that refused to die.
He loved you before he knew how to love himself.
You were not his obsession, Myra. You were his salvation.
Myra turned her face toward the window. Rain traced long, trembling lines down the glass, as if the sky itself was unsure how to hold its grief.
"If he loved me…" her voice broke into the silence, barely a whisper,
"then why does loving him hurt this much?"
Rajeshwari had not answered immediately.
She had only taken Myra's hand and pressed it against her own chest.
"Because some men protect the truth the same way warriors protect a kingdom," she had said softly.
"By letting themselves be ruined first."
Myra's chest tightened.
Ruined.
Her mind betrayed her then—images flooding back without permission.
Ranvijay kneeling in the rain.
His forehead pressed to hers.
His voice trembling when he said he would vanish if she asked.
If you want me gone… I will disappear.
Her throat burned.
"What if," she whispered now, alone,
"what if he was never afraid of me hating him…"
Her fingers clenched into the bedsheet.
"What if he was afraid of what I would become if I knew?"
The thought made her stomach twist.
---
Ranvijay's shirt was torn now.
Blood—his and others'—stained the concrete floor.
Aditya's men circled him like wolves, weapons raised, breaths heavy. One lunged forward.
Ranvijay blocked the knife with his bare arm.
Pain flared.
He didn't flinch.
Another came from behind—he grabbed the man's wrist, twisted until bone snapped, then slammed his head into the wall.
He was alone.
Outnumbered.
But none of them fought like a man with nothing left to lose.
Every strike was fueled by one thought—
She looked at me like I murdered her.
A blow landed against his ribs.
Another across his shoulder.
He staggered.
Then straightened.
"Move," he growled.
None did.
So he moved instead.
Fists.
Blood.
Grunts of pain.
He fought like a man whose heart had already been torn out.
Let this body endure what it wants.
She must never carry this truth.
---
Myra pushed herself upright.
Her head spun, but she didn't lie back down.
Rajeshwari's final words echoed again, clearer now, sharper.
If Ranvijay ever tells you the truth…
It will not destroy him, Myra.
It will destroy you.
Myra pressed her palm to her chest.
"No…" she whispered.
"That's not love."
But her heart answered her cruelly—
Then why does it feel like he died every time you doubted him?
Her eyes filled again.
She remembered how he looked at her when she was injured.
How his hands shook when he touched her.
How his voice broke when she said she hated him.
"Why did you kneel for me…" she murmured, tears slipping free.
"Why did you beg me to trust you… if you were lying?"
The room felt smaller.
Heavy.
Like the truth was pressing in from all sides.
---
Warehouse — A Man Standing Alone
Ranvijay was on one knee now.
Blood dripped from his jaw.
Aditya's men hesitated again.
One of them laughed nervously. "He's done."
Ranvijay looked up.
Slowly.
"No," he said hoarsely.
"I'm not."
He pushed himself up.
Pain screamed through every muscle.
But he stood.
Because somewhere, in a palace soaked in rain and doubt, Myra was breathing—
And as long as she breathed,
He would endure every blade meant for her