The priest bestowed a warm, knowing blessing upon them. To Bhoomi, he gave a simple red sacred thread. "Tie this for your son," he said gently. "It will protect him."
Bhoomi clutched the thread as if it were a priceless treasure, her eyes shining with excitement and purpose. "For my Yuvi," she whispered.
Kiara, her own heart feeling strangely light, offered, "Auntie, let me drop you home."
But Bhoomi, in a moment of childlike glee, pointed towards a bustling street stall. "Beta, can we have golgappa first? I love them."
How could Kiara refuse? She laughed, a genuine, happy sound. "Of course we can!"
They sat at the modest stall, the queen of the Pratap Singh mansion and the Reeva heiress, sharing plates of tangy, spicy golgappa. Between delighted bites, they finally introduced themselves properly, a simple, human connection forming over the shared joy of street food. They were no longer a helper and a lost woman; they were Kiara and Bhoomi Aunty, friends.
It was in this moment of simple happiness, away from the temple's protective aura, that Yuvaan's power finally found its anchor.
His sleek car screeched to a halt at the curb. The door flew open and he rushed out, his face a mask of frantic relief. He didn't even notice Kiara at first. His entire world narrowed to his mother.
"Mom!" he breathed, pulling her into a tight, desperate hug. "Where were you? I was so worried. Don't ever do that again." His voice was raw with an emotion Kiara had never heard from him—pure, unfiltered vulnerability.
It was only then that he looked up and saw Kiara, her eyes wide with shock and dawning understanding.
Bhoomi, oblivious to the tension, beamed. "Yuvi! Look! This is my new friend, Kiara. She helped me pray for you! And look, I got this for you!" She proudly showed him the sacred thread.
Yuvaan's gaze shifted from his mother's joyful face to Kiara's stunned one. The formidable, smirking villain had vanished. In his place was just a son, relieved and exposed. And in that unguarded moment, Kiara didn't just see the boy who infuriated and fascinated her—she saw a man whose entire world was his mother, and her heart did something entirely unexpected: it softened.
---
Yuvaan's gaze finally settled on Kiara, the frantic worry in his eyes shifting to stunned confusion. "Kiara? You… you are here?"
Kiara, her own heart still processing the scene, managed a small smile. "I was driving and almost… well, I met Bhoomi Aunty. She was lost, trying to find the temple. I took her."
Bhoomi, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents, tugged at Yuvaan's sleeve, her eyes pleading. "Yuvi, beta, see? This is for you. The priest gave it. For protection." She held out the sacred red thread, but her hands trembled too much to tie it. "My hands… Kiara, beta, please. You tie it for him."
A flicker of primal fear shot through Yuvaan. A sacred object, blessed within a temple, was anathema to his very essence. It should burn him, reject him. He couldn't wear it. But he looked at his mother's hopeful, fragile face, and the refusal died in his throat. He couldn't shatter her faith.
His eyes met Kiara's, a silent, desperate plea and a warning warring within them.
Kiara, sensing his strange hesitation but seeing only a son humoring his unwell mother, took the thread. As her fingers brushed the sacred cotton, a wave of warmth, fierce and pure, shot up her arm. Unseen beneath her clothes, the Trident mark on her back flared with a sudden, brilliant gold, responding to the holy energy she now held.
Holding her breath, Kiara reached for Yuvaan's wrist. He flinched instinctively, bracing for searing pain. But as her fingers, charged with her own latent divinity, touched his skin and began to loop the thread, nothing happened.
No burn. No shock. No rejection.
The holy thread rested against his skin, harmless. A perfect, impossible circle.
Yuvaan stared at his wrist, then his gaze snapped up to lock with Kiara's. His shock mirrored her own. In that electrifying silence, a thousand unspoken questions passed between them. How? Why? The thread should have destroyed him, but in her hands, it had become inert, a simple string. It was as if her very touch had sanctified him, or perhaps, her presence had neutralized the object's power.
The world around them—the noisy street, the bustling stall, even his beloved mother—faded away. In that moment, there was only the thread, her touch, and the earth-shattering realization that the rules of their opposing worlds did not seem to apply when they were together.
Bhoomi, her eyes sparkling with a simple, profound joy, looked from her son to the kind girl who had helped her. The sacred thread was safely tied around Yuvaan's wrist, a task she believed had been blessed by the gods themselves.
"You look so good together," Bhoomi declared with the innocent, unfiltered honesty of her condition.
Kiara's cheeks flushed a deep, warm red. The statement, coming from Yuvaan's mother, felt more significant than any teasing from her friends. "I... I should be going now, Bhoomi Aunty," she stammered, flustered. She bowed her head slightly in a gesture of respect, about to seek the older woman's blessings before leaving.
But Bhoomi would have none of it. She stepped forward, her arms open wide. "A hug, beta. Give me a hug before you go."
Kiara's heart melted. She stepped into the embrace, hugging the woman who radiated such pure, maternal love despite her own struggles. It was a tender, heartfelt moment.
As Kiara pulled away and turned to walk to her car, a hand caught hers. She turned to find Yuvaan holding her wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. The usual arrogance was gone from his eyes, replaced by a sincerity that stole her breath.
"Thank you, Kiara," he said, his voice low and earnest. "For everything today. For helping her."
Her blush deepened, but she met his gaze steadily. "You're welcome," she replied softly.
With a final, lingering look, he released her hand. Kiara got into her car and drove off, but in the rearview mirror, she saw him still standing there, his eyes fixed on her departing car, the sacred thread visible on his wrist. The infuriating villain was gone, replaced by a complex, vulnerable man—and that was far more dangerous to her heart.