The hospital doors slid shut behind Kiara, sealing her into a world that had gone gray and silent. The antiseptic smell clung to her, a sickening reminder of the sterile room where her future had been murdered.
She walked. One foot in front of the other. Aimless. Numb.
Her mind was a shattered mirror, reflecting the same horrific images over and over: the bottle in her father's hand, the cascade of white pills, the terrible, choking sound he made as he fell, the beeping of the machines, his hollow, ultimatum-giving eyes.
"Marry him... and I will get treated."
"Okay."
The word echoed in the hollowed-out cavern of her soul. She had signed her life away. Traded every dream, every flutter of her heart for Yuvaan, for the simple, desperate hope of hearing her father's voice again.
Tears she didn't even feel began to stream down her face, a silent river of grief for the life she had just lost. She didn't notice the traffic light change. She didn't hear the blaring horn.
A strong hand grabbed her arm, yanking her back onto the curb with such force she stumbled. A delivery bike whizzed past, the wind whipping her hair.
"Are you out of your mind?!" a sharp, familiar voice demanded.
Kiara looked up, her vision blurred by tears. It was that girl from college. Mishka. The one who was always so quiet, so observant.
"Am I okay?" Kiara repeated, her voice a hollow, broken thing. A laugh that was more of a sob escaped her. "No. I'm not okay." Her composure, the last fragile shield she had, shattered completely. "I'm totally... not... okay."
And then, she did something she would never have done otherwise. She fell forward, collapsing into the arms of this practical stranger, her body wracked with violent, uncontrollable sobs. She clung to Mishka as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had just crumbled to dust.
Mishka held her, her own heart a conflicted storm of pity and grim understanding. She held the cousin she could not acknowledge, the pawn in a game she was sworn to help orchestrate, and felt the devastating human cost of their war.
Kiara wiped her tears with trembling fingers, forcing her breathing to steady. "I'm really sorry," she murmured, stepping back from Mishka's comforting arms.
"It's okay," Mishka said softly, her gaze steady but unreadable.
Kiara took a shaky breath, brushing her hair back. "What's the time?"
Mishka checked her phone. "Three fifty-nine."
Kiara froze. "Oh no… I have someone to meet."
Before Mishka could say anything, Kiara was already walking away, her pace quick, almost desperate.
Mishka watched her go, her expression shadowed. "I know whom you're going to meet," she whispered to the empty street.
---
The café was quiet, tucked between rows of blooming jacarandas. Through the glass, Yuvaan sat waiting, one hand lazily stirring his coffee, his phone untouched. The moment Kiara stepped inside, his lips curved into that familiar, dangerous smile. He lifted his hand and waved casually.
"You're late," he said as she sat down across from him. "I've been waiting quite a while. I thought you were eager to meet me… just as much as I was."
Kiara managed a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Unfortunately," she began, voice steady but hollow, "this is the last time we'll be meeting privately."
Yuvaan tilted his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Last time? Don't you mean we're taking our relationship to the next level—meeting the families, perhaps?"
"No," Kiara interrupted gently. "I mean this is the end. We can't meet again."
The playful glint vanished. Yuvaan leaned forward, his voice low. "Are you… scared? Do you doubt my love for you?"
Kiara looked down at her hands, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. "I don't know about love anymore. I just know that our journey ends here… before it could even start."
Yuvaan's expression hardened. "Why?"
"Because I'm getting married," she whispered.
For a heartbeat, silence swallowed the café. Even the soft clink of cups seemed to fade.
Yuvaan's fingers froze around his coffee mug. "You're what?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Kiara stood, blinking back tears. "In a few days. So… we have to part ways. I pray you find someone who truly loves you."
She turned, walking toward the door. As she stepped out into the open street, the sky broke into a sudden downpour. Raindrops blurred her vision, mingling with her tears as flashes of memory assaulted her—their first kiss beneath the mistletoe at the Lalwani Gala, the passionate kiss in the library, the night he shielded her from the crows with that unearthly power.
Just as she reached the edge of the street, a firm hand caught hers, spinning her around.
Yuvaan stood there in the rain, his eyes burning with something dark and wounded. "Do you truly want to get married?" he demanded.
Kiara's lips trembled. "What I want doesn't matter. I made a promise to someone… very important. And I can't break it."
She pulled her hand free, her voice barely above a whisper. "Goodbye, Yuvaan."
Then she turned and walked away, her silhouette dissolving into the curtain of rain.
Yuvaan stood still for a moment, drenched, his jaw tightening. Slowly, a cold, dangerous smile curved his lips. He ran a hand through his wet hair and exhaled, a low chuckle escaping him.
"I thought today would be the day I'd move our relationship to the next phase of my plan," he muttered to himself. "But instead… she came to end it." His grin widened, twisted and wicked. "This is bad. Very bad."
He looked up at the darkening sky, his eyes glinting with menace. "And I like bad."
A beat passed.
"I won't let you get married, Kiara Shetty. Not to anyone but me."