Rain lashed against the open field, turning the dry soil into a mirror of muddy reflections. Kiara's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she stumbled toward the wreck — the silver car flipped on its side, its windshield shattered like glass tears scattered across the ground.
A small crowd had gathered, murmuring, pointing, taking pictures.
"Where's the driver?" someone said.
"Gone when we got here," another replied.
Kiara's heart stuttered violently. Gone?
"No…" she whispered, pushing through them, her dupatta clinging to her soaked shoulders. She peered inside — empty seats, a bloodied scarf, a dented dashboard. The smell of gasoline hung heavy in the air.
The crowd began to disperse, leaving her alone in the rain. Her trembling hands brushed against the cold metal of the door. "Yuvaan," she whispered. "Where are you? Please… please answer me…"
Her knees hit the ground as sobs tore through her chest. The rain mixed with her tears, her voice breaking. "Yuvaan!" she cried again, her scream swallowed by thunder.
And then —
A voice, low and familiar, cut through the storm.
"Sweetheart."
She froze. Slowly, she turned.
There he was — Yuvaan Pratap Singh, standing a few steps away, the rain slicking his dark hair, his shirt clinging to his chest, his eyes burning with that impossible mix of arrogance and tenderness.
Kiara's breath hitched. "Yuvaan…"
Before she could think, she ran to him, crashing into his arms. He caught her, pulling her close, holding her as if he'd been waiting for this moment all his life.
"I thought I lost you," she choked. "I thought—"
He pressed a hand to her cheek, tilting her face up. "You could never lose me," he said, his voice raw. "Not when my heart belongs to you, Kiara."
Her tears mingled with the rain as she looked into his eyes — those same eyes that once infuriated her, teased her, now holding nothing but fierce, aching love.
"I love you, Yuvaan," she confessed, her voice trembling but true. "I tried to deny it, but I can't. Not anymore."
For a moment, the world fell away — the lies, the family, the fear. There was only them.
Yuvaan's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. Then he did something that took her breath away — he dropped to his knees in the mud, rain pounding on his shoulders.
"Then marry me," he said, his voice fierce despite the storm. "Marry me, Kiara. Not Vedant. Me."
Her eyes widened. "Yuvaan, I—"
He cut her off, his words tumbling out like a confession he could no longer contain. "I've had everything in life — money, power, girls — but none of it mattered. Until you. You made me feel… alive. You made me want to be someone better. Don't take that away from me."
He looked up at her, drenched and desperate. "If you walk away now, Kiara, I swear I won't survive it. Not this time."
Her promise to her father echoed in her mind — Marry Vedant, and I will live.
But her heart screamed louder — Yuvaan.
She closed her eyes, trembling. Then, in a single, reckless heartbeat, she sank down and threw her arms around him.
"I can't lose you either," she whispered. "I choose you, Yuvaan."
He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in the rain. The kiss was fire and lightning — desperate, forbidden, and utterly consuming. Around them, the storm raged on, but neither cared.
For that fleeting moment, their world was perfect — a fragile, beautiful curse disguised as love.
The rain fell harder now, a relentless curtain of water washing over the open field. Kiara's lips were still trembling from their kiss when the sound came — a sharp whistle slicing through the downpour.
Then —
THWACK!
An arrow tore through the rain and sank deep into Yuvaan's chest. His body jerked violently. For a heartbeat, there was only silence — the kind that comes before a scream.
"YUVAAN!" Kiara's voice ripped through the storm. Her hands shot forward, catching him as he staggered back, crimson blooming across his shirt, spreading like fire in water.
Another arrow struck — grazing his shoulder this time — and he fell to one knee, his face twisting in pain.
Kiara's eyes widened in horror. She turned — and froze.
Through the veils of rain stood Vikram Shetty and Varun, their expressions grim, unyielding. Bows still drawn, arrows still nocked, their silhouettes framed by lightning.
Her father's voice cut through the thunder, sharp as steel.
"Stay away from my daughter, you warlock."
The word echoed like a curse.
Kiara froze, her mind spinning. "Papa… Varun… what have you done?"
Varun's grip tightened on his bow, his jaw locked. His thoughts flashed back to just minutes ago—he had gone to call Kiara for the engagement ceremony, only to find her room empty. Anya had tried to stop him, fumbling for excuses, but her trembling gave her away.
"Where did she go, Anya?" he had demanded, his tone sharp.
Tears had filled Anya's eyes as she broke down. "She went to meet Yuvaan... please, don't hurt them..."
And now, standing in the rain, Varun's heart pounded with the weight of his father's command and his sister's betrayal.