The first light of morning crept through the silk curtains of the Pratap Singh mansion, its golden hue spilling across the polished marble floors. Somewhere in that stillness, Kiara stirred.
Her lashes fluttered open, and instinctively — the first word that escaped her trembling lips was—
"Yuvaan…"
Her heart raced as fragments of memory flooded back — the cliff, the river, his bleeding chest, his eyes fading — and her desperate dance beneath the storm.
She sat up quickly, her breath shaky. The room was quiet — empty.
The space beside her on the bed was cold.
"Yuvaan?" she called again, voice soft yet trembling.
No answer.
She threw the blanket aside, ignoring the ache in her limbs, and rushed out of the room, barefoot. Her anklets chimed against the silence as she descended the staircase—
But just as she reached the last step, she froze.
There he was.
Yuvaan was climbing the stairs from the main hall — his dark shirt slightly unbuttoned, his expression unreadable. The early sunlight caught the faint scar on his neck — a reminder of the wound that should've ended him.
When his gaze lifted, it found hers instantly — like two souls colliding midair.
Neither spoke, but the space between them crackled with memory.
Kiara saw flashes — Yuvaan shielding her from the bottle's blow, the dagger piercing his back, his lifeless body sinking beneath the river.
Yuvaan, on the other hand, saw her leaping after him without hesitation, her hands pulling him from death, her tears falling onto his chest — and life returning to him.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to slow — the world dimmed, leaving only them standing in the golden wash of morning light.
Then Kiara's restraint shattered.
She rushed forward — and before Yuvaan could react, she threw her arms around him.
Her voice broke. "You could've died… You almost did, Yuvaan!"
For a second, Yuvaan stood frozen — his hands half-raised in surprise. No one had ever embraced him like that, not out of duty or fear, but with pure, terrified relief.
Then, almost involuntarily, his arms came down — strong, protective — wrapping around her.
He closed his eyes, feeling a strange calm settle inside him, a warmth he hadn't known since before he became what he was.
The storm within him quieted — her heartbeat against his chest syncing with his own.
Kiara whispered against him, her voice trembling, "I thought I lost you…"
Yuvaan's lips curved faintly, his usual arrogance replaced by something softer. "You did bring me back, didn't you?" he murmured. "Guess even death listens when you speak."
Kiara pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. "Don't joke about it. You scared me."
Yuvaan smiled faintly — not the smirk of a warlock king, but the smile of a man who, for once, didn't feel cursed.
"Then I suppose," he said quietly, "I owe you my life, Mrs. Pratap Singh."
Their eyes lingered — words unsaid hanging between them like invisible threads.
From the corridor upstairs, Chandrika came walking slowly, her shawl draped over her shoulders, calling softly, "Kiara beti?"
Before she could step further, she stopped.
Below her on the staircase, she saw Kiara standing in Yuvaan's embrace — the young girl clinging to him as though letting go would steal her breath away. Yuvaan's arms rested around her, protective and strangely tender for someone who usually lived in shadows and silences.
The sight made Chandrika's heart tighten.
She had raised Yuvaan since he was a child after coming to stay with the family from her ancestral mansion in the village— rebellious, moody, but good-hearted deep inside. Yet, lately, his eyes had changed. He carried something in them — a darkness she couldn't name, a distance she couldn't reach.
But here, right now, that darkness seemed… gone.
The way Kiara held him, the way Yuvaan bent his head slightly as if afraid she'd break — it wasn't duty. It wasn't pretense.
It was real.
For a long moment, Chandrika simply watched — the faintest tear glimmering in her wrinkled eyes.
Then, quietly, she turned back, giving them their moment.
"Maybe this girl," she whispered under her breath, "was sent by Bholenath himself… to bring peace to my Yuvaan."
Downstairs, Kiara finally loosened her hold, blinking back tears. "You scared me, Yuvaan," she said softly.
He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. "You scare me too," he murmured.
Kiara frowned. "How?"
"Because every time I look at you," Yuvaan said quietly, "I start forgetting who I am."
Kiara's breath caught — but before she could respond, Susheela's sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Yuvaan! Kiara! What's going on here?"
The spell broke instantly. Kiara stepped back, flustered, while Yuvaan's usual smirk returned — his mask slipping back in place.
"Nothing for you to care about, chachi," he said coolly. "Just a husband checking if his wife's still alive after risking her life for him."
Susheela frowned suspiciously, muttering something under her breath, but Chandrika descended the stairs gently, interrupting.
"Let it be, Susheela. They've been through enough. Kiara needs rest."
She turned to Yuvaan, her tone soft yet firm.
"Beta, I don't know what happened out there, but promise me you'll keep her safe."
Yuvaan's expression shifted — a moment of truth flickered behind his eyes.
He nodded slowly. "I promise, Moti Baa. No harm will ever touch her… as long as I breathe."
Chandrika smiled faintly, unaware how literal that vow was.