POV: Avni
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and quiet panic. The kind of quiet that doesn't last, but lingers in your chest anyway.
I hadn't meant to be here. Not today. Not while Nivaan—dead or alive—was sitting somewhere, whole but broken.
I moved through the corridor, pretending to check my phone, but my instincts screamed. Someone was following me.
Not close. Not sloppy. Just… there.
A man in a dark jacket at the tea stall, pretending to sip chai, eyes locked on me.
A woman brushing past, shawl over her face—but deliberate, controlled. Observing. Waiting.
I stopped. Let them pass. Let the crowd do the work of shadows.
I whispered into my phone. "Meher. I think I'm being followed."
"Stay calm. Don't run. Keep moving to a populated area," her voice was steady. No panic. The kind of calm that makes you trust her, even when your lungs feel like lead.
I did as she said. Twisting through corridors, dodging nurses and gurneys. Every footstep behind me echoed like a threat. Every glance over my shoulder confirmed I wasn't imagining it.
Finally, the footsteps vanished. Just… gone.
"Safe?" Meher asked.
"Define safe," I muttered. My voice barely audible.
She didn't laugh. Didn't need to.
Then came the hospital cafeteria. Not my first thought as a refuge, but it was public, it had exits, and it gave me options.
Someone waited. Not a reporter. Not an intern. Too young, too sharp. Early twenties, denim jacket, hair wild as if sleep hadn't been invited in weeks.
Her eyes found me the moment I entered. Not curiosity. Recognition. Fear. Awareness.
"You're Meher, right?"
She hesitated. "And… you are?"
"Avni," I said, cautious.
Her mouth trembled. "I saw him. Last night. He… he's alive. And they—"
She swallowed hard, glanced around, then whispered: "They tried to take me too."
I stepped closer. Bruises shaped like fingers were visible under her sleeve. Deep. Anger and terror blended in the color of her skin.
My stomach dropped.
Meher's hand landed on my arm. Grounding me. "We need to know everything. Now."
The girl nodded, shivering. "They're coming again. You don't understand. If he stays out there… they'll—"
She stopped herself. The weight of unsaid words filled the space.
I glanced at Meher. She didn't need to speak. We both knew: nothing in this city was random. Nothing about Nivaan's survival was a coincidence.
And now, someone else was awake in the game. Watching. Waiting.