I didn't notice him the first time.
That's how predators work.
Quiet. Patient. Invisible.
It was my second week at college when I first saw Kabir Malhotra. He wasn't loud like the other rich boys. He didn't laugh too hard or flirt too openly.
He just watched.
From the back row.
From the parking lot.
From the shadows near the staircase.
At first, I thought it was coincidence.
Until it wasn't.
The rumor about him came before his introduction.
"They say his family runs half the city," my friend whispered one afternoon. "And the other half is scared of them."
Irolled my eyes. "It's just gossip."
But then I saw the way people moved when he walked past.
Professors lowered their tone.
Students stopped arguing.
Even the security guard nodded respectfully.
Power doesn't need announcements.
It announces itself.
The first time he spoke to me, it wasn't romantic.
It wasn't sweet.
It was strategic.
"You shouldn't walk alone after 6 PM."
I turned around, annoyed. "Excuse me?"
Kabir stood there in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable.
"There are people who notice things," he said calmly.
"Like you?" I shot back.
His lips curved slightly.
"Yes."
That smile didn't reach his eyes.
And that's when something inside me shifted.
Because I wasn't sure if he was warning me…
Or claiming me.
Two days later,I received a message from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Stay away from Kabir.
My heart raced.
Another message came seconds later.
Unknown:
He doesn't choose girls.
He keeps them.
Cold spread through my body.
I blocked the number.
But that night, I saw him outside my house.
Leaning against his car.
Looking up.
At my balcony.
He wasn't hiding.
He wanted me to see him.
The next day at college, I confronted him.
"Are you following me?"
He didn't even deny it.
"I prefer the word protecting."
"I didn't ask for protection."
"You don't have to."
That answer scared me more than if he had shouted.
Because it meant he had already decided.
Without my permission.
Later that evening, I saw something I wasn't supposed to see.
Behind the campus, near the abandoned parking lot, Kabir stood with three men.
One of them was bleeding.
Kabir didn't look angry.
He looked calm.
Too calm.
"You failed," he said softly to the man.
The way he spoke was worse than yelling.
"I'll fix it," the man stuttered.
Kabir adjusted his watch.
"You already had your chance."
I couldn't hear the rest.
But I heard the scream.
And I ran.
That night, my phone rang again.
Kabir.
My hands trembled before answering.
"You shouldn't spy on things you don't understand," he said quietly.
My blood froze.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do."
Silence.
Then—
"You're safe because I want you safe, Aarohi."
A pause.
"Don't make me regret that."
The call disconnected.
I didn't sleep that night.
Because I finally understood something terrifying.
Kabir Malhotra wasn't just interested in me.
He had chosen me.
And men like him…
Don't accept rejection.
Author's Note 🖤
Some love stories begin with butterflies.
This one begins with a warning.
Are you ready for what Kabir really is? 🔥