YEAR 2008

12 AUGUST

NYX GUESTHOUSE | UDAIPUR | NIGHT | 11:00 PM

The fire didn't roar. It devoured.

Walls cracked, wood screamed, and the air itself burned in their lungs.

"Maa... come back! Maa please!"

Eight-year-old Rashi's voice shattered against the chaos, thin and desperate, her tiny hands reaching toward the only person who meant home.

Her small hands stretched toward the doorway, her whole body shaking.

Anjali turned.

For one brief second, her eyes met Rashi's. And in that moment, everything was there.

Love. Fear. A decision already made.

"I can't leave your sister alone..."

And before Rashi could understand, Anjali ran back into the flames.

✧

Inside, the heat was unbearable.

Smoke blurred everything into shadows. The ceiling groaned, pieces of it falling apart. And in the middle of that collapsing room stood a fourteen-year-old girl, frozen in fear.

"Niharika..."

"Maa..." her voice trembled, barely audible.

Anjali rushed to her, pulling her into a tight embrace, shielding her as debris crashed around them. Her hands cupped Niharika's face, checking her as if making sure she was still real.

"I'm here... nothing will happen to you..."

But the house groaned again. Louder this time.

A pillar above them cracked.

Anjali's eyes flickered toward the door... toward where Rashi was still crying.

Her heart broke in that instant.

She held Niharika's face firmly.

"Rashi is outside... you have to take her and run."

Niharika shook her head immediately, panic flooding her.

"No! Maa, we'll go together! I won't leave you!"

Anjali's voice trembled, but her resolve didn't.

"Listen to me... she needs you right now."

Outside, Rashi's scream pierced through again.

"Maa!!"

Anjali closed her eyes for a second.

Then she leaned forward, kissing Niharika's forehead.

"Take care of her... meri beti."

(My child)

And before Niharika could stop her, she pushed her toward the door.

The pillar collapsed.

Flames surged.

And Anjali... was gone.

"Maaaaa!!"

The scream that followed didn't sound human.

Niharika stumbled out, coughing violently, her lungs burning, and saw Rashi trying to run toward the fire.

"No!"

She rushed forward, grabbing her, pulling her back. Rashi struggled wildly, hitting her tiny fists against Niharika.

"Mujhe chhodo! Maa andar hai!"

(Let me go! Maa is inside!)

Niharika held her tightly, even as her own body shook.

"Maa ne kaha... humein jaana hoga..."

(Maa said... we have to go...)

Rashi's cries turned into broken sobs.

"I want Maa..."

"I know..." Niharika whispered, her own tears falling freely. "I know..."

She lifted Rashi into her arms and ran.

But the night wasn't done with them.

✧

Niharika ran blindly, Rashi clutched tightly in her arms, her small body shaking with sobs that slowly... terrifyingly... began to fade.

"Maa..." Rashi whimpered weakly, her voice losing strength.

"Rashi... don't close your eyes... please..." Niharika pleaded, her breath uneven, her legs trembling from exhaustion and shock.

Behind them, footsteps echoed.

Heavy. Deliberate.

They weren't the footsteps of someone coming to rescue them.

It was him.

Rashi's father.

The man who had started it all.

His silhouette emerged through the smoke, an iron rod gripped tightly in his hand, his face twisted with something far darker than anger.

"Running away?" his voice echoed coldly, almost amused. "You think you can take my daughter away from me?"

Niharika's heart dropped.

He did this.

He burned the house.

He killed Maa.

And now he wanted to finish it.

Rashi's body suddenly went limp.

"Rashi?" Niharika's voice cracked. "Rashi! No... no, stay with me..."

But the child didn't respond.

Her head fell against Niharika's shoulder.

Unconscious.

The weight in Niharika's arms suddenly felt unbearable. Not just physically, but emotionally.

"No... no, please..." she whispered, panic choking her.

Her steps faltered. Her vision blurred.

Then she tripped.

Her knees slammed against the ground. Rashi slipped from her arms, falling onto the rough earth beside her.

"Rashi!"

Niharika immediately reached for her, pulling her close again.

But it was too late.

He was already there.

The man loomed over them, his shadow swallowing what little light remained.

"Useless girl," he sneered at Niharika. "You should've burned with her."

Niharika's body froze. But only for a second.

Then instinct took over.

She dragged Rashi closer, shielding her small unconscious body with her own.

"Don't touch her..." Niharika's voice shook, but her arms tightened protectively around Rashi.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Move."

Niharika didn't.

"I said... MOVE!"

The iron rod lifted.

Time slowed again.

Niharika didn't run.

Didn't beg.

Didn't move.

She only bent forward, curling over Rashi, covering her completely.

If anything had to break...

It would be her.

The rod came down.

A sickening crack echoed through the night.

Pain exploded across Niharika's back, ripping a scream from her throat.

"Aaaahhh!"

Her body jolted violently, but she didn't let go. Didn't move away. Didn't uncover Rashi.

Another strike threatened, but her body had already taken too much. She collapsed forward, her weight shielding Rashi completely.

Her breathing turned ragged. Her vision darkened.

But her arms were still wrapped around her sister.

Still protecting.

The world had already taken everything from her. She wasn't going to let it take Rashi too.

Niharika lay over Rashi, her back burning from the impact, her breath uneven.

But her eyes...

They weren't weak anymore.

They were awake.

Watching.

Calculating.

Through the blur of tears and smoke, her gaze flickered toward a rock just inches away. Heavy. Sharp enough.

The man stepped closer, lifting the iron rod again, his shadow falling over them.

"Both of you should've died in that fire..."

Before he could finish, Niharika moved.

Fast.

Her fingers grabbed the rock, and with every ounce of strength left in her body, she swung.

CRACK.

The rock smashed straight into his knee. A horrifying sound followed.

"Aaaarghhh!" he screamed, collapsing instantly, the rod slipping from his hand as he fell.

Niharika didn't stop. She dragged Rashi closer with one arm, her chest heaving.

And then...

A click.

The sound came from behind.

Niharika turned.

Another presence.

Another threat.

Her head snapped up.

A man stood there, gun raised, finger tightening on the trigger.

"Smart girl," he muttered, "but not smart enough..."

He never finished.

Niharika didn't think. She didn't hesitate.

She threw the rock straight at his face.

It hit with brutal force. The gun slipped from his hand before he could fire.

Silence followed for half a second.

Then Niharika lunged.

Ignoring the pain screaming through her body, she crawled, then stumbled forward, grabbing the gun with shaking hands.

Her fingers tightened around it.

The metal was heavy. Cold. Unfamiliar for a child.

But right now it was the only thing standing between life and death.

Behind her, a groan.

Rashi's father was still alive. Still dangerous. Trying to push himself up.

"Y-you..." he hissed, rage burning through the pain.

Niharika turned. Slowly.

Her entire body shook, but not from fear anymore.

From something else.

Something raw.

Something broken.

Something furious.

"You burned our home..." her voice trembled. She took a step forward.

"You killed Maa..."

Another step. Her grip steadied.

"You tried to kill her..."

Her gaze flickered toward Rashi, unconscious, fragile, innocent.

Then back at him.

And something inside her snapped.

The first shot rang out.

It echoed through the empty night.

It hit his chest. His body jerked, shock flooding his face.

The second shot came immediately after.

Then another.

And another.

Back to back.

Until her fingers stopped moving.

Until the gun fell silent.

Until he stopped moving.

The world stilled.

Smoke drifted.

Fire crackled in the distance.

And in the middle of it, a fourteen-year-old girl stood there trembling, the gun slipping from her fingers as it hit the ground.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her ears rang. Her hands shook violently.

Then she turned.

Back to Rashi.

And everything inside her broke again.

She dropped beside her, pulling her into her arms.

"Rashi... hey... hey, I'm here..." her voice cracked, softer now, desperate.

No response.

Her tears fell freely, soaking her cheeks.

"I won't let anything happen to you... I promise..." she whispered, pressing her forehead against the child's.

In one night, she lost her mother.

Lost her childhood.

But she didn't lose her sister.

And that was the only thing keeping her standing.

✧

Through the haze of smoke and the echo of gunshots, two figures stood at a distance, watching everything unfold.

Shivaansh Pratap Rajput

Veer Pratap Rajput

They had seen it all.

The fire.

The collapse.

The moment a fourteen-year-old girl chose to fight back instead of breaking.

And then...

The trigger.

A slow smile formed on Shivaansh's face.

Not joy.

Not relief.

Recognition.

Veer, on the other hand, didn't see strength.

He saw his daughter.

Broken. Bleeding. Alone.

"NIHARIKA!" his voice tore through the distance as he ran toward her.

Niharika barely had time to turn before her legs gave out.

He caught her.

She collapsed into him.

"Papa..." her voice was barely a whisper before everything went dark.

Veer's arms tightened around her instantly.

His gaze shifted to Rashi, small, unconscious, almost lifeless in appearance, and his heart shattered further.

Without another word, he lifted both girls.

Behind him, Shivaansh still stood there.

Watching.

Calculating.

The fire burned behind them.

But something far more dangerous had just been born.

✧❥

TEN DAYS LATER

RAJPUT MANSION | UDAIPUR | EVENING | 5:00 PM

The mansion no longer felt alive.

It felt haunted.

Not by ghosts.

But by memory.

Ten days had passed since the fire, yet the walls still carried the echoes of screams, smoke, and gunshots. The air itself felt heavy, like the house had witnessed something irreversible and still hadn't recovered from it.

In the center of the grand hall stood Shivaansh Pratap Rajput.

Calm. Unshaken.

As if tragedy was merely part of destiny unfolding exactly the way he expected.

Facing him stood Veer Pratap Rajput, his eyes red from sleepless nights spent beside a hospital bed, watching his daughter breathe and wondering how much of her had survived that night.

Beside him were Virath Pratap Rajput and Ashok Pratap Rajput, both already sensing the storm about to erupt.

Then Shivaansh spoke.

"From today... Black Realm will have a new ruler."

Silence fell harder.

And then

"Niharika Pratap Rajput."

"No."

Veer's voice cut through instantly.

Sharp. Raw.

"She is fourteen," he snapped, stepping forward. "She just watched her mother die. She just killed a man to save her sister..."

His voice broke for a second.

"And you want to throw her into this world?"

Virath exhaled heavily.

"Dad, this is wrong. She needs healing, not this."

Ashok nodded grimly.

"She's already carrying more trauma than she should."

But Shivaansh remained still.

"I watched her," he said quietly. "Standing in fire and blood... and when the moment came, she chose to act."

His eyes darkened.

"She didn't freeze."

A pause.

"She pulled the trigger."

"That wasn't strength!" Veer shouted, fury finally breaking through. "That was fear! That was a child breaking in front of you!"

Shivaansh looked at him without blinking.

"No," he said softly.

"That was survival."

Veer stepped closer, his chest rising heavily.

"You want to make her a monster like you."

For a second

Silence.

Then Shivaansh smiled.

Cold.

Small.

Terrifying.

"Yes."

The word landed like a death sentence.

"Black Realm is not just an organisation, it's a territory," he continued, "and to rule it, I don't need softness. I need a monster."

Veer's jaw tightened painfully.

"She is my daughter."

"And she is my blood. The princess of Udaipur!"

The hall fell silent again.

Because everyone knew

When Shivaansh made a decision, it was law.

Then

Footsteps.

Slow.

Weak.

But steady.

Everyone turned.

And there she stood.

Niharika Pratap Rajput.

Pale from her injuries. Fragile.

But her eyes, her eyes no longer belonged to a child.

They had seen flames.

Death.

And the exact moment innocence dies forever.

Veer moved instantly.

"Baccha, you should be resting..."

"I heard everything."

Her voice stopped him.

Quiet.

But unshakable.

She walked forward slowly despite the pain, her gaze briefly flickering toward the room where Rashi rested.

Something softened in her eyes for just a second.

Then it disappeared.

She looked at Shivaansh.

And spoke.

"I'm ready."

Veer froze.

"No," he said immediately, his voice cracking. "You don't understand..."

"I do."

Too calm.

Far too calm for a fourteen-year-old girl.

She lifted her chin slightly.

"I will rule Black Realm."

The words settled over the room like smoke after destruction.

Virath and Ashok exchanged uneasy glances.

Veer looked at his daughter as though he had just lost her too.

And Shivaansh smiled.

Slowly.

Proudly.

Because in that moment

The girl who survived the fire disappeared.

And someone far more dangerous was born.

✧❥

YEAR 2024

17 JUNE

PRIVATE RESIDENCE | MUMBAI | EVENING | 6:00 PM

The room was too quiet.

Not peaceful. Controlled.

The kind of silence that exists where power sits heavy in the air and no one speaks unless it matters.

A long table stretched across the center. On one side sat Dev, Rashi, Daksh, and Ishani.

Armed guards stood at a distance, still as statues, eyes alert.

At the center of the table lay a newspaper.

The headline screamed louder than anyone in the room.

Dev leaned back slightly, jaw tight, fingers tapping against the table in restrained irritation.

"We need to get this cleared before it spreads further," he said, his tone controlled but sharp. "If this escalates, it won't just be a headline. It'll become a narrative."

Daksh let out a soft scoff, leaning back in his chair like the situation didn't deserve tension.

There was no anger in him.

Only a calm, almost amused detachment.

"Uski biwi mein itni himmat?" he said lightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

(His wife has this much courage?)

He tilted his head, glancing at the paper as if it bored him.

"Complaint file kar di woh bhi humari family ke against..."

(She filed a complaint that too against our family...)

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"Jaanti bhi hai kis se panga liya hai?"

(Does she even know who she has messed with?)

The words weren't loud.

But they carried a chilling ease, like consequences were inevitable and he already knew the ending.

Ishani didn't react to the tone, her focus still on the paper.

"She has named Niharika as the prime suspect," she said calmly, but her eyes flickered with concern. "The case is already registered. This isn't just noise anymore."

Rashi's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.

"She won't stop," she said quietly. "Not unless she's made to."

Before anyone could respond, the door opened.

And the atmosphere shifted.

Niharika Pratap Rajput stepped in.

Calm. Composed. Untouchable.

A black gown draped her frame like authority itself. On her collarbone rested the tattoo

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓲 • 𝓥𝓲𝓬𝓲 • 𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓸

I came. I conquered. I rule.

Her hands

Still stained with blood.

Behind her walked Maira and Raghav.

Not a single person in the room spoke as she entered. Because her presence spoke enough.

Without sparing a glance at anyone, she walked straight past them toward the washroom.

The sound of running water filled the silence.

Blood washed away, as if it meant nothing.

Dev exhaled, leaning slightly toward Maira.

"Ab kaun tapak gaya?" he asked, almost casually.

(So, who dropped dead this time?)

Maira didn't even blink.

"Wahi broker," she replied, equally indifferent.

(That broker.)

Daksh let out a low chuckle.

"Busy night," he murmured.

Niharika stepped out. Her hands were clean now.

Raghav turned toward Rashi.

"Has Vishwas's body been post-mortemed yet?"

"Not yet," Rashi replied. "It's still under process."

Niharika finally looked at them.

Just one glance and the room straightened.

"Clean this," she said.

Her voice wasn't loud.

But it didn't need to be.

"I don't want a single headline tomorrow carrying our name."

Dev leaned forward, his tone careful but firm.

"Di... you killed him because he deserved it," he said. "But now the problem isn't him. It's the story."

He tapped the newspaper.

"Our focus should be shifting public perception. People need to believe this was natural."

"Kal hearing hai," Maira added.

(The hearing is tomorrow.)

Daksh leaned back, arms crossed.

"Jo bhi karna pade, karo," he said coldly.

(Do whatever it takes.)

"Verdict hamare favour mein hona chahiye."

(The verdict should be in our favor.)

Ishani closed the file in front of her.

"I'll handle the legal side," she said, her tone steady. "Judge, documents, narrative... everything will align."

A pause.

"Decision humare against nahi jayega."

(The decision will not go against us.)

Niharika didn't respond immediately.

She walked toward the window instead. Picked up a glass of wine.

The city lights reflected in her eyes, but there was no warmth in them.

Only calculation.

"Virath uncle is stepping into politics," she said slowly. "This case doesn't just damage us. It weakens the foundation we're building."

Her grip tightened slightly around the glass.

"Tomorrow's headlines will state only one thing," she murmured.

She turned slightly, her gaze cutting through the room.

"That Vishwas's death was natural."

"Contact Jay," she added, her voice calm but final. "The post-mortem report needs to say what we want it to say."

Raghav nodded once.

"Consider it done."

Niharika took a slow sip of her wine, her voice echoing one last time

"Make sure..."

A pause.

"No one forgets who we are. And they remember that there are consequences of crossing our path"

Because in their world

Truth didn't matter.

Only power did.

✧

NEXT DAY

The verdict arrived exactly the way they wanted.

Clean. Controlled. Untouchable.

Every media channel carried the same statement.

"Vishwas Mahajan dies due to sudden cardiac arrest. No evidence of foul play found." a reporter said on Television

No mention of blood.

No mention of fear.

And certainly no mention of Niharika Pratap Rajput or the Rajput Family

The system had done what it always did in front of power.

It bowed.

✧

TWO DAYS LATER

VELMORA GROUP | MUMBAI | AFTERNOON | 3:00 PM

The afternoon sun hung harsh and unforgiving, casting sharp shadows across the marble steps as the glass doors slid open.

Niharika stepped out.

Her presence was the same as always. Composed. Controlled. Untouched by the chaos that followed her name. Every step she took was steady, measured, as if the world moved according to her rhythm.

Beside her, Raghav walked in quiet vigilance, his gaze instinctively scanning the surroundings.

The guards were already alert.

Because something felt... wrong.

And then

Niharika stopped.

Her eyes had found the source.

A woman stood ahead.

Not just standing. Holding herself together by force.

Her saree was disheveled, her hair falling loose, her face pale.

But her eyes burned with something that had gone beyond grief. Beyond tears. Beyond sanity.

Vishwas Mahajan's wife.

The guards moved instantly, stepping in front of her.

"Ma'am, you can't come..."

But grief doesn't stop.

Pain doesn't wait.

She surged forward with a strength that didn't belong to her body anymore. It belonged to her loss.

In one desperate motion, she snatched the gun from a guard's holster.

Everything happened at once and yet

Too slowly.

Her hands trembled violently. Her breath shattered in uneven gasps.

But her eyes locked onto Niharika.

The first shot rang out.

A deafening crack sliced through the air.

The bullet tore past Niharika's shoulder.

Missed.

The second shot followed immediately. Wild. Uncontrolled.

It struck the pillar behind her, fragments scattering.

Gasps echoed.

The guards lunged forward, but she fired again.

The third bullet cut through the space between them, close enough to feel.

Still

It missed Niharika.

Her hands shook harder now. Her vision blurred with tears.

But she didn't stop.

She couldn't stop.

The fourth shot exploded into the air.

A scream tore from her throat as she pulled the trigger, but even that bullet failed to find its mark.

Silence.

For one breath.

Then chaos returned.

The guards grabbed her, wrenching the gun from her hands, forcing her down.

"Control her!"

"Gun secure!"

Raghav stepped forward instantly, his entire body tense

But Niharika hadn't moved.

Not even an inch.

Not during the first shot.

Not during the fourth.

Not even now.

Her gaze remained fixed on the woman.

There was no warmth in her eyes.

Only coldness.

Slowly, she raised her hand.

A single gesture.

Enough to stop everything.

The guards froze.

Confusion flickered across their faces, but obedience came first.

Reluctantly, they released the woman.

She staggered forward, breathing heavily. Her entire body shook, but her eyes

Her eyes refused to fall.

They burned brighter now.

Because the bullets had failed.

But her words wouldn't.

"You killed him," she said, her voice cracking yet sharp, pointing at Niharika with trembling fingers. "Mujhe pata hai tumne hi kiya hai..."

(I know you are the one who killed him...)

"Court ne jo bhi bola ho... sach nahi badalta."

(Whatever the court said... it doesn't change the truth.)

Her voice broke at the edges.

But it didn't weaken.

Niharika didn't respond.

Didn't defend herself.

Didn't deny it.

And that silence

That cold, unmoving silence burned more than any answer ever could.

The woman laughed.

A hollow, broken sound that didn't belong to joy.

"Do you know why those bullets didn't hit you?" she asked, her voice trembling with something darker now.

Her lips quivered, but her eyes hardened.

"Because death is too small for you."

A pause.

"Bhagwan ne tumhare liye usse bhi badi saza rakhi hai."

(God has kept a punishment far worse for you.)

The air thickened.

Something shifted.

She stepped closer. Closer than anyone should have been allowed.

But no one stopped her.

Because Niharika hadn't.

"Tumhe mera dard abhi samajh nahi aayega..." she whispered.

(You won't understand my pain right now...)

"Lekin ek din aayega... jab tumhe kisi se pyaar hoga."

(But a day will come... when you fall in love with someone.)

For the first time, there was a flicker in Niharika's eyes.

Barely there.

But real.

The woman saw it.

And her voice grew stronger.

"Main prathana karungi ki tumhe bhi ishq ho."

(I will pray that you fall in love too.)

"Beintehaan... bepannah... Tum kisi se itna pyaar karo, ki tumhari rooh tak usse jud jaye."

(Limitless... endless... You love someone so much, that even your soul becomes tied to him.)

Her voice broke.

But she didn't stop.

"Lekin..." she choked.

(But...)

That one word carried her entire loss.

"Woh tumhe kabhi nahi milega."

(But you will never get that person.)

Silence pressed in.

A kind of silence that suffocates.

Raghav stiffened listening to her words. His gaze shifted toward his boss, who was simply standing there, listening to everything.

"Tum uske liye tadapogi..."

(You will ache for him...)

"Har din... har raat... har pal... lekin woh tumhe nahi milega."

(Every day... every night... every moment... but you will never have him.)

Her hands trembled violently now.

"Tum uske liye bheek maangogi... lekin woh tumhe bheek mein bhi nahi milega."

(You will beg for him... but you won't get him even as alms.)

Her voice dropped into a whisper.

Broken. Final.

"Tumhe ishq hoga..." she stepped closer, "lekin woh ishq tumhe kabhi hasil nahi hoga."

(You will fall in love... but that love will never be yours.)

A tear fell.

"Aur woh ehsaas maut se bhi battar hoga."

(And that feeling would be worse than death.)

"Yeh meri baddua hai..."

(This is my curse.)

The world stood still. No one moved.

No one spoke and Niharika, she stood there.

Unmoved. Unshaken. Untouched.

But deep inside something had shifted.

Something that didn't belong to power. Didn't belong to control.

And for the first time in years, silence didn't feel like strength. It felt like something waiting.

Because bullets had missed.

But words

Words don't.

✧❥

YEAR 2025

RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS WING HEADQUARTERS | NEW DELHI | AFTERNOON | 3:00 PM

The corridors of RAW Headquarters were unnaturally quiet.

Not the quiet of peace.

But of control.

The kind that pressed against your senses, reminding you that every movement here was measured, every whisper recorded, every secret buried deeper than it should be.

Inside his cabin stood Hriday, his silhouette framed against the glass window. The city stretched endlessly below, alive and chaotic.

But none of that reflected in his eyes.

Because his thoughts were elsewhere.

On a name.

On a storm that hadn't yet reached its peak.

A knock.

"Sir, ASR is on his way," his assistant said.

Hriday didn't turn immediately.

A faint, almost knowing smile touched his lips.

"Let him in."

The door opened.

And for a moment

Even a place like RAW felt the shift.

Advait Singh Rathore stepped in.

He didn't just enter the room.

He commanded it without effort.

Good height. Perfectly structured. Every line of his presence sharp yet effortless. His features were striking in a way that didn't just attract attention

It held it captive.

A sculpted jawline. Sharp cheekbones. Skin carrying a quiet glow beneath the muted lights.

But it was his eyes that made people pause.

Hazel.

Not just a color, but a contradiction.

Warm like sunlight. Dangerous like fire.

The kind of eyes that could soften a room

Or burn it down depending on what lay beneath.

And right now , they were calm. Disciplined. Masked.

"Sir," he said, posture straight, voice controlled.

"Inside," Hriday gestured.

The inner cabin door closed behind them, sealing them away from the world.

Advait stood still.

Every inch the perfect officer.

Rigid. Precise. Unreadable.

Hriday watched him for a long second

Then exhaled, almost amused.

"Yeh kya hai?"

(What is this?)

"RAW ka cabin hai, parade ground nahi."

(This is RAW headquarters, not a parade ground.)

A pause.

"Relax."

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then Advait let out a slow breath.

And just like that

The formality broke.

His shoulders eased. The sharpness softened. Not completely, never completely, but enough.

A faint smile curved his lips. Warm. Effortless. Almost disarming.

"Better?" he asked lightly.

Hriday's expression shifted instantly. Softer. Familiar.

"Much better."

"Waise bhi," Hriday added, sitting down, "itni formality tumhe suit nahi karti."

(Even so, so much formality doesn't suit you.)

Advait smirked slightly, leaning back just a little.

"Toh phir... uncle chalega?"

(Then... can I call you uncle?)

Hriday's eyes softened.

"Hamesha se chalta tha."

(It always did.)

A pause settled between them.

"You're exactly like him."

Advait's smile didn't disappear.

But it changed.

"Like who?"

Hriday leaned back slightly, his gaze holding something deeper now.

"Shaurya. Your father."

The name settled between them.

Heavy. Significant.

Advait smiled faintly.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," Hriday replied.

Because he knew

That warmth wasn't weakness.

It was control.

The air shifted.

Subtly.

But completely.

"I didn't call you here for memories, Advait," Hriday said, his tone steady now.

Advait straightened slightly. Not fully formal, but attentive.

"I figured."

Hriday picked up a file from his desk.

It was thick. Classified. Dangerous.

The kind of file that didn't just contain information

It carried consequences.

"RAW agents don't handle domestic cases," he said slowly. "Especially not ones involving powerful families."

He placed the file on the table.

The sound was soft.

But it echoed.

"But this one..." he paused, his gaze sharpening, "this one isn't just domestic."

A beat of silence.

"It's dangerous."

Another pause.

"And deadly."

Advait's fingers rested on the file.

For a moment, he didn't open it.

His gaze lingered on the cover

As if he could already feel the weight of what was inside.

Then

He flipped it open.

His eyes moved across the page.

Focused. Sharp. Controlled.

And then

They stopped.

A name.

Not unfamiliar.

Not small.

NIHARIKA PRATAP RAJPUT.

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