For a moment, the world ceased to exist.
The applause. The chants. The thousand flashes of cameras — they all faded.
Because there, in the second row, wearing a plain white tee and wary eyes, stood the girl who held his past around her neck.
The locket.His locket.Dangling against her chest like it belonged there.
A slow, invisible tremor passed through Abir.
He couldn't afford a scene. Not now.Not with every camera in the country pointed at his face.
But if she vanished into the crowd…That locket — that proof of a life no one knew — might vanish with her.
His fingers tightened around the microphone. His jaw locked.
And then — with the same precision he'd mastered in front of countless directors — Abir put on a different face.
Smooth. Controlled. Charismatic.
"I have… something personal to share today," he said, voice steady, gaze never leaving her.
The host blinked. The audience hushed.
Abir took a single step forward, commanding silence.
"You've loved me for years. But I've never let you see the real me. Tonight, I want to change that."
A heartbeat passed. Then:
"I want to introduce someone special."
The spotlight pivoted.
And found her.
Gasps rippled. Phones rose like an army.
Maholi froze. "What the—?"
Before she could move, Abir was descending from the stage, walking straight to her like a storm with a singular target.
Ritu grabbed her sleeve. "Maholi! What's happening? What the hell is happening!?"
But Abir was already beside her.
"Play along," he whispered, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "Just for a few minutes. You'll be rewarded generously."
Maholi's brows shot up. Her heart thudded. "Is this some kind of prank?"
"No," he said, his eyes flickering — barely — to the locket under her shirt.
And in that second, she understood.
It wasn't about her.It was about that.
Her fingers instinctively closed around the chain.
He needed the locket.
And this was his only way.
She drew in a sharp breath. Her instincts screamed walk away. But something — curiosity, maybe fate — held her in place.
"Fine," she muttered under her breath. "But don't forget what you owe me."
A smirk ghosted across his lips. Not joy. Not victory. Just relief.
He slipped his hand into hers. It was warm. Strong. Surprisingly human.
And then, together, they walked onto the stage — a choreographed dream stitched from lies.
"She's quiet," Abir said, addressing the gasping audience. "She's brilliant. And she hates everything about the spotlight — which is why I love her."
Maholi blinked again.
Love?
What the hell was going on?
But she didn't break.
She smiled — the kind of smile you wear when you're acting in a play you didn't audition for.
The crowd erupted. Hearts broke. Headlines were already being written.
And yet, all she could hear was her own pulse thundering in her ears.
Who was this man, really?What secret did that locket carry?And what had she just walked into?