At the Villa in Mumbai, Bhoomi and Susheela stood by the window, the soft glow of a diya illuminating Kiara's garlanded photo. Their voices were hushed, heavy with unspoken grief.
"It's been nine years… yet Yuvaan and Kiaan barely speak," Bhoomi murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "He tries to guide him, to discipline him, to shape him into someone strong… but all Kiaan sees is anger. He doesn't understand why his father is so harsh."
Susheela placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "It's not just discipline. It's guilt, fear, and love tangled together. But still… the bond is fraying. It's breaking, Bhoomi."
Bhoomi's hands folded in silent prayer. "Lord Shiva… please… perform a miracle. Mend this father and son. Let Kiaan see Yuvaan beyond anger… and let Yuvaan see Kiaan beyond pain."
---
Meanwhile, on a winding highway in Udaipur, the jungle pressed close on either side. A figure darted through the sunlight, her veil fluttering with every desperate step. The distant shouts of men pursuing her echoed through the trees.
Suddenly, she stumbled. The veil slipped, revealing her face. Panic surged as the goons called out her name:
"Khushi! Stop!"
Khushi scrambled to her feet, heart hammering, legs burning, lungs screaming for air. Her every instinct screamed survival as she sprinted with everything she had.
At that same moment, a sleek black car cut along the highway. Inside, Yuvaan's phone pressed to his ear, his voice clipped, authoritative, precise.
"Yes, I understand, Mr. Sharma… no, that won't be possible. I'll have the board review the projections again and revert by end of day," he said smoothly, tone professional yet commanding. "Yes, I know the deadlines are tight. I've already instructed the teams… look, I'll handle it. You just make sure your clients are informed. Understood? Good."
He ended the call, letting the phone click softly in the console, but his eyes—trained, sharp, instinctive—caught movement at the edge of the road. A shadow, a flutter of fabric, a desperate stumble.
Khushi had darted onto the asphalt. Tires screeched. Yuvaan slammed the brakes, the car skidding to a controlled halt. Dust puffed around the tires. Khushi fell, chest heaving, hands braced against the tarmac.
Yuvaan stepped out, all command and presence. Even at thirty-five, he exuded effortless authority, the weight of a man used to bending the world to his will. His glasses slid slightly down his nose, accentuating the intensity of his eyes.
He extended a hand, calm but firm. Khushi's gaze lifted slowly, meeting his. Time seemed to stretch—the chaotic forest, the pursuing men, the screeching tires—all faded into a muted haze.
She placed her trembling hand in his. The contact sent a subtle spark, delicate yet undeniable, through both of them.
As Yuvaan helped her upright, their bodies brushed. A heartbeat passed. Two strangers, yet a magnetic pull tethered them together, electric and unspoken.
For an instant, the world held its breath. The wind, the trees, even the highway seemed to pause. They didn't speak. They didn't question. They simply felt it—a strange familiarity, a silent recognition, as though the universe itself had folded time and space just to bring them to this moment.
And yet, that was only the beginning. The threads of fate had begun to weave their tangled pattern, slow, deliberate… inevitable.
The sunlight poured through the dense trees lining the winding highway, casting dappled patterns on the asphalt. Yuvaan's hand remained on Khushi's, lingering just slightly longer than necessary. There was a strange, magnetic warmth in her touch, a pull he couldn't explain. His brow furrowed, mind running over fragments he didn't recognize. Why… why does this feel so familiar?
Khushi, meanwhile, felt a flutter in her chest. Her pulse raced, and her eyes kept drifting up to his face. God… he's so handsome. Maybe that's why I can't take my eyes off him…
Their shared moment stretched, delicate and silent, a breath suspended in time under the bright, unforgiving light of day. And then—the harsh, abrupt sound of voices shattered it.
"Khushi! Come with us!"
Three men emerged from the sunlit shadows, eyes narrowed, their tone sharp, demanding. Panic washed over Khushi like ice. Memories she had tried to bury surged back—the forced nights in a brothel, the cruelty, the terror, the desperate gamble that had saved her life. She shivered, every instinct screaming to run.
Before she could even think, Khushi pulled her hand from Yuvaan's and bolted. Her earrings brushed against his shoulder as she passed, leaving behind a small piece—a silent, almost fragile remnant of her presence.
Yuvaan's chest tightened. His eyes narrowed. The brief warmth of her hand vanished, replaced by a surge of protectiveness he could not contain.
The goons moved forward, smirks on their faces. But Yuvaan stepped in front of Khushi, his posture rigid, his gaze sharp. No trace of amusement or hesitation remained.
"Back off," he said, voice low, steady, filled with authority that needed no supernatural enhancement. "Do you really think it's acceptable to trouble a girl like this?"
One of the goons sneered. "Mind your own business, old man. This doesn't concern you."
Yuvaan's eyes flashed, and his grip tightened on the car door beside him. "She bumped into my car. Now it's my business."
The men laughed mockingly, advancing with the intent to intimidate. But Yuvaan didn't flinch. Every muscle in his body tensed as he moved with calculated precision. The first man lunged—Yuvaan sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and sent him sprawling. The second swung wildly—Yuvaan ducked, countered with a sharp elbow, and the man staggered backward. The third charged, thinking brute force could overwhelm him. Yuvaan met the assault with controlled fury, each strike precise, efficient, devastatingly human.
By the time the last man hit the ground, groaning and clutching his ribs, Yuvaan stood tall, chest heaving, eyes dark with anger and protection. He didn't smile. There was no joy in his victory—only a fierce, primal determination that this girl, this stranger, would not be harmed while he stood.
Khushi's chest heaved as she slowed, hiding behind the car. Her wide eyes met Yuvaan's, gratitude and awe swirling in their depths. For a fleeting second, the world had contracted again, just the two of them—broken, human, and painfully alive.
And yet, the bright daylight around them did little to calm the tension. The jungle whispered, shadows lingered among the trees, and the threads of fate had only begun to twist tighter.