Chapter 6
Raaz’s Penthouse, Early Morning
The sun had barely broken over Mumbai’s skyline, casting golden rays against Raaz’s high-rise glass windows. But inside the penthouse, the air was heavy, tense.
Raaz stood shirtless near the floor-length window, a scar from last night’s skirmish running across his shoulder like a jagged badge of war. He sipped his black coffee slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon as if Kartik’s act might reveal itself in the haze.
Yash entered the room, phone in hand. “Still no trace. Kartik’s gone underground. Burners off. CCTV blind spots. We checked every usual rat hole.”
Raaz didn’t move. “He planned this.”
Yash nodded. “You think he’ll strike back?”
“He doesn’t have the spine,” Raaz said flatly. Then, with a pause, “But rats bite hardest when they’re cornered.”
Yash watched his boss carefully. “You want to push further?”
Raaz’s jaw clenched. “Double the guards. And put out the word—I want eyes in every port, every warehouse, every hotel with a rooftop bar. He won’t stay buried for long.”
Meanwhile, College Campus – Midday
The college courtyard bustled with activity. Students hurried between lectures, some carrying thick files, others sipping coffee, the air filled with chatter and deadlines.
Aanya walked with her books clutched to her chest, her head lowered as she approached the front steps. The day was bright, but she had learned that even sunlight couldn’t keep some shadows away.
Meher was waiting.
Flanked by two girls who laughed at everything she said, Meher crossed her arms, blocking Aanya’s path.
“Well, if it isn’t the scholarship charity case,” Meher drawled, her voice coated with mockery. “How’s the library job, Aanya? Shelving books must suit your... quiet nature.”
The girls snickered.
Aanya blinked at her calmly, said nothing. She remembered what Tara had told her about Meher’s past. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The fall from grace. Aanya could have defended herself. But she didn’t.
Instead, she offered a soft smile. “It suits me just fine.”
And then she walked around them.
Meher’s smirk faltered, just for a second.
Later, in the Canteen
Aanya sat at a quiet corner table, eating her simple home-packed lunch—dal, rice, a folded roti wrapped in foil. Her eyes were on the book in front of her, though she wasn’t really reading.
“Mind if I join you?”
She looked up.
Samay.
The most effortlessly charming boy in her class. Always confident, always surrounded by people, always a little out of reach for someone like her.
“I—um—sure,” she said hesitantly, surprised.
He sat down, placing his tray on the table. “I’ve seen you in lectures. You always ask the right questions. Most people just nod along.”
Aanya blinked. “I just... I try to understand the subject.”
“That’s what I admire,” Samay said, offering a smile that was refreshingly genuine. “Most people speak to be heard. You speak only when it matters.”
Aanya flushed, unsure of what to say. She had never had a real conversation with a boy before—certainly not one like him.
“I know I can come off a bit... loud. But I mean this sincerely. Would you be open to... friendship?” he asked.
Aanya hesitated. But then she saw no mischief in his eyes, only honesty.
She nodded, shyly. “Yes. I think I’d like that.”
And with that simple exchange, something in her world shifted—a ripple, subtle and soft, but it would carry far more than either of them knew.
The days that followed flowed with a comforting rhythm for Aanya. Mornings meant lectures, evenings were spent in the hushed calm of the old library, and somewhere in between, Samay’s unexpected presence began stitching its way into her life.
It started small.
He’d wait for her outside their Criminal Law lecture, pretending he just happened to be there early. He’d walk beside her to the canteen, ask about her thoughts on a case study, listen more than he spoke. And though Aanya remained cautious, there was a warmth in his company that began to feel safe.
One afternoon, as they sat beneath a gulmohar tree in the campus garden, Samay offered her a pack of biscuits. “You’re always carrying food for others. Let someone take care of you for once.”
She smiled, eyes crinkling softly. “I’m not used to that.”
He leaned back, arms folded behind his head. “Well, get used to it. I have a younger sister—I know how to look after people.”
Aanya’s eyes softened. “I have a younger brother. That’s why I started working. He’s still in school.”
Samay tilted his head, curious. “You take a lot on your shoulders.”
“It’s nothing special,” she said simply. “I just want to make sure he has the chances I never did.”
There was no self-pity in her words—only quiet resolve. Samay watched her, realizing that strength didn’t always roar. Sometimes, it whispered.
Over time, they began studying together in the library, sharing chai breaks, walking halfway home before parting ways. For Aanya, who had never truly let anyone in—especially a boy—this quiet companionship was new, tender, and a little confusing.
One evening, as she was shelving books at the library, her phone buzzed.
Samay: “Don’t forget to eat dinner today. You tend to skip when you’re tired.”
She stared at the message for a long moment before typing back a shy: “I won’t. You too.”
Back at her table, she smiled to herself—a soft, hopeful smile that not even the dim yellow lights of the library could dull.
The golden hues of the evening sun filtered through the curtains of their modest hostel room. Tara was sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone, while Aanya sat cross-legged on the floor, neatly folding her laundry after returning from work.
“So,” Tara began, a sly grin spreading across her face, “how’s your new study buddy?”
Aanya didn’t look up. “He’s just a classmate.”
Tara chuckled. “Classmate? Really? Because this ‘classmate’ walks you to the library, brings you tea, and stares at you like you’re a rare historical artifact he just found.”
Aanya gave her a tired look. “You’re imagining things.”
“I’m observing things,” Tara corrected smugly. “Come on, Anu! You’re allowed to like someone, you know. It’s not a crime.”
Aanya sighed, setting a folded kurta aside. “It’s not about that. I just… I don’t have time for these distractions.”
Tara softened. “Because of your brother?”
“Because of everything,” Aanya said quietly. “I have a job, college, my responsibilities. I didn’t come here to fall in love. I came here to build a life—for myself and for him.”
Tara sat up, more serious now. “I get it. I do. But sometimes life gives us people not to distract us… but to remind us we’re human too.”
Aanya didn’t respond immediately. She simply stared at her folded clothes, heart heavy with unsaid emotions.
“I’m just saying,” Tara added gently, “don’t shut people out who genuinely care. Not everyone wants something from you.”
“I know,” Aanya murmured. “But I can’t afford to be careless. Not with my dreams. Not with my brother’s future.”
Tara nodded, understanding more than she let on. “Alright, fine. I’ll stop teasing—for now.”
Aanya smiled faintly, her eyes soft. “Thank you.”
But as she turned back to her task, somewhere deep down, a part of her still clung to the warmth of Samay’s words, the way he made her feel—seen, without asking for anything in return.