The sun was rising, spilling warm golden light across the highway leading to the Pratap Singh mansion. The air buzzed with excitement — today was the turmeric and sangeet ceremony.
Varun's car glided smoothly over the road, the engine a low hum beneath the soft classical music playing inside. He ended his office call with a quick flick of the hand, slipping his phone into the console. "Alright, team, catch up later," he murmured to himself, eyes scanning the road ahead.
Far ahead, a figure appeared on the side of the road — a young woman, her sharp features framed by her dark hair, walking with an almost playful confidence. Her purple eyes gleamed in the sunlight. It was Dilruba, in human form, looking deceptively delicate yet radiating a subtle, dangerous energy.
A few goons noticed her from the shadows and surrounded her, smirks playing on their lips.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one said, stepping forward, his tone teasing.
Dilruba tilted her head, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Bed… bed behavior," she said slowly, deliberately, drawing out each word.
The goons exchanged confused glances. "Bad… not bed," one corrected, irritation creeping in.
Dilruba waved a hand dismissively. "Same same," she giggled softly, eyes twinkling dangerously. "Look, Dilruba is in a very not pleasant mood, so please don't pareshan her."
"Pareshan?" one muttered, disbelief etched across his face. "What the…? Why are you talking like that? Come with us, we can teach you a thing or two."
Dilruba's grin widened, sharp and playful, her voice like a bell ringing with mischief. "Oh, really? Teach me, hmm? I do hope you're prepared for consequences…"
From a distance, Varun's car approached, the polished black vehicle cutting through the morning light. He ended his call with a decisive snap, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the group surrounding the girl. Something about the scene didn't sit right with him, a protective instinct flaring instantly.
The highway seemed to tense, the morning calm now replaced by an electric undercurrent — Dilruba, in human form, her usual mischief barely hiding the danger she carried, and Varun, unaware of the full scope of what was about to unfold, were about to cross paths in a collision that could change everything.
The morning sun beat down on the road, shadows stretching long across the asphalt. Dilruba, in her human form, walked with a mischievous sway, her purple eyes glinting with barely contained amusement. The goons closed in, smirks plastered across their faces.
One of them lunged forward and grabbed her hand.
"Oh, oh," Dilruba said softly, tilting her head with an innocent smile, "You might want to… let go of my hand."
The goons laughed, tightening their grip.
Dilruba's voice grew slightly colder, a delicate edge to it. "I really don't like getting angry. And when I do… well… I get… bad. Very bad. And trust me, you won't like that."
The teasing smirks faltered slightly, the warmth of the morning suddenly feeling heavy. Dilruba's free hand flicked as if to gesture casually, but the warning hung in the air like a promise.
She tried to pull her hand back gently, but the goons wouldn't budge.
"Seriously," she said, her smile returning — soft but unnerving — "I really don't like it when I get bad. So… I'd appreciate it if you let go."
Before the situation could escalate further, the roar of an engine grew louder. Varun's black car skidded to a halt a few feet away. He stepped out, eyes sharp, stance firm, and in an instant, the protective aura around him seemed to thicken.
"Hey!" Varun shouted, his voice like steel. "Let go of her, now!"
The goons sneered, thinking it was a bluff. One of them stepped forward, but Varun moved faster. In a series of fluid, precise movements, he incapacitated the first goon, the second, and the third. His fists were controlled, a silent promise of justice in each strike.
Dilruba watched, one brow arched, a giggle escaping her lips. "Well, well… that was fast," she said, retrieving her hand and brushing it lightly as though nothing had happened.
Varun turned to her, eyes still intense. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice firm but concerned.
Dilruba's purple eyes sparkled with delight, mischief dancing in their depths. "Oh, I'm better than alright," she replied, her voice soft, playful, and teasing. "Thanks… for stepping in. You really know how to make an entrance."
The goons groaned from the asphalt, clutching their bruises, while Dilruba's laughter carried lightly on the wind, a strange mixture of amusement and freedom.
Varun's gaze didn't leave her, protective yet curious, sensing that behind her playful demeanor, there was more at play than a mere road encounter.
The morning seemed to breathe again, the danger momentarily averted — but both knew, in some unspoken way, that this was only the beginning.