Khushi walked out through the tall school gates, the afternoon sun warm against her skin, but her heart anything but steady. Her fingers still tingled with the memory of Kiaan's tiny hands, his hug, his sudden lie that saved her. She clutched her bag strap tightly, exhaling a shaky breath as she stepped onto the pedestrian path.
Will he even come tomorrow with someone from his family?
Did I do wrong letting a child lie for me?
Her thoughts circled restlessly. Every step echoed with doubt.
Khushi whisped softly to herself, voice barely louder than the breeze.
"I shouldn't involve him. He's just a little boy… even if he saved me today. Even if… I feel like I've known him forever."
The strange tug in her heart returned — that same pull she felt when he hugged her, when he looked into her eyes. A feeling warm and unsettling, like a forgotten memory knocking from behind a closed door.
She frowned, lost in her thoughts, when suddenly she sensed something — footsteps behind her, slow, deliberate. A man in black glasses was walking in the same direction. Not fast, but close enough to unsettle her.
Khushi's heartbeat stumbled.
Is he following me?
Did someone send him?
Oh God, not again…
Fear curled under her ribs. She picked up her pace.
So did he.
Khushi's breath hitched. Without thinking, she stepped off the pavement — eyes only on escape, not the road.
A loud screech split the air.
Khushi froze as a car halted just inches away, tires burning against asphalt. She stumbled backward, losing balance and fell onto the ground, palms scraping the rough surface.
For a moment, everything was a blur of sound and shock.
The car door flew open.
A man stepped out — tall, sharply dressed, concern carved into his face. His eyes, deep and intense, locked instantly on her. Yuvaan.
The world around her paused as he rushed forward.
"Are you alright?" his voice was firm, urgent — the voice of a protector despite the storm he carried within.
Khushi blinked, stunned, breath uneven. She didn't know this man — yet something about him radiated authority, familiarity… tragedy.
Her gaze lifted to meet his, unaware that fate was bringing two broken worlds face to face for the first time.
And she had no idea she was standing before Kiaan's father.
Khushi brushed the dirt off her palms, cheeks still warm from embarrassment, when Yuvaan offered his hand. For a second, her eyes lifted to his and the world seemed to pause. She couldn't name it, neither could he, but something in that small moment tugged at a forgotten place within both of them. Still, the connection slipped unspoken between them like smoke.
She placed her hand in his, light and unsure. His palm was warm, steady, grounding. Yuvaan pulled her up and immediately withdrew, taking a step back as though distance might protect him from the strange pull he felt.
"What were you thinking?" his voice rose, sharp as the cold air around them. "Crossing in front of my car carelessly. Do you have a death wish?"
Khushi's lips parted in shock as the memory clicked. Yes—Udaipur. The same man. The same annoyed glare. The same heart-in-throat chaos. "You… you're the one who saved me from those goons," she breathed, realization flooding her face.
"And you're the same girl who keeps jumping in front of my car," he retorted, folding his arms.
Khushi, still shaken, pointed toward the pavement where a man in black glasses lurked. Her voice trembled. "He… he was following me."
Yuvaan turned, brows furrowing. The man stood still, head slightly tilted, expression vacant. A moment later he took out a folded white cane and tapped the ground gently as he walked away. Blind.
Yuvaan exhaled, half irritated, half amused. "He isn't following you. He's blind. I've seen him for years."
Khushi's eyes widened, mortified. So she misjudged again. She stared at the retreating man, guilt pricking her conscience.
Yuvaan shifted his gaze to her. "Who are you?" he asked, softer now, but edged with curiosity. "What crime did you commit that you're always running? Always appearing out of nowhere? Always right in the path of my car?"
Khushi's breath hitched. A shadow crossed her mind—a flash of screams, running footsteps, someone grabbing her wrist—memories she never speaks of. She shook them away quickly, as if they'd burn her tongue if spoken aloud.
"I'm no fugitive," she muttered, lifting her chin with a flicker of false confidence. "I'm an aspiring superstar. People like me deal with stalkers all the time. That's why…" she swallowed and forced a smile, "that's why I keep getting chased."
Yuvaan raised a brow, neither believing nor denying her words. "Fine. As you say. But kindly stop crossing paths with me."
Khushi folded her arms. "I'm not fate. If you have a problem, complain to her instead," she retorted with a playful glare. "Ask her to stop throwing me in front of your car, Mister Grumpy."
She turned, her steps quick and dramatic, leaving the scent of jasmine and rebellion behind her.
Yuvaan watched her go, jaw tightening even as something inside him lingered on her presence longer than it should. He shook his head, annoyed at himself more than her.
"Miss Runaway," he muttered under his breath before getting into his car. He drove off, yet couldn't stop glancing at the rearview mirror—as though expecting her silhouette to still be there.
But the road behind him was empty.
And the story was only beginning.
---
To be continued…