Distance was supposed to protect them.
Instead, it brought Kabir Rathod closer to the truth he had been avoiding.
---
Aara noticed the change before she understood it.
Kabir no longer watched her openly. His presence was quieter now—felt rather than seen. Meetings ended faster when she entered the room. Conversations paused. Decisions shifted subtly around her schedule.
It unsettled her.
And yet… a strange warmth accompanied the unease.
She tried to tell herself it was coincidence. Power did that—people bent around it without question. Kabir Rathod was powerful.
But power alone did not explain the way her name lingered in his silence.
---
At home, Aara's world was simpler.
Her mother, Meera Sharma, ruled the kitchen like a gentle queen, her warmth holding the broken pieces of their family together. Her younger brother, Rishi, was loud, curious, endlessly hopeful.
That evening, they sat on the floor, sharing tea and laughter.
"You're glowing," Rishi teased. "Internship must be good."
Aara smiled, though her mind drifted.
"It's… intense," she admitted.
Meera studied her quietly. "Intensity can teach us who we are. Or who we must stay away from."
Aara didn't reply.
Because part of her already knew.
---
Kabir stood in his private gym long after midnight, fists slamming into the punching bag with controlled fury.
He wasn't angry.
He was terrified.
Terrified of how easily Aara had slipped past his defenses.
Terrified that he wanted to know her laughter, her fears, her quiet strength.
Terrified because love—real love—was a weakness in his world.
And Kabir Rathod ruled a world that devoured weakness whole.
---
The next day brought rain.
And with it, proximity.
Aara was assigned to assist Kabir during a client presentation—unexpected, unavoidable. She stood beside him, files in hand, heart racing.
Their fingers brushed.
A moment.
Too much.
Kabir inhaled sharply, steadying himself. He could smell rain on her hair. Hear her breath.
He leaned closer—not touching, not retreating.
"Relax," he said softly. "You're doing fine."
The gentleness shocked her more than his authority ever had.
---
Later, as the storm trapped employees inside, Kabir offered her a ride home.
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
The car ride was quiet. Not awkward. Intimate.
"Why are you afraid of me?" Kabir asked suddenly.
Aara's fingers tightened around her bag. "Because everyone else is."
Kabir smiled—but it didn't reach his eyes.
"They're afraid of power," he said. "Not me."
She looked at him then. Really looked.
And for the first time, she saw the loneliness beneath the legend.
---
At home, Meera watched Kabir leave from the doorway.
"He's dangerous," she said calmly.
Aara turned. "You don't even know him."
Meera met her gaze. "I know men who hide storms behind silence."
Aara went to bed conflicted.
---
Kabir didn't sleep.
He stood at his window, city lights blinking like warning signals.
Rahul's voice echoed in his mind: If she finds out who you really are…
Kabir clenched his jaw.
He had buried bodies. Broken empires. Ordered deaths.
And yet the thought of Aara seeing that side of him—
That terrified him more than any enemy ever had.
---
The next morning, Kabir made a decision.
If loving her meant danger—
He would become the danger.
But never to her.
He would protect her from the world.
Even if the world needed protection from him.
---
Across the city, Aara stood by her window, sunlight warming her face.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
She was getting closer.
Too close.
And something deep inside warned her—
Fire did not burn gently.
Yet she was already standing in its glow.