Morning arrived without peace.
Aara woke up with a dull heaviness in her chest, the events of the previous night replaying in fragments—headlights cutting through darkness, Kabir's hand on her elbow, his voice low and commanding. She sat up slowly, pressing her palm against her forehead.
She had asked for distance.
Instead, danger had followed.
And Kabir had stepped in like he always did—uninvited, unavoidable.
She got ready quietly, her movements mechanical. Her mother was in the kitchen, humming softly, unaware of how close fear had come to their lives. Aara watched her for a moment, guilt twisting inside her. Whatever Kabir was involved in, she could no longer pretend it didn't exist. If something happened, it wouldn't be just her who suffered.
That thought hardened her resolve.
---
At the office, Kabir was already in his cabin when Aara arrived.
He hadn't slept.
The mirror in his private bathroom reflected a man who looked composed but felt anything but. The warehouse scene still clung to him—the smell of metal, the silence afterward. He washed his hands again, even though there was no blood left.
Aara was safe.
That was the only justification he allowed himself.
When he saw her step into the office, alive, unharmed, something tight in his chest loosened. But she didn't look at him. Not once.
Distance again.
And this time, it felt deliberate.
---
Aara spent the first half of the day avoiding Kabir entirely. She communicated through emails, passed files through assistants, and chose routes that kept her far from his cabin. But by afternoon, she realized avoidance wasn't enough.
She needed clarity.
She walked toward his cabin before she could lose her nerve.
Kabir looked up the moment she entered.
"We need to talk," Aara said.
He gestured for her to sit. "You should be resting today."
"That's not your decision," she replied.
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"What happened last night," she continued, "wasn't normal. People don't just get followed. Men don't just disappear."
Kabir's eyes darkened. "You shouldn't be connecting those dots."
"I don't want secrets anymore," she said firmly. "If being near you puts my family at risk, I deserve to know."
Silence stretched.
Kabir stood and moved closer, stopping at a careful distance. "Your family is safe," he said. "That's not a promise. It's a fact."
"That's not an answer," she said.
"No," he agreed quietly. "It's a boundary."
Aara felt frustration burn behind her eyes. "You don't get to draw all the lines, Kabir."
He looked at her then—not as a man in control, but as someone fighting himself. "If I tell you everything, you won't sleep again," he said. "And I won't be able to protect you."
Her voice softened despite herself. "Maybe I don't want protection at that price."
Kabir didn't reply.
Because he already knew—he would pay any price.
---
That evening, Rahul met Kabir on the terrace.
"She's pushing back," Rahul said.
Kabir nodded. "Good."
Rahul studied him. "That doesn't sound convincing."
"She should push back," Kabir said again. "It means she still has a choice."
"And you?" Rahul asked. "Do you?"
Kabir looked out at the city. "I stopped having choices the moment someone followed her."
Rahul sighed. "This ends badly if you're not careful."
Kabir's voice was flat. "Everything ends badly in my world. I'm just choosing who survives it."
---
Across town, Aara sat with Kavya, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea.
"He won't tell me the truth," Aara said. "But he won't let me go either."
Kavya frowned. "Then you need rules. If he wants to be near you, it has to be on your terms."
Aara nodded slowly. "I'll set boundaries."
"Can he respect them?" Kavya asked.
Aara didn't answer.
---
Late that night, Kabir stood alone again, phone in his hand.
A message waited on the screen.
They'll try again.
Kabir deleted it.
He looked out at the city, eyes cold, mind ruthless.
Aara was trying to draw lines.
The world was preparing to cross them.
And Kabir Rathod would make sure only one side paid the price.