The party was over, but its echoes refused to leave.
Laughter still rang faintly in Aara's ears, mixed with the music, the clinking glasses, and—most disturbingly—Kabir's eyes on her. Even now, back in the quiet of her room, she could feel that gaze. Heavy. Possessive. Unforgiving.
She sat on the edge of her bed, heels discarded, fingers tangled in the fabric of her dress.
She had kept her distance on purpose.
Every time Kabir had stepped closer at the party, she had moved away. Every time his presence loomed beside her, she had turned toward someone else. Not out of cruelty—but fear.
Fear of how easily he affected her.
Fear of how difficult it was to breathe when he was near.
And Kabir had noticed.
Of course he had.
---
Aara's POV
Why does he look at me like that?
Not like a man merely interested—but like someone who already owns the answer to a question she hadn't asked yet.
At the party, she had seen the shift in him.
The tightening of his jaw.
The way his smile disappeared whenever she laughed with someone else.
The cold edge in his eyes when another man stood a little too close.
It unsettled her.
Kabir Rathod wasn't just intense—he was controlled intensity. And when that control cracked, even slightly, it felt dangerous.
She hugged her arms around herself.
Distance is necessary, she told herself.
Before I lose myself completely.
---
Kabir's POV
Kabir stood alone on the balcony of his house, the city stretched beneath him like a living, breathing beast. The party had ended hours ago—but the anger hadn't.
Aara had ignored him.
Not accidentally.
Not unknowingly.
Deliberately.
Every step she took away from him at the party felt like a challenge. Every smile she offered someone else felt like a blade pressed against his patience.
He exhaled slowly, fingers curling around the railing.
She thinks distance will protect her.
The thought almost made him smile—darkly.
What she didn't understand was this: distance didn't weaken his obsession. It sharpened it.
He wasn't angry because she ignored him.
He was angry because she could.
And because it mattered.
Too much.
---
Rahul & Kavya
Elsewhere, Rahul drove in silence, Kavya sitting beside him, arms crossed, staring out the window. The tension between them was familiar—yet heavier tonight.
"You were quiet at the party," Rahul finally said.
Kavya scoffed. "Funny. I could say the same about you."
Rahul glanced at her. "You were watching Kabir."
Kavya turned sharply. "And you weren't watching Aara?"
Silence answered.
Kavya sighed. "Something is wrong, Rahul. Kabir isn't just interested—he's consumed."
Rahul's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "That's what scares me."
"And Aara?" Kavya asked softly. "She's pretending she doesn't feel it. But she does."
Rahul nodded once. "And Kabir pretending control is even worse."
Neither of them said what both were thinking—
This wasn't a harmless attraction anymore.
---
Kabir
Later that night, Kabir sat in his study, shadows clinging to the walls like secrets. Files lay open on his desk—business reports, numbers, names—but none of it held his attention.
His phone lay face down.
He hadn't messaged her.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because if he did, he wasn't sure he'd stop.
She pulled away today, he thought.
That means she's starting to see the cracks.
And cracks were dangerous.
His underworld connections, the deals made in darkness, the enemies who watched silently—none of it could ever touch Aara.
That had been his rule.
But the closer she came, the harder it became to protect her without controlling everything around her.
Including her choices.
Kabir leaned back, eyes closing briefly.
I can't let her walk away.
The thought was instinctive. Final.
---
Aara
Across the city, Aara stood by her window, watching the streetlights flicker below. Her phone buzzed.
Her heart jumped—then stilled.
No message from Kabir.
She didn't know whether she felt relieved or disappointed.
This is good, she told herself again.
Silence is safer.
But deep inside, a quiet voice whispered—
Silence doesn't erase what's already begun.
She turned away from the window, unaware that somewhere, Kabir was staring at the same city, thinking only of her.
And neither of them realized it yet—
The party wasn't the breaking point.
It was the beginning of the fall.