The heart always knows before the mind does.
Kiran's eyes snapped open.
She sucked in a sharp breath and bolted upright, her palm slamming against her chest. Her heart was going too fast—too wrong. Not the curse's usual dull, brutal ache, but a jagged, off-beat stab that stole the air from her lungs.
Cold crawled along her spine.
Kiran whipped around, searching the shadows of her room as if she'd catch someone standing there. But there was nothing no movement, no whisper, no figure by the window. The curtains hung limp. The air was thick and still.
That damn dream. Again.
She shoved sweat-matted hair off her forehead and forced herself to breathe through the tremor in her ribs. Three nights in a row. Three nights of the same place, the same wrongness like her mind had been dragged back to somewhere it recognized even if she didn't.
An ancient stone chamber. Candles flickering like they were afraid. A circle on the floor, slick with something darker than ink. Words spilling from her mouth in a language she'd never learned—yet her tongue shaped them like it belonged there.
And him.
Those eyes—stormy-dark eyes, heavy with something that made her stomach drop. His face looked carved, impossible, the kind of beauty that didn't feel safe. He stood motionless, tall and marble-still, watching her with an icy patience… like he had all the time in the world.
Like he'd been waiting for her.
"Pull it together, Kiran," she muttered, more prayer than command.
As she swung her legs out of bed. The dream clung to her skin like smoke, as if the air in that chamber had followed her home. That place felt ancient, older than anything in her life.
So why did it hum with familiarity?
Her chest answered with a warning throb. The curse—quiet, relentless, always there. Some days it pressed like a heavy hand. Other days it sliced sharp enough to make her see spots.
Doctors used gentle voices when they ran out of answers.
Avoid stress.
Get more rest.
As if she could rest her way out of a countdown.
Kiran dressed quickly then headed downstairs before her thoughts could spiral into panic.
§***
The kitchen hit her with its usual morning noise: coffee, clattering dishes, her brother arguing with their mom over something stupid, and her dad half-there behind his phone.
"Morning," Kiran mumbled, grabbing an orange.
Her mom looked up—and her face tightened instantly. "You look exhausted, baby."
"I'm fine."
"You're always fine," her mom said softly, and the fear behind the words made Kiran's throat go tight.
That fear had lived in their house for years. Hospital waiting rooms. Late-night scares. A daughter's heart that didn't behave like a heart should.
Kiran reached for her practiced smile, bright and bulletproof. "I'm okay, Ma. I promise."
Her mom didn't look convinced, but she let Kiran lean in and kiss her cheek anyway.
"Love you," Kiran said, already grabbing her bag.
"Be careful!" her mom called after her, automatic as breathing.
Kiran didn't turn back. If she did, she'd have to answer. And some lies lodged like bones in the throat.
§***
The Grand Hotel lobby dazzled the way it always did—marble floors polished to mirrors, a chandelier that threw light like a crown, and guests who moved through it all like Kiran was invisible so much as part of the building.
She didn't mind.
Work was simple. Easy and conducive. At least here, nobody asked her to explain her pain.
"Morning, Kareen!"
Kiran rolled her eyes before she even turned.
Jace lounged at the reception desk like he owned it, his silver hair artfully messy, warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners with that smug, sunny grin. He looked like someone who had never had to force a smile in his life.
"It's Kiran," she said, slow and pointed. "Ki-ran. Not that hard, Jacy."
"Jacy?" he echoed, eyebrows lifting.
Kiran pitched her voice into a perfect imitation. "Morning, jacy."
Jace laughed—loud, contagious, irritatingly charming. "Okay. Fine. You got me."
"Obviously."
He leaned closer, dropping his voice like he had a secret. "You look… vibrant today."
"Vibrant?" She stared at him.
"By vibrant," he clarified quickly, "I mean you don't look like you died and came back overnight."
"The bar is in hell," she said flatly.
"At least you know where it is."
Kiran snorted, despite herself. Idiot.
Two years of the same dance: him teasing, her pretending she hated it, and both of them knowing she didn't.
Then a sharp voice sliced through the lobby.
"Kiran. My office. Now."
Kiran's stomach dropped.
Mrs. Chen stood near the hallway in a crisp blazer and a crisp expression, her smile as cold as the marble floor.
Jace's grin faded. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," Kiran muttered. "Which means I'm about to get blamed for something."
She walked toward the office with that familiar sinking feeling in her gut.
§***
It was a guest complaint—Room 204. "Not cleaned properly."
Kiran knew that room. She had cleaned it herself. Towels folded. Sheets tucked tightly. Mirror polished until it shone. She even remembered the woman watched her the whole time, hawk-eyed and suspicious, as if Kiran's hands were capable of stealing the air.
"She says you were rude," Mrs. Chen said, tapping the form.
"I wasn't."
"It's her word against yours," Mrs. Chen replied, voice mild with cruelty. "One more complaint and you're on probation."
Heat burned behind Kiran's eyes. Humiliation. Rage. Exhaustion.
She swallowed it all.
"Yes, ma'am," she said, because saying anything else would only make it worse.
When she walked out, her nails were biting crescents into her palms.
She was fuming,with anger.
She stopped midway in the hallway,taking a deep breath before wearing her practiced perfect smile.
§***
By the time her shift ended, the city had sunk into evening. The sky was deepening to that bruised blue where lights looked sharper and shadows looked meaner.
Kiran's feet ached. Her head throbbed. Even her heart felt tired, like it was dragging itself forward out of pure stubbornness.
She took the service stairs to the rooftop.
It was her place—small, forgotten, quiet. Up here the skyline glittered far away, and the world felt smaller and manageable.
Kiran leaned against the railing and stared into the open dark.
Life has a way of…
She didn't know how to finish it. Breaking you? Mocking you? Punishing you for hoping?
"It's rough, huh?"
She turned.
Jace stood by the door, hands in his pockets, the last of the sunset catching in his hair. His smile wasn't cocky now. Just… soft.
Kiran faced the view again. "Nah. It's just life. Life is… blah."
"Blah?" he asked, amused.
"Blah," she repeated, waving a hand vaguely. "You make plans and reality shows up with a bat."
"Profound," Jace said.
"Bite me."
His laugh was quiet, warm. The silence that followed didn't feel awkward. With him, it never did.
Then his voice shifted—gentler, careful. "You okay? For real."
Kiran turned and put on her best smile. Pretty. Bright. The one that said Don't look deeper.
"Pretty face, pretty smile," she said. "What's not to be okay about?"
Jace held her gaze too long, like he could see every crack beneath the shine. Then he let it go.
"Fair," he said.
Stars began to prick the sky.
"Brightest one?" Kiran asked. "What's it called?"
"Sirius," Jace answered immediately. "The Dog Star. Canis Major."
She stared at him. "How do you just know that?"
He shrugged. "I'm full of surprises."
"Nerd."she said.
"Takes one to know one."
Kiran laughed—real this time. The laugh that loosened something tight inside her chest. When she glanced at him, she caught that softness in his eyes again.
He looked away like he hadn't meant to.
They stayed up there until the city below looked like scattered jewels and the night felt almost kind.
When the silence returned, Kiran turned to him. "Thanks, Jace."
"Hm?"
She stepped in and hugged him quick, warm, sincere. "You fixed me. Best friend ever."
His body went stiff.
Just for a fraction of a second. But she felt it. The way his breath caught. The way he didn't hug her back, not really.
When she pulled away, his face was faintly red even in the low light.
"Uh… yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Friends. Right."
He backed toward the door as if distance was suddenly necessary. "Long day tomorrow. You should get home early."
"Jace…"
He was already gone. The door shut with a soft clang.
Kiran stared at the empty space he'd left behind.
What was that about?
Wind was the only answer.
§***
She took the dark, quick alley on her way home and exactly the route her mom hated. Kiran kept her keys between her fingers, her steps fast, her thoughts caught on Jace's sudden retreat.
Did I do something wrong?
Her heart twitched.
Kiran's pace slowed, catching her breath.
Another twitch—harder this time.
Then it wasn't a twitch. It was a pull.
Like an invisible hook had sunk into her chest and yanked it.
"What the…"
The alley blurred. Sound drained out, like the world had been shoved underwater. Her knees buckled.
The pull tightened, vicious and undeniable...
And darkness swallowed her whole.
§***
Stone.
Cold air.
Candlelight shivering against ancient walls.
Kiran's breath ripped in as she stumbled, hands flying out as if to steady herself. Her feet found floor inside the chamber from her dreams.
No.
This can't be real.
The circle on the ground pulsed faintly, as if the lines were alive. The air tasted like smoke and iron.
And he was there.
Tall.
Still.
Watching exactly as he had in her dreams, only now the cold coming off him was real enough to raise goosebumps on her skin.
His eyes locked onto hers.
A slow smile ghosted across his mouth, like he'd won something.
"Kiran," he said, voice low like velvet over a blade. "You've come at last."
Her heart slammed against her ribs, half curse, half terror. "Who are you? And where am I?"
He took one step closer. The candles flared as if answering him.
"You and I are... he trailed off .
Time is running thin woman."
The walls seemed to breathe. The stone shimmered at the edges—like the room itself was fraying.
"You and I are what?"
Kiran asked,as tried to step back, but the air felt thick, resisting her movement. The pull in her chest tightened again, a cruel reminder that whatever brought her here could take her apart just as easily.
"Destiny," he murmured, his eyes dark as storms.
The chamber twisted—
And Kiran gasped upright in her bed.
Her sheets soaked with sweat. Her breath ragged from fear. Her heart hammering the curse's familiar, brutal rhythm.
Her clock glowed: 3:00 A.M.
For a moment she lay there shaking, staring at the ceiling, telling herself it had been another dream.