The next time the door opened, Aarohi was ready.
Not calm.
Not fearless.
But ready enough to stand before anyone else could tell her to.
Veer stepped inside alone this time.
No guards.
No noise.
Just that same controlled presence that seemed to shift the air around him.
Aarohi crossed her arms slightly. "You're making a habit of this."
His gaze moved over her briefly, as if noting something, before settling back on her face.
"You've had time to think," he said.
"That depends," she replied. "Was I supposed to come to a conclusion?"
A faint pause.
Then—
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
Aarohi exhaled slowly. "Then maybe you should tell me what the question is first."
Veer stepped further into the room, stopping at a distance that felt intentional—not too close, not too far.
"You're here because of a debt," he said. "A large one."
"I'm aware."
"And that debt doesn't disappear just because you don't owe it personally."
Her jaw tightened slightly. "So what—you expect me to pay for someone else's mistakes?"
"I expect you to understand your position."
The words landed clean and sharp.
Aarohi didn't look away. "And what exactly is my position?"
Veer held her gaze for a moment before answering.
"You have two options."
Silence filled the space.
"First," he continued, "you remain here, doing nothing, waiting for others to decide what to do with you."
Aarohi's stomach tightened.
That option didn't feel like one.
"The second?"
Veer's tone didn't change.
"You work."
A pause.
Aarohi frowned slightly. "Work how?"
"At the club."
The answer was direct.
Not suggestive.
Not unclear.
Aarohi studied him carefully, trying to read between the lines. "Doing what?"
"Nothing you don't agree to," he said.
That made her pause.
It wasn't reassurance.
But it wasn't what she expected either.
"You'll serve, assist, learn how things run," he added. "You earn. The debt reduces."
Aarohi let out a quiet breath, her thoughts racing.
"And if I refuse?"
Veer didn't hesitate.
"Then you go back to the first option."
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
Aarohi looked away for a brief second, processing.
This wasn't freedom.
But it wasn't complete helplessness either.
It was something in between.
Which made it harder.
"You're not doing this to help me," she said finally.
"No."
The honesty didn't surprise her.
"Then why?"
Veer's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Because I don't keep liabilities that don't serve a purpose."
Aarohi almost smiled—cold, brief.
"So I'm an investment now."
"If you choose to be."
Another pause.
This one longer.
More personal.
Aarohi looked at him again, her expression steady despite everything moving inside her.
"What happens if I fail?"
Veer's answer came without hesitation.
"You don't."
The certainty in his voice wasn't encouraging.
It was a warning.
Aarohi inhaled slowly, then straightened just a little.
"Fine," she said.
The word settled into the room like a quiet decision.
"I'll work."
Veer watched her for a moment longer, as if confirming something unspoken.
Then he nodded once.
"Good."
He turned toward the door, but stopped before leaving.
"You start tonight."
Aarohi's eyes narrowed slightly. "That soon?"
"This world doesn't wait."
With that, he stepped out.
The door closed behind him, leaving Aarohi alone again—but not the same as before.
She wasn't just waiting anymore.
She was part of something now.
Not by choice.
But not entirely without one either.
Aarohi exhaled slowly, her hands curling slightly at her sides.
Work.
Debt.
Control.
If this was the only way forward—
Then she would learn fast.
Because in this place—
Survival wasn't given.
It was earned.