The night grew heavier as the hours passed.
Aarohi had started to understand the rhythm of the place—the way conversations shifted, the way tension rose and fell, the way certain people carried more weight than others.
But understanding didn't make it easier.
It only made her more aware.
"Table seven," Rhea said, placing another tray in her hands.
Aarohi nodded and moved, her steps steady despite the exhaustion creeping into her bones. The music was louder now, the crowd thicker, the air heavier with something she couldn't quite name.
She reached the table.
Three men.
Louder than the others.
Careless.
That was the first warning.
"Drinks," she said briefly, placing the glasses down.
One of them leaned back, his eyes lingering on her longer than necessary.
"Well, that's new," he said, his tone slow, deliberate. "Haven't seen you here before."
Aarohi didn't respond.
She turned to leave.
A hand caught her wrist.
Not tight.
But enough.
"Don't rush," he added, a smirk forming. "Stay a while."
Aarohi's body went still—not frozen, but controlled.
"Let go," she said, her voice low and even.
The man tilted his head slightly, amused. "Or what?"
The other two watched, entertained.
Wrong kind of attention.
Aarohi pulled her hand back sharply. "I said let go."
This time, the smirk faded slightly.
Something darker replaced it.
"Careful," he said, standing up slowly. "You don't want to create problems for yourself."
Aarohi met his gaze, her pulse rising but her expression steady. "Then don't be one."
That was enough.
His hand tightened again, pulling her a step closer.
"Come," he said quietly, leaning in. "We'll talk somewhere more private."
The words sent a clear signal.
This wasn't a suggestion.
Before Aarohi could react—
The grip disappeared.
So suddenly that she stumbled back slightly.
The man's expression changed instantly.
Not confused.
Not angry.
Worried.
Aarohi followed his line of sight.
Veer Khanna stood behind him.
Silent.
Still.
But the air had changed completely.
The music didn't stop—but it felt like it did.
"Let me explain—" the man started quickly.
Veer didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
The next moment was fast.
A sharp movement.
A solid impact.
The man staggered back as Veer's punch landed clean, precise—not wild, not emotional, but controlled.
The room shifted.
People noticed.
But no one intervened.
No one ever did.
Veer stepped closer, his expression calm, almost detached.
"If you don't understand the difference," he said quietly, "you don't belong here."
The man nodded quickly, fear replacing whatever confidence he had before. "It won't happen again."
"It won't," Veer agreed.
The finality in his voice made it clear.
This wasn't a warning.
It was a conclusion.
He turned slightly, dismissing the situation as if it no longer mattered.
But Aarohi knew better.
Everything here mattered.
Their eyes met briefly.
No softness.
No reassurance.
Just awareness.
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Aarohi stood still for a moment, her heartbeat still uneven, her mind catching up with what had just happened.
Rhea appeared beside her. "You're fine?"
Aarohi nodded once.
"I need a break," she said.
Rhea studied her, then gestured toward the bar. "Five minutes."
Aarohi didn't argue.
She moved toward the counter, her hands slightly unsteady now that the moment had passed.
"Drink?" the bartender asked.
She hesitated.
Then, "Something strong."
The glass was placed in front of her.
Aarohi stared at it for a second before picking it up.
The burn hit instantly—but she didn't stop.
Not because she enjoyed it.
But because it gave her something else to focus on.
Something simpler than everything happening around her.
From across the room, Veer stood near the far end of the bar now, a glass in his hand.
Untouched.
Watching.
Not her specifically.
But not not her either.
Aarohi set her glass down slowly.
This place wasn't just dangerous because of people like that man.
It was dangerous because of people like him.
Controlled.
Decisive.
Unpredictable.
And somehow—
She had just become part of his world in a way she couldn't ignore anymore.