Vanya Samar Malhotra knelt by a pile of firewood, her delicate hands dusted in bark and earth. The warehouse was quiet, the stillness broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of seabirds. Then, the tension in the air shifted. A presence. Heavy. Fierce.
Zian stepped into view.
Startled, Vanya straightened, clutching a stick unconsciously like a shield. They spoke at once words tangled in urgency, clashing like waves on jagged rocks. Then silence. He looked at her, guilt shadowing his sharp features.
“I didn’t want you to come here,” Zian began, voice gravel-thick. “Not into this place. Not into Atharv’s life. But fate… it’s untamed.”
Vanya's eyes softened. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I know you saved my life,” he continued, jaw tight, “but I also know… your hand…”
H
