Kaya looked at him from head to toe, her expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic flair, she placed her hand on her chin—like she was seriously weighing something important.
Seeing this, Veer waited, and waited, lips puffed into a hopeful pout. And just like that, he got her silent approval to stay for a few days.
But what Kaya didn't know… was that even if she had refused, Veer couldn't have left.
.
.
.
A few days ago, back in the warmth of his cave—where fire crackled on the walls and the heat still clung to his skin—Veer had been in a deep sleep. But suddenly, his heart jolted. A tremor. A warning. Something terrible had happened.
He had shot up from his slumber, scanning the cave. Everything was there—food, supplies, even a few live animals he'd caught earlier. Nothing was out of place.
So why did his chest ache with unease?
And then, uninvited and vivid—Kaya's image burned behind his eyelids.
Not food. Not safety. Kaya.
