Ahaana stared at Vikram, the word *vampire* ringing in her ears.
"No," she whispered, her throat dry. "That's not… You're joking, right?"
Vikram didn't blink. "I'm not."
The silence in the room was deafening.
Ahaana pulled her hand away slowly. Her whole body went rigid. "You're a vampire," she said again, like if she repeated it enough, it would start to make sense. "As in blood-sucking, immortal, Dracula kind of vampire?"
He gave a small nod. "Yes. But I've never harmed a human. Not in over a hundred years. I feed from blood banks, or donors who know what I am. I made a choice a long time ago… to use my powers to protect, not destroy."
Ahaana stood up, pacing now. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"
"I didn't know how," Vikram said, rising too. "I've kept this secret for a century. But when I realized what you are—what you're becoming—I couldn't keep it from you."
"What *I'm* becoming?" she snapped, rounding on him. "You knew I was… this?"
"I suspected," he said gently. "The signs were there. The aggression. The way you changed under the full moon. I've seen it before."
"Seen what before?" Her voice cracked.
"You're a werewolf, Ahaana."
The room tilted. She backed away, gripping the desk. Her chest felt tight. Her breathing quickened.
"No," she said again. "No, that can't be. That's not real. That's something out of horror movies."
Vikram stepped closer. "It's real. Just like I'm real."
"I killed people!" she shouted. "I lost control. I turned into a *thing*. I don't even remember it all—I just… I just woke up covered in blood!"
"And I'm going to help you," he said firmly. "You don't have to go through this alone."
"Why?" Her voice dropped, full of disbelief and pain. "Why would *you* help *me*?"
"Because I see you," Vikram said softly. "And because you remind me of myself when I first turned."
She looked at him, and something cracked inside her. She had felt alone her entire life. Nobody ever cared enough to stay. But here he was—dark, dangerous, centuries old—and he wasn't running away from her.
Not even now.
"Are we enemies?" she asked after a long pause. "I mean… vampires and werewolves. Isn't that the rule?"
He smiled faintly. "That's what the legends say. But I don't care about old rules. I care about *you*."
Her breath caught.
She sat down slowly, her shoulders heavy with everything she was carrying. "It hurts, Vikram. I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself every day. The anger… the instincts… they're louder now. What if one day I can't fight it?"
He sat beside her, not touching her, just there.
"Then I'll fight with you," he said quietly.
She looked at him again, really looked.
His eyes weren't the eyes of a monster. They were full of grief, strength, and something dangerously close to love.
"I don't know how to be… normal," she whispered.
"You don't have to be normal," Vikram said. "You just have to be *you*. And learn to control what you are."
Ahaana's voice was barely audible. "You really think I can?"
"I *know* you can."
And just like that, a small flicker of hope lit in her chest.
She didn't say anything else that night. Neither did he.
They just sat together—in silence, in truth, in the beginning of something neither of them fully understood yet.
But for the first time in a long time, Ahaana didn't feel alone.