Mahira didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was scared. Not even because she was curious.
But because the air around her didn't feel like hers anymore.
She changed into her soft cotton night suit, let her hair down, and stared at the fan spinning above — slow, restless. Like her thoughts.
That stranger — Zaroon — hadn't touched her, hadn't asked her name.
But he'd left something behind.
> A gaze. A sentence. A shadow.
> "Tum woh ho jo kisi ki kahani ka shuruat ban sakti ho... ya barbaadi."
Who even says that?
Who looks at someone and talks like he's writing fate, not flirting?
And why, why did a part of her… like it?
> "Stop it, Mahira," she whispered to herself, flipping the pillow.
But her heart didn't stop.
Because no one had ever looked at her like she was a beginning and an end — at the same time.
---
The Next Morning....
The sky was clear.
No trace of the storm that had introduced him.
But Mahira wasn't fooled. Some storms don't show outside.
She tied her hair in a messy bun, slipped on her faded blue jeans and plain white kurti. No kajal today. No lipstick.
> Normal day. Normal girl. Normal walk to class.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out of her flat.
But halfway to the university gate, her chest tightened.
> That haveli. That old arch.
Empty.
> Good.
Or… not?
---
🎓 University Campus
She walked across the lawn toward her class building. Music played softly from someone's Bluetooth speaker. Girls laughed near the benches. Seniors leaned against bikes.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
She kept walking — until she passed the garden wall.
> And paused.
Someone was sitting there. Alone. Back straight. Black shirt. One leg crossed casually over the other.
Reading a book. Yes, a damn book.
But it wasn't the book she saw.
It was him.
Zaroon.
Her breath caught, but she didn't stop walking this time.
He didn't look up.
> Or maybe he did — just not in a way anyone else noticed.
She kept walking. Past him. Past the wall. Into her class. Sat down.
But her mind?
> Still outside.
Still under that gaze she couldn't feel, but couldn't forget.
---
🕯️ After Class
She thought maybe it was a coincidence. A chance. A glitch in the universe.
Until she stepped out and found a folded piece of black paper tucked into the side pocket of her bag.
> Not the front. Not obvious.
The side. Quiet. Meant to be found later.
Her heart skipped.
She opened it.
One line.
Written in dark ink. Neat, sharp handwriting.
> "I saw you stop breathing. That's how I knew it was you."
No name. No signature.
But she didn't need one.
It was him.
---
✨ End of Chapter Two