After wrapping up their usual tuition session, Arun and Abhi made their way to the counter. It was routine—comforting, even. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air.
The server brought Abhi's daily dessert, a small indulgence he never skipped.
With the treats in hand, they headed for the doors.
Arun pushed the café's carved wooden door open, eager for the crisp evening air.
While Abhi trailed behind, fighting off the drowsiness clouding his eyes.
Then—
A deafening gunshot ripped through the air.
Arun recoiled, his body jerking back just in time to avoid the bullet that sliced through the space where he had been standing.
Without a thought, Arun's arm shot out across Abhi's chest, halting him.
"Stay back," he hissed.
Abhi froze, confusion flickering in his half-sleepy eyes, but the tension in Arun's grip was enough to keep him still.
The café fell silent. Conversations died mid-sentence. Patrons stared wide-eyed, breaths held. The staff, moments ago in motion, now stood rooted, fear etched across their faces.
Through the glass windows, Arun saw them—men in black—armed, masked, eyes like frozen steel—shifting into position, eyes scanning for a clear shot.
He could feel it: They were preparing to fire again
The fear wasn't what gripped him. No—what steadied him was the cold, focused clarity of someone who had been in danger before.
He couldn't let panic consume the room. He scanned quickly. Then he spotted it—tucked in a far corner near the counter—A door.
Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on Abhi's wrist.
"Come," he muttered, already pulling him toward it.
They slipped through as quietly as possible.
The door led into the kitchen—empty now, the staff having scattered.
Abhi followed without resistance, though his attention was caught not by the danger, but by the small box of cake now lying abandoned on the café floor.
His gaze lingered on it for a moment—sadness shadowing his face—before they moved on.
From their position, they had a clear line of sight to the front.
...
Three armed men entered the café, moving with precision.
Arun's voice was low, steady.
"You'll be safe here. I need to take them out to keep the others safe."
He started to release Abhi's wrist.
But before he could, Abhi's fingers tightened, stopping him cold.
Arun met his eyes—and froze at what he saw there. Calm. Determination. Fire.
"It's more dangerous to be safe without you," Abhi said firmly.
Arun's heart skipped. He wanted to argue—but there wasn't time.
Slowly, he nodded, tightening his hold once more.
"Then let's do it together."
---
The kitchen door slammed shut behind them with a sharp, deliberate bang.
They had a plan—draw the attackers toward them.
The sound cut through the air. The men turned instantly, boots pounding toward the noise.
But when they reached the threshold, expecting prey—there was only darkness.
One man stepped forward cautiously.
In the next instant, pain tore through his arm. His gun clattered to the ground.
A blade pressed cold and unforgiving against his neck—then slid in one swift, practiced motion.
He collapsed without a sound.
The remaining two stepped back, fear cracking through their composure.
From the darkness, Arun emerged—calm, cold, knife dripping red.
Behind him, Abhi followed, the fallen man's gun steady in his grasp. His movements were fluid, his aim unshaken.
The attackers began to retreat, but Abhi's gaze locked onto them.
A slow, dangerous grin curved his lips.
"Your courage should be rewarded."
The shot rang out. A perfect mark—dead center in the forehead. The man crumpled instantly.
Then, Another.
Arun's eyes lingered on Abhi—no shock, only the quiet acknowledgment of a side he'd seen before.
Once Abhi decided something, there was no hesitation. No regret. And he knew that perfectly.
[ At the University ]
Aarav and Ayan stepped through the university gate, the nearly empty campus fading behind them.
Aarav's gaze stayed locked on Ayan, unblinking, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
"So, how was your exam?"
Ayan basked in the warmth of that gaze, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.
"Good," he replied with a shy smile.
The moment felt endless—until Aarav's senses sharpened.
Something was wrong.
He felt it before he saw it—an unfamiliar presence closing in from behind. His body tensed, instincts flaring.
Then came the faintest brush of a cold barrel, almost unnoticeable, yet enough to confirm the danger.
Without hesitation, Aarav spun. His movements were swift—decisive. In one motion, he caught the stranger's wrist in an iron grip.
The man flinched as numbness shot up his arm, his hold on the gun faltering. Fingers trembled under Aarav's unyielding strength.
Aarav snatched the weapon away and pressed it firmly against the man's forehead. His hand didn't waver. His eyes burned—cold, sharp, and dangerous.
"Who sent you?"
The air grew heavy.
Before the man could speak, hurried footsteps pounded across the pavement.
Vihan and Karan appeared, sprinting from the university. Their eyes widened at the sight: Aarav with a gun pressed to a trembling stranger's head.
Beside them, Ayan stood frozen—gone was the soft blush and shy smile.
His eyes were wide, startled. Panic crept in, trembling through his frame. His breaths were uneven, shallow, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing.
"Ayan…Are you ok?" Vihan's voice carried both urgency and concern.
Aarav's head snapped toward Ayan, his hard expression softening instantly. Concern replaced the fire in his gaze.
Suddenly—a gunshot ripped through the air.
The sound was deafening.
The man in Aarav's grip collapsed to the ground, lifeless, and the fragile balance of the moment shattered into chaos.
But Aarav wasn't the one to shot him.
---
Simultaneously, Arun and Abhi arrived at the alley, their footsteps purposeful.
They saw the crowd near the gate—and the tension hit them like a wall.
Without pause, they closed the distance, urgency matching the weight of what they were walking into.
Arun's gaze went straight to Ayan. The rest of the scene blurred away.
Ayan stood trembling, fear etched deep into his features.
Arun's chest tightened. He moved to him, his steps steady, and placed both hands gently on his shoulders.
Before Arun could speak, Vihan cut in, voice quick but controlled.
"Senior, someone attacked him. We were just protecting him."
Arun barely registered the explanation. His eyes stayed on Ayan, his voice soft, steady—made to anchor him.
"Ayan... It's okay… everything's fine now. I'm here."
---
They walked toward the car together, their movements slow, weighted by the moment.
Behind them, worry hung heavy in the air, but Aarav seemed the most shaken.
He didn't move.
His usual sharpness had crumbled into something hollow, his eyes fixed in the direction Ayan had gone, as though willing him to return.
Abhi stood a short distance away, his expression unreadable. Something about the scene nagged at him, as though an invisible thread was being pulled tight in the back of his mind.
And in the quiet of his thoughts, the words he had spoken back in the café echoed again—
and this time, they felt like a warning.