Chapter 4- A NEW PATH TAKEN.
Both of them, in their separate rooms-worlds apart, yet fatefully entangled-felt it in their very blood: the unmistakable weight of a storm looming on the horizon.
But this was no ordinary storm.
It was war in disguise.
THE NEXT MORNING
Pari Shah sat still on the edge of her bed, her fingers unconsciously curled around the edge of her sheets. The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the hotel room floor. But inside her, there was no warmth-only restlessness.
For once, she wasn't getting ready to go somewhere. Instead, she was thinking.
Hard.
Her heart thudded quietly in the silence. Her mind swirled with the events of the previous night-the terrace, the strange confrontation, and most of all, Veer.
Mr. Lee's lies still stung her pride. She had been sent here under false pretenses, manipulated like a pawn on someone else's chessboard. Her first instinct was to leave. Get the next flight back to Seoul. Forget all of it.
But something held her back.
It wasn't logic. It wasn't duty. It wasn't even curiosity, though she had plenty of that.
It was something else-an invisible thread pulling her back to what had happened. To him.
She stood up abruptly, her decision made. She needed answers, closure... something. Maybe she was offering help-maybe she was simply demanding the truth. Even she wasn't sure anymore.
Without hesitation, she made her way down the hotel corridor and stopped in front of Room 304. Veer's room. Her face was impassive, calm, but her heart wasn't.
She rang the bell.
Footsteps shuffled behind the door. It clicked open.
Pari's breath caught.
A woman-mid-thirties, sun-kissed skin, stylishly dressed in vacation wear-stood in the doorway. Her hair was still damp, as if she'd just showered, and she wore a robe. She gave Pari an awkward smile, the kind you give a stranger who looks like she might be in the wrong place.
A long, awkward silence stretched between them.
"Yes, ma'am?" the woman asked politely, though clearly confused. "Can I help you?"
Pari blinked once, then straightened her spine.
"Hi... yeah. I'm looking for someone-Veer. And... his friend or secretary? I don't even know what to call him exactly. I thought this was their room."
The woman's expression twisted into deeper confusion. "I'm sorry-what? I'm not sure who you're talking about. I'm not a guest of anyone. I just checked into this room this morning-it's part of my vacation package. I think you might be mistaken."
Pari's gaze narrowed slightly. "So you didn't meet the men who were staying here before? Veer Singhania? Tall, intense eyes, scar on his jaw?"
"No," the woman said, her voice firm now. "Sorry. I was just told this room was available when I arrived. No mention of previous guests."
Pari's chest tightened. She stepped back, her lips parting-but no words came out.
She'd been expecting something. Anything. A note. A message. A simple "thank you." But instead, she was met with a stranger and the hollow echo of silence.
She gave a brief, polite nod and turned on her heel without saying another word.
Back in her room, the emotions hit her like waves crashing on shore. Confusion, betrayal, frustration. And something else she didn't want to name.
Had they really just... left?
No goodbye, no explanation. Nothing.
She'd only met them two days ago-less than three, actually-but something about the way they'd appeared, the danger they were surrounded in, the strange way her fate had tangled with theirs-it felt bigger than coincidence. It had felt... important.
And now it was over. Like a dream that never belonged to her in the first place.
She noticed it now: the details. Their luggage. It hadn't looked like they were planning to leave so soon. They had packed for a longer stay, and Veer... he didn't strike her as someone who changed plans so easily.
None of it added up.
Still, she tried to let it go.
She sat down and opened her travel app, ready to book a flight back to South Korea. No more running around in the shadows. No more chasing ghosts.
She was done.
SAME DAY - EARLY MORNING (Same Hotel)
A few hours earlier, in a dimly lit Hotel room across the city, Veer stood beside a curtained window, arms crossed, mind racing.
He and Zain had spent half the night in deep discussion, sorting through intel, decoding messages, and reevaluating everything they thought they knew.
One conclusion stood above all:
They had to stay.
The situation was bigger than they'd expected. The people they were chasing had connections deeper than anticipated, and India-especially the area around the restaurant they'd been investigating-was where the pieces of the puzzle began to align.
But the hotel?
It was no longer safe.
"We need to relocate," Zain had said. "Somewhere low-profile. A flat near the alley where that fight broke out. We'll be closer to the target and harder to track."
Veer nodded silently, still staring out the window.
Zain added cautiously, "We'll also need surveillance. We can't afford another surprise attack. I've arranged for some gear-shipped in from overseas."
But Veer wasn't listening fully anymore. Something tugged at the edge of his mind. A face. A voice.
Pari.
He exhaled slowly. "Before we go," he said, "I think I should at least thank her."
Zain's head whipped toward him like he'd heard a bomb go off. "Are you insane? Thank her?"
Veer turned, his jaw set. "She helped us. She could've stayed out of it, but she didn't."
"And what are you going to say?" Zain snapped. "Thank you for rescuing us from an ambush we can't explain? Oh, and by the way, we're spies, fugitives, or whatever the hell she thinks we are."
Veer didn't answer.
Zain took a step closer, lowering his voice. "What if she asks questions, Veer? What if she reports us? What if she's being watched now too?"
Veer clenched his fists. The logical part of him knew Zain was right. Getting close to Pari again-even to thank her-was dangerous. Not just for them, but for her too.
The timing was wrong. The risk was too high.
He turned away from the window. "Fine," he muttered, almost to himself.
AT THE HOTEL ( Present)
Pari Shah was done.
Done with India. Done with the lies. Done with the ever-twisting maze people seemed to enjoy dragging her into.
"I'm not going to look out for anyone again," she muttered to herself coldly, eyes hard as steel as she grabbed her phone. "Especially not here. Not in this goddamn country."
With her jaw clenched, she opened the ride-hailing app, booked a car to the airport, and moved to pack the few things she hadn't already tossed into her luggage. Her hands moved in a mechanical rhythm, emotionless, as if every movement was a dismissal of everything and everyone she'd encountered over the past few days.
Minutes later, she rolled her suitcase down to the hotel lobby. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with finality. At the entrance, a sleek black car pulled up.
She eyed it quickly, distracted, the plate matching the one on her app - or so she thought.
The driver, a wiry man in his late thirties with a polite but stiff smile, stepped out.
"Raj, right? Ride to the airport?" she asked flatly, not even glancing at her phone.
"Yes, ma'am. That's me," he nodded, eyes flickering around nervously before opening the door for her.
She tossed her luggage into the backseat, got in without a word, and crossed her arms. The atmosphere inside the car was thick. Her silence was louder than any music.
The driver adjusted his rearview mirror. "Uh... nice day, ma'am."
Pari's eyes remained glued to the window.
"Does everyone in India just assume every stranger is an extrovert or part of their extended family?" she snapped. "Is there some law that says I have to talk to you?"
Her voice was cold. Firm. Absolute.
"Just drive."
The driver gulped, muttering under his breath, "Oof. Rude."
But he followed her command without another word, the wheels of the car rolling into motion.
Fifteen minutes passed. The roads grew narrower. The buildings unfamiliar. Concrete gave way to winding lanes and scattered construction sites.
Pari, still lost in thoughts of betrayal and broken trust, barely noticed. But then, something tugged at her instincts.
She glanced at the app again.
25 minutes to the airport, it had said.
They should be nearly there... but they weren't even close.
"Excuse me," she asked, removing one earbud. "Why is this taking longer than expected?"
The driver didn't turn around. "There's road construction near the highway, ma'am. Had to take a longer route."
Pari frowned but said nothing. She replaced her earbud and looked away, telling herself not to overthink. Her thoughts drifted back to him - the intense eye contact, the chaos, the rooftop, the fire alarm.
But then, the car rolled to a halt.
They had stopped - not at the airport, not even near one. But near a large, derelict building with no signage.
"I'll just be a minute," the driver said, opening the door. "Need to get some water."
Pari, half-heartedly nodding, barely looked up. Her mind was still elsewhere.
Until it hit her.
The car. The car was black.
But the app had shown a white car. She was sure of it.
She snatched her phone and blinked at the screen.
The trip had been... cancelled. She never arrived for the original ride.
Her stomach sank.
She looked around.
The door. It wouldn't open.
Locked.
From the outside.
"What the hell...?"
Her breath quickened. She yanked at the handle again. Nothing. Panic crawled up her spine.
"Did I just-? No. No way. I couldn't have been that careless..."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a short, thick wooden stick - heavy enough to break glass. Her fingers tightened around it, ready to smash her way out.
But just then, the door unlocked with a sudden click.
Pari froze, still looking down, prepared to strike.
As the door opened, she lifted her eyes and raised the stick instinctively.
Only to halt mid-motion.
A familiar face stood before her, smiling in a way that instantly annoyed her.
"Easy," the man said, arms raised. "Didn't mean to scare you. Though I was curious to see what you had hidden in your bag."
Pari's expression turned to stone.
"Wow," she said with dripping sarcasm, still gripping the stick. "Was this the only way left, Mr. Sharma? Kidnapping me?"
He let out a chuckle, unbothered. "Technically not kidnapping. Let's call it... persuasive redirection."
"Oh, is this how guests are treated in India now? Blindfold them next time, it'll save time."
The driver stood sheepishly behind him, guilt written all over his face.
Pari narrowed her eyes at the man. "Oh, so he's one of your men too?"
Mr. Sharma shrugged. "Would you have come if I called you?"
Pari exhaled sharply. "Maybe. Or maybe not. But that's not the damn point."
"Okay, okay," he said, raising his palms. "Apologies. But now that you're here, at least have a cup of coffee before you fly off in rage."
She gave him a piercing look.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "But make it quick."
"And sweet," Sharma added with a grin.
"Not a chance," she shot back, dry as ever.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER - INSIDE SHARMA'S OFFICE
The coffee steamed between them. The room smelled like sandalwood and secrets.
"Well, how are you, Pari beta?" Sharma asked softly. "It's been years."
"I'd be better if I wasn't tricked into a back-alley meeting like some spy in a B-grade movie."
Sharma chuckled, unbothered. "Desperate times."
He leaned forward.
"Don't be mad at Mr. Lee. I told him to do this. He's been calling me nonstop ever since you met that man at your Hotel's company. He's worried-"
"Scared, more like," she cut in.
"Maybe. But with good reason. And you won't answer his calls."
Pari looked away. "It's not my Hotel. Not yet."
"Exactly," Sharma said, eyes gleaming. "You're dodging responsibility. You don't want to run the company, not the hospital either. Instead, you're out playing savior to the world."
He leaned back. "Why not join my world for a while? You always loved it, didn't you?"
Pari's face shifted.
"That was when I was a kid," she said. "And now, I have real things to handle. That includes the company, the hospital, and... something else."
Sharma's face softened. "You're still trying to find him."
Her gaze faltered.
"I want to find the killer. That mission is still on. And you know it."
Sharma nodded.
"You've spent over fifteen years chasing ghosts, Pari. And your belief that it was a planned murder-"
"-Is more than belief. It's instinct."
"Then let me help you," he said. "Work with me. Become my secret agent for a few missions. No one will know. You'll stay in control. And in return, I'll help you find him."
Pari stared at him, unreadable.
"So you believe me now... because you need me?" she asked bitterly. "How convenient."
"That's not it. You may not trust me. But you know I have the resources. And you know I'm your best shot."
Silence hung in the air like heavy smoke.
She sipped her coffee. Thought. Then said quietly-
"Fine. I'll do it. Not for you. For me."
Sharma smiled.
"But I work my way."
He grinned wider. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
MEANWHILE - EARLIER THAT MORNING
Veer adjusted the cuffs of his blazer as he stepped out of the hotel. Zain followed closely behind, still groggy.
"Listen," Veer said, scanning the street, "Find a place nearby. A place we can stay for a few more weeks. Preferably near the restaurant."
"Got it," Zain nodded. "Where are you going?"
Veer exhaled. "Back to that restaurant. Need to find out who owns it. Maybe someone knows something."
Zain grimaced. "Yikes. Good luck with the food mafia."
Veer shot him a warning glance.
"I heard that."
Zain chuckled nervously. "Okay! I'm gone."
As Zain scurried away, Veer turned and walked toward the restaurant.
When he stepped in, all eyes turned to him.
Not with welcome - but with suspicion.
A woman from the staff stormed up.
"You again?" she snapped. "The one with the fake blazer and the attitude?"
Veer blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You were one of the guys who came here last week to threaten us, weren't you? Now you show up in disguise?"
"This blazer's not fake. It's hand-stitched in France," he muttered, brushing it off. "Look, I'm not here to tear your place apart. I just need to talk to your owner."
The woman didn't budge.
A young waiter stepped forward. "Sir, we could give him the number... of Mahesh sir's daughter."
Veer turned to him. "Who?"
"The owner's daughter. She lives in Mumbai. Works at The KN Royale."
Veer raised an eyebrow. "That's... a five-star, right?"
The waiter nodded.
After some murmured debate with the manager, and reassurances from Veer that he wasn't a criminal, they handed over the number.
Veer slid the phone into his pocket.
Another name. Another thread to pull.
And possibly... another trap to walk into.....