Kashyap Mansion – Courtyard, Later That Night
The soft bounce of the basketball echoed through the courtyard again, but this time it was different—less aggressive, more playful.
Sahir weaved past Mihir with a sly grin. "Too slow."
Mihir scoffed, recovering quickly. "You cheated. You nudged me."
"It's called defense."
"It's called desperation."
"Keep telling yourself that when you're losing," Sahir teased, stepping back and sinking a clean shot.
"Three–two," he added casually.
Mihir caught the rebound. "Only because I let you. You always got lucky with threes."
"Or maybe you always blamed luck whenever I won."
They circled each other like they had done in childhood—neither admitting it, but both enjoying it. The tension of the concert, the chaos, the unspoken rivalry—it had thinned, replaced with a natural rhythm they hadn't shared in years.
Unseen from the hallway steps, Sapna stood in her night shawl, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes fixed on her sons with quiet joy.
"Look at them..." she whispered, her voice thick. "Just for a moment, it's like they're boys again. Sahir with his soft smile, Mihir pretending not to smile back."
Moti Baa, standing beside her, placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Hawa badal rahi hai, Sapna. The storm that tore them apart... maybe it's shifting now."
Sapna blinked rapidly, emotion catching in her throat. "Do you know how long I've prayed for this, Baa? For them to just... talk. Not as enemies. Not as strangers. But as brothers."
Moti Baa smiled, warm and wise. "The blood they share is deeper than the shadow that changed them. And they're starting to remember that."
Sapna wiped her eyes quickly, as if afraid the boys might catch her watching.
On the court, Mihir landed a shot and raised both hands. "And that makes it four-three. Your lead's dead."
Sahir rolled his eyes. "Typical. You only show off when you're being watched."
Mihir paused. His gaze flicked—just for a second—toward the hallway.
He saw her.
Their mother.
He didn't wave. Didn't smile.
But his shot softened. "Maybe."
Sahir followed his glance, saw Sapna too. And without a word, passed the ball back to Mihir.
"First to five, right?"
Mihir caught it. "Let's go."
As they resumed their quiet rivalry, Sapna leaned gently against the pillar, her voice low. "Maybe tonight, I won't cry myself to sleep."
Moti Baa's fingers curled around hers. "Maybe tonight... you won't need to."
Teju's Hostel Room – Midnight
The lights were low, her window cracked open to let in a breeze tinged with night jasmine. Teju sat cross-legged on her bed, her hair in a messy bun, laptop balanced on a pillow. The screen flickered as the call connected.
Maira's face appeared—relaxed against a stack of pillows, hair damp from a shower, her room softly aglow with fairy lights and scattered sheet music.
"Hey," Teju greeted with a small smile.
"Hey, you," Maira replied, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Still alive after the madness?"
"Barely," Teju chuckled. "But I still have all my limbs. So... win?"
Maira laughed. "That's the spirit."
Teju leaned forward, a playful glint in her eye. "Okay. Be honest—is Mihir always that grumpy, or was today a special episode?"
Maira let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, he's worse. Grumpy is his baseline. Add broody, bossy, allergic to compliments, emotionally unavailable..."
Teju giggled. "A walking thundercloud."
"With a guitar and expensive boots," Maira added with a shrug.
Teju grinned. "I don't know how you deal with him."
"I pace myself," Maira deadpanned. "And keep emergency chocolate on standby."
Laughter echoed between them—light, warm, real.
Then Teju's voice grew softer. "But Sahir sir... he's different."
Maira tilted her head slightly. "How so?"
Teju looked away for a second, then smiled faintly. "He's... kind. Gentle. He notices things but never pries. He's helped me so much."
Maira's eyes softened. "Like what?"
Teju hesitated, then said quietly, "He's the reason I'm even here. I ran away from my wedding, Maira. This college rejected me at first. They didn't want the... scandal."
Maira's expression shifted, surprised but not judgmental. "You ran away?"
Teju nodded. "It wasn't right. It wasn't love. It was a decision made for me, not by me. I thought I'd ruined everything... but Sahir sir stepped in. He got me admitted. Never asked for anything. Never made me feel small."
Maira's voice dropped to a gentler note. "That's... powerful. You chose yourself. That takes courage."
"It didn't feel brave then," Teju whispered. "It felt like betrayal. Of them. Of me."
There was a quiet pause, filled with understanding.
Then Maira leaned a little closer to the screen. "Sometimes we make the right choices with shaking hands. That doesn't make us weak, Teju. It makes us real."
Teju blinked, moved by her words.
"You walked away from something suffocating," Maira said. "That's not shameful. That's strength."
Teju gave a soft smile, touched. "Thanks. I don't think anyone's said that to me before."
Maira smiled back. "You're not alone anymore."
A moment passed in silence—peaceful, grounding.
Then a knock echoed faintly from Maira's end.
"I think that's my midnight snack," she said, smiling.
"At midnight?" Teju raised an eyebrow.
"Survival food," Maira winked. "Text me tomorrow?"
"Definitely."
The call ended, but Teju didn't close her laptop right away.
Her smile stayed.
And somewhere between soft confessions and laughter, a new friendship had begun—gentle, unexpected, and healing in all the right places.
Kailashi's Room – Midnight
The faint flicker of a diya bathed the small room in a golden hue, shadows dancing gently across the aged wooden walls. The scent of burnt sage lingered in the air, soothing and sacred. Maira stepped inside quietly, the adrenaline from the night finally settling—but her thoughts were still burning.
Kailashi sat cross-legged by the window, her prayer beads now resting idle in her lap. Her white shawl draped around her like armor—not just the garb of an elder, but of a Reevavanshi matriarch.
Maira closed the door gently behind her.
"Nani," she said softly, her voice lined with urgency. "They came."
Kailashi opened her eyes slowly. "Ruby and Sunehri."
Maira blinked. "You know?"
"I sent you there for a reason, Maira," Kailashi said firmly, rising to her feet with the grace of someone half her age. "They were bound to strike. The moment your proximity to Mihir disturbed Mohana's pattern... retaliation was inevitable."
Maira's heart thudded. "You think the attack was about him?"
"I know it was," Kailashi replied. "Mihir isn't just some performer, Maira. He's the one Mohana marked. And your job is not only to guard him—but to stay close until the time comes."
"The time for what?" Maira asked, brows furrowing.
Kailashi stepped closer, her expression solemn. "For the Bishwa to awaken. And for the bloodlines to collide."
Maira's breath caught. "So Teju—"
"She doesn't know yet," Kailashi said gently. "And she mustn't. Not until her soul accepts the fire within her. Until then, we protect her... as silently as the wind."
Maira sat down slowly. "I thought I was only watching over Mihir. But now... everything's changing. Teju... Sahir... they're all connected, aren't they?"
Kailashi placed a hand on Maira's shoulder. "You were born for this, child. Reevavanshi blood runs pure in your veins. You were never just a personal assistant."
"I know," Maira whispered. "But what if I fail?"
"You won't," Kailashi said simply. "You already threw yourself into fire for someone you barely knew. That's not failure. That's legacy."
Maira nodded slowly, determination returning to her eyes.
Kailashi turned back to the window, looking toward the distant sky. "The daayans will come again. With more fury. More strategy. And perhaps... even doubt in their own ranks."
"But we'll be ready," Maira finished.
Kailashi smiled faintly. "We always are."
Sharma Residence– Corridor Outside Kailashi's Room
The door clicked softly behind her as Maira stepped out, her nani's words still echoing in her head. The quiet of the mansion at this hour felt heavier tonight—thicker. Like the darkness knew something had changed.
She walked slowly, arms wrapped around herself, the corridor dimly lit with flickering yellow wall lamps. The air was still, save for the soft rustle of the curtains brushing the floor.
But Maira's thoughts were far from still.
They circled around Mihir.
Not the moody, untouchable star the world saw on posters.
Not the temperamental boss who couldn't say please to save his life.
But the man who had run into chaos to save a child. The same man who—without being asked—used his powers to shield her and Teju from the raining fireballs.
She paused by the arched window, staring at the dark courtyard below.
"There's so much anger in him," she whispered. "So much fire..."
Her gaze softened, clouded with thoughts she couldn't yet name.
"But there's something else too."
She closed her eyes briefly, replaying the moment his crimson magic burst forth. The silence with which he stepped forward. No show. No speech. Just action. Instinct.
Protect.
Her lips twitched, a small smile creeping in before she caught herself.
"I don't get you, Mihir Kashyap," she murmured. "You're rude. Impatient. Impossible. And yet... you saved that child like it was nothing. Protected me like—"
She stopped herself.
A beat passed.
Then, shaking her head, she whispered with an exhale, "You're the most confusing man I've ever met."
With that, she turned and walked toward her room, unaware that the words she left behind had already begun weaving threads of something deeper... threads fate would pull tight soon enough.
Teju's Hostel Room – Late Night
The streetlights outside bathed the walls in a soft orange glow, while the gentle hum of the ceiling fan did little to still Teju's racing thoughts. She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, her gaze unfocused as she stared out the window.
The night had been madness. Fire. Wind. Screams. Yet, what lingered in her heart... was something else entirely.
Him.
Sahir.
Images flashed unbidden—Sahir pulling her away from the falling fireball, his steady voice earlier reprimanding her gently for risking her life. The way his eyes softened when he realized she was safe.
She touched her arm where he'd grabbed her—it was still warm. Still there.
He always shows up. Always.
From the day he stood against the college board to fight for her admission, to the moment he guided her away from the fire—quiet, firm, unwavering.
Teju whispered aloud to the silence, "Why do you always protect me?"
There was no answer. Just the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant barking of a dog somewhere outside.
She smiled faintly to herself, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
He's not like Raj at all...
Not loud, not brash. Sahir moved like a shadow, yet somehow... he made her feel seen. Even when she tried to disappear.
"Thank you," she whispered to the stillness. Not knowing that somewhere, someone's thoughts had already wandered back to her.