Outside the Concert Grounds – Emergency Medical Bay
The concert lawn had been transformed into a warzone-turned-recovery camp. Sirens wailed in the distance. Emergency vans—mobile treatment units—lined the edge of the field, their floodlights casting a pale glow across the tired, injured, and confused.
Inside one of the makeshift treatment vans, Teju sat on a stretcher, a bandage wrapped lightly around her arm. The medic gave her a nod. "You're lucky. Just a bruise."
She barely heard him.
Her eyes scanned the crowd outside—scanning faces, scanning shadows. Searching.
Where is she?
Across the yard, Maira stood by another van, her own palm wrapped after a sharp scrape. She looked around restlessly, weaving through those seated on mats and benches. Her hair was tousled, her eyes puffy from smoke—but her focus remained sharp.
That girl... where is she?
They didn't even know each other's names. Strangers just hours ago. But something about the way they had held hands in that one moment—amid falling pillars and swirling fire—lingered like a memory neither could explain.
Then—through the crowd—they spotted each other.
Teju.
Maira.
They both took a few steps forward at the same time.
And, almost in sync, they both spoke.
"Are you okay?"
Their voices overlapped—gentle, concerned, sincere.
They blinked at each other, surprised at how naturally the words had come.
Teju gave a small smile. "I was about to ask you the same."
Maira exhaled a faint laugh, the tension easing from her shoulders. "Yeah... I'm fine. You?"
"Yeah... nothing major."
They stood in silence for a beat, watching the chaos slowly settle around them.
It was strange—this calm in the middle of confusion.
But neither pulled away.
They didn't know it yet, but something had shifted.
Something cosmic.
Something written far before either of them had taken their first breath.
And in that quiet moment—two destinies had just taken a single, irreversible step closer.
Outside the Medical Van – Night Settling Over Chaos
The skies had dimmed into a purplish hue, and the last flickers of smoke were being tamed by fire crews on-site. The chaos of the concert was slowly giving way to stillness. But in the middle of that stillness, Teju and Maira stood like a calm after a storm.
Teju shifted slightly and said with gentle sincerity, "Thank you... for pulling me out of the way back there."
Maira shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You don't need to thank me. Anyone would've done the same."
"No," Teju insisted. "Not anyone would've thrown themselves in harm's way for a stranger."
Maira gave a small smile. "Well, I saw someone doing that already... helping strangers. Shielding kids. Comforting them. You were the real saviour today."
Teju blinked at the unexpected compliment. Her lips tugged into a shy smile. "I'm Teju. Tejaswini Kakkar. First-year medical."
Maira's expression brightened. "Maira Sharma. PA to... well, MK."
Teju laughed softly. "Yeah, I figured. I saw you perform on stage with him."
Maira arched a brow. "Don't remind me. That was... not part of the plan."
Teju tilted her head. "Well, for something unplanned, you nailed it. You didn't look nervous at all."
"I was," Maira admitted. "Terrified actually. But I couldn't let him see that."
Teju chuckled. "Sounds like you know him well."
Maira smirked faintly. "Unfortunately."
They both laughed, easing into something soft and unexpected—something familiar.
A silence settled again—but this time, it was warm.
Teju looked at her for a moment. "I'm glad I met you tonight."
Maira nodded, smiling. "Same here."
And just like that, in the fading shadows of fire and fear, a new friendship was born—one forged not in calm but in chaos, destined to become a shield in the storm yet to come.
College Grounds – Just Outside the Medical Van
The scent of burnt wood still lingered faintly in the air, but the chaos had ebbed. The winds were calmer now, and the fire was under control—leaving behind a shaken but recovering crowd.
Teju stood beside Maira near the treatment van, their new connection warm and easy, like old friends reuniting after lifetimes apart. Bandaged and exhausted, both looked around, making sure the others were safe.
Then came the familiar voice—deep, measured, laced with concern.
"Teju."
Teju turned to see Sahir, walking toward her with urgency in his stride. His shirt was slightly singed at the edges, his face shadowed with smoke and sweat, but his eyes—those piercing, unreadable eyes—were fixed on her.
"Sir," she said, straightening.
He looked her over, noting the bruise on her elbow and the smear of soot on her cheek. "Are you alright?"
Teju nodded. "Yes. Thanks to Maira."
But Sahir didn't let it slide. His voice dropped, more scolding than she expected. "You shouldn't have been running around in the middle of all that, Teju. That place was on fire. It was chaos—you could've been seriously hurt."
Teju met his gaze, calm but firm. "I couldn't just stand by. People needed help. Some were injured, some frozen in fear... I did what I had to."
He exhaled heavily, clearly torn. "You took unnecessary risks."
"Maybe," she said softly, "but they mattered."
Beside them, Maira watched the exchange, fighting a grin. She cleared her throat gently. "Should I leave you two to finish this very intense conversation?"
Sahir turned toward her. "And you must be Maira Sharma."
"And you must be Sahir Kashyap," she replied, offering her hand. "Your reputation precedes you."
They shook hands briefly, his grip polite but distant.
Maira added with a teasing smile, "You're surprisingly kind for a Kashyap twin."
Sahir raised an eyebrow. "Surprisingly?"
"Well," she shrugged playfully, "your brother isn't exactly known for his... tact. You, on the other hand, seem like a proper gentleman. Calm, composed, and not constantly yelling at women."
Teju's lips curved in a half-laugh—until she noticed a dark figure just behind Maira... looming.
Her eyes widened.
"Maira..." she whispered from the corner of her mouth, "behind you."
Maira blinked and turned—only to find herself inches away from Mihir, tall, brooding, and unmistakably unamused.
"Oh," Maira said, awkwardly straightening. "Hi... sir."
Mihir said nothing.
Teju glanced at Sahir, who was already sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Maira smiled sweetly. "Didn't see you there."
Still, no reply.
She leaned in slightly and added with mock innocence, "We were just discussing your brother's many... admirable traits. A true gentleman. Women must love him."
Mihir's jaw flexed.
Sahir, clearly out of patience, mumbled, "I'll go check on Moti Baa," and exited swiftly, leaving the trio behind.
Teju followed shortly, giving Maira a whisper: "You're brave."
"I've survived worse," Maira replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes, before turning away—cool and composed.
But she could feel Mihir's eyes burning holes in her back.
His silence was louder than words.
And somewhere deep inside... it bothered him more than he'd admit.
Kashyap Mansion – Courtyard, Midnight
The moon hung high above the Kashyap Mansion, casting silver pools of light across the marble courtyard. Crickets chirped softly in the distance, but within the stone walls, the silence was disturbed by the dull thud of a basketball bouncing against the tiles.
Mihir, shirt damp with sweat, paced the court barefoot, dribbling with restless aggression. His jaw clenched, brows furrowed. Every bounce echoed like a war drum.
Maira's words haunted him.
> "You, on the other hand, seem like a proper gentleman. Calm, composed... not constantly yelling at women."
The sarcasm in her voice, the teasing glint in her eye—it had sunk deep, like a thorn under his skin.
He threw the ball with a sharp pivot—it struck the rim and rebounded hard.
Before it could hit the ground again, a hand shot out of the shadows—catching it clean.
Sahir.
Standing at the edge of the courtyard in a black kurta, hair slightly tousled, expression unreadable.
Mihir scowled. "What, you following me now?"
Sahir bounced the ball once, then twice. "I live here. Not my fault you decided to wage war against the hoop at midnight."
Mihir stepped forward. "Did you need something, or are you here to gloat?"
Sahir tilted his head slightly. "Why would I gloat?"
Mihir's eyes narrowed. "You heard what she said."
Sahir paused, then gave a small, knowing smile. "Ah. She. You mean Maira."
Mihir looked away, jaw ticking again.
"Don't read into it," Sahir said casually, tossing the ball back to him. "She was just making conversation. Joking."
"She compared us," Mihir muttered, catching the ball. "Said you were calm and charming. That I yell at women."
Sahir raised a brow. "You do yell at women."
"I don't—!" Mihir stopped himself. Exhaled. Rubbed his forehead.
Sahir walked forward and leaned against a pillar. "You're not angry at her for what she said. You're angry because she wasn't scared when she said it."
Mihir stiffened. "You think I care what she thinks?"
"I think you care more than you should," Sahir said quietly. "And that's what's eating you alive."
The two brothers stood in silence—moonlight casting their shadows long across the marble tiles.
Mihir dribbled the ball again, slower now. Calmer.
Sahir added after a beat, "She's not like the others. She sees through people. She doesn't back down."
Mihir met his brother's gaze. "That's exactly the problem."
Sahir gave him a half-smile. "Or maybe... that's exactly the point."
Mihir grunted. "Oh, please. Don't get philosophical on me. That role suits you more anyway, 'Professor Sahir Kashyap.'"
Sahir smirked. "Better than being 'India's most moody rockstar.'"
Mihir narrowed his eyes. "Let's settle this. One-on-one. First to five."
Sahir chuckled. "You're challenging me? You haven't beaten me since we were seventeen."
"I haven't played you since we were seventeen."
Sahir shrugged off his kurta, revealing a lean, defined build. "Then let's see if the rockstar still has game."
Mihir bounced the ball once, smirking now. "Hope your knees are still working, professor."
The air lightened between them—not quite affection, but familiarity. A shared silence. A quiet respect they both pretended not to feel too often.
As Sahir moved to guard him and Mihir drove toward the basket, the tension of the evening eased for a moment—two brothers, not Davansh, not warriors, just twins bound by fate, rivalry... and now, something darker neither could yet name.