Do saal beet chuke the. Noghawa ka wo chhota sa "Divine Salon" ab ek purani yaas ban gaya tha. Bangalore ke sabse posh area mein ab ek 5-star building khadi thi jis par bade harfon mein likha tha—"The Royal Crown: Sufiyan's Empire."
Andar ek sunehri kursi par Sufiyan baitha tha. Usne ab mehnge suit pehna shuru kar diya tha aur uski aankhon mein wo purani masoomiyat nahi, balki ek thanda garv (pride) tha. Uske paas khadi thi Ritika, jo ab sirf uski bachpan ki dost nahi, balki uski business partner aur uski duniya ban chuki thi.
Sufiyan ne ek file par sign kiya—ye wahi divorce papers the jisne 6 mahine pehle Suhaliya ki zindagi tabah kar di thi. Suhaliya, jisne Sufiyan ko zero se hero banaya, aaj wo kisi anjaan shehar mein ek chhoti se dukan mein apni zindagi guzar rahi thi, bina kisi shikayat ke.
[System Notification: Warning! Soul Connection Severed. Divine Power converted to "Dark Aura". Current Level: Master of Greed.]
Sufiyan ki Golden Scissors ka rang ab halka kala (black-gold) ho gaya tha. Uska kaam pehle se bhi tez tha, lekin ab uske hathon mein wo "shifa" (healing) nahi thi, sirf professionalism tha.
"Sufiyan," Ritika ne dheere se uske kandhe par hath rakha, "International Championship ka invite aaya hai. Paris jana hai."
Sufiyan ne aaine mein apna chehra dekha. Use apni parchhayi mein ek pal ke liye Suhaliya ki roti hui surat dikhi, lekin usne turant aaina ghum diya. "Tayyari karo Ritika. Ab mujhe sirf jeetna hai, rishte nibhane ke liye mere paas waqt nahi hai."
Us din baarish ho rahi thi, bilkul waisi hi jaisi us din hui thi jab usne Suhaliya ko ghar se nikalne ko kaha tha. Sufiyan ko laga tha ke wo khush hai, lekin uske dil ke ek kone mein ab bhi wo 'System' ek dardnaak awaaz kar raha tha.