KING ✅

2

Reena Desai.

Or should I say Shrinidhi Shetty?

She was walking toward me, and I realized—

What on earth have I gotten myself into?

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Y/N's POV

Reena stopped in front of me with an exasperated sigh. "Y/N, how much time do you take to get ready? Come on, hurry up! We're getting late," she said in a bored tone.

"I'm sorry, but where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

She gave me a look of disbelief. "What? You forgot? We're going shopping! We have a party tomorrow at my bar."

Wait... a party at her bar? That means there will be alcohol. I can’t drink alcohol, and from what I remember in the movie, Reena has an incredible tolerance for it. What should I do? First, I wake up in a different timeline, and now two movie characters claim to be my father and my friend. Should I go with the flow? Yes, I think that’s my best option for now.

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot. Let’s go!" I replied cheerfully, trying to mask my confusion so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

She nodded, grabbed my hand, and led me inside her car.

---

We had been shopping for hours—or rather, Reena had been shopping for hours. Now, we were heading to a restaurant to eat. Currently, we were stuck in traffic, and as I gazed outside the window, my eyes landed on an injured child sitting by the street. Nobody even spared him a glance.

Without thinking twice, I quickly got out of the car and hurried toward the child. Just as I reached him, someone else approached from the opposite direction and picked him up first. I looked up and froze. It was none other than the Rocking Star himself—Yash.

His sharp, piercing gaze met mine, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. Just as he was about to say something, Reena’s voice called out to me from behind.

"Y/N! Come on, the traffic has cleared!"

I glanced back at Yash one last time before reluctantly stepping into the car.

Oh god. Okay. Now I believe it—I’m definitely in the KGF timeline.

---

Yash/Rocky’s POV

I was sitting on my bike, waiting for my tea, when I noticed a child huddled on the corner of the street. He was severely injured. Without a second thought, I got off my bike and approached him. Just as I was about to pick him up, another person rushed forward to help.

It was a girl. A beautiful girl.

Her hazel-brown eyes, framed by long lashes, her smooth white skin, and soft pink lips—every part of her radiated beauty. I found myself momentarily lost in admiration. Who was she?

Just as I was about to ask for her name, someone called out to her. She turned at the voice, sparing me one last glance before leaving.

I sighed, then lifted the child onto my bike and drove toward Qasim Chacha’s house.

---

Upon reaching Qasim Chacha’s house, I called out to him.

"Qasim Chacha!"

He stepped out, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but his expression quickly changed when he saw the injured child on my bike.

"What happened to this kid, Rocky?"