Through Fire and Passion

Chapter 2: The First Meeting

Ankit Roy was lounging in his penthouse apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand, when his phone rang. At 21, Ankit had already achieved more than most people twice his age. He was a self-made millionaire, the founder of a successful tech startup, and known for his charisma and playboy lifestyle.

But underneath the confident exterior was a deep loyalty to his older brother, Danish. Though they were four years apart, Ankit and Danish had always been close, especially after the death of their parents. Danish had taken on the role of protector, while Ankit had thrown himself into his career, determined to carve out his own path.

When Ankit saw Danish's name on the screen, he knew something serious was happening. Danish rarely asked for help, which meant whatever this was, it was important.

"Danish," Ankit greeted, taking a sip of his drink. "What's going on?"

Danish's voice on the other end of the line was strained. "It's about Aisha Paul. She's in trouble, Ankit. Some boys from the school—Rohan and his friends—they're accusing her of something she didn't do. They're saying she provoked them at a party. The school is siding with them because of who their families are."

Ankit set his glass down, his expression hardening. "And you want me to dig around, see what I can find on them?"

"Yes," Danish replied. "I can't do this alone, and you have the kind of connections that can help. I need you to find out whatever you can about Rohan and his friends. Anything that can clear Aisha's name."

Ankit was silent for a moment, processing the request. He didn't know Aisha or her brother Sarthak, but he trusted Danish and he also knows how Danish cares about them. If Danish was asking for help, it was serious.

"Alright," Ankit finally said. "I'll see what I can do. Send me the details, and I'll start making some calls."

Danish's voice softened slightly, a note of relief creeping in. "Thank you, Ankit. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," Ankit replied. "Just take care of the girl."

As he hung up, Ankit's mind was already racing. He didn't know much about the Paul siblings, but if they were important to Danish, then they were important to him. Ankit had built his success on getting people to talk, and he had a knack for uncovering secrets that others wanted to keep hidden.

This was a challenge—and if there was one thing Ankit loved, it was a challenge.

The next day, Ankit found himself standing outside Danish's apartment, tapping his foot impatiently. He had spent the morning making calls, gathering information on Rohan and his group of friends. He had already uncovered a few useful details, but he needed more. He needed to meet the Paul siblings.

The door opened, and Danish greeted him with a tired but grateful smile. "Ankit, thanks for coming."

Ankit nodded, stepping inside. "Of course. Where's Aisha?"

"She's in guest room," Danish replied, his voice soft. "She's not in a good place right now. Her brother, Sarthak, is here too. I think you two should meet."

Ankit raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He didn't know much about Sarthak, other than what Danish had mentioned in passing. Quiet, introverted, the protective older brother. Ankit couldn't help but wonder what kind of person Sarthak was—and why he had stayed in the background for so long.

As Danish led him into the living room, Ankit's gaze fell on the figure sitting on the couch. Sarthak looked up as they entered, his expression guarded. He was taller than Ankit had expected, but there was a quietness about him, a vulnerability that Ankit hadn't anticipated. Sarthak's dark eyes flicked over Ankit, taking in his sharp features and confident stance, before quickly looking away.

"Sarthak, this is my brother, Ankit," Danish said, gesturing toward him. "He's going to help us with Aisha's case."

Sarthak stood up, his movements stiff and uncertain. He nodded briefly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for helping."

Ankit gave a small smile, sensing the awkwardness radiating from Sarthak. "No problem," he replied, his tone easygoing. "We're going to get to the bottom of this."

As they sat down to discuss the next steps, Ankit couldn't help but steal glances at Sarthak. There was something intriguing about him—a quiet intensity that made Ankit want to understand him better. Sarthak wasn't the type to command attention, but there was an undeniable depth in his eyes, a kind of quiet storm that made Ankit curious.

As Danish laid out the details of Aisha's case, explaining how the school administration had been quick to take Rohan's side, Ankit noticed how Sarthak sat silently, his fists clenched in his lap. He spoke little, only nodding occasionally, but his tension was palpable. It wasn't just worry for Aisha; it was frustration, anger, and a feeling of helplessness that Ankit recognized all too well.

"So, here's what we do," Ankit said, leaning forward. "I've already started digging into Rohan and his friends. I'm getting a sense of who they are and what they're hiding. But we need someone on the inside—someone who knows the school dynamics, the students, the teachers. Someone who can talk to people without raising suspicion."

Sarthak's eyes flicked up at that, meeting Ankit's gaze for a brief moment. "You mean... me?"

Ankit nodded. "You're Aisha's brother. People know that, but they also know you're quiet. They're not going to think you're trying to stir up trouble. But you can talk to the right people, figure out who might have been at that party, who might be willing to tell the truth."

Sarthak's brow furrowed. "I... I'm not sure I can do that. I don't really talk to anyone at school. I—"

"You don't have to be a social butterfly," Ankit interrupted gently. "You just need to be yourself. People will open up if they trust you, and from what Danish has told me, you're trustworthy."

Sarthak hesitated, clearly uncertain, but there was something in Ankit's voice that gave him pause. It wasn't just the words—it was the way Ankit looked at him, like he believed in Sarthak's ability to help. For the first time in weeks, Sarthak felt like maybe—just maybe—there was something he could do for his sister.

"Okay," Sarthak finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. "I'll try."

Ankit smiled, his expression softening. "Good. We'll figure this out together."