𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒: Reunited | Part 1

37. Dream and passion

Driti:

September.

A crisp edge to the air, the kind that slips beneath your skin, leaving a sense of quiet tension, like the calm before a storm. Mumbai's crowded streets blur past the windows, but my attention is razor-sharp, every instinct trained for that one wrong step, that one shadow out of place. Because he's still out there—my stalker. The one who never got his closure, the one who thinks he’s owed a part of me. But he’ll keep waiting. I won’t be that easy to catch.

I ignore it. Mostly. But sometimes... sometimes the paranoia creeps in, makes my skin prickle. Still, I push forward.

I’m back in my old studio. Despite his orders, despite that arrogant flicker of a smile he gave me, that knowing look that made me want to punch his perfect jaw. "No," he said. As if it were that simple. As if he understood a thing about what I need.

But this isn't about him—it's about reclaiming pieces of myself.

Vyaan Mehra, the liar. If anyone could hold the world hostage with a smile, it’s him. He thinks he’s fooling me, sidestepping every truth I ask for, evading the mess of the past like it’s a game. But each lie only adds to the pile of secrets he’s hiding, the walls he's built around that cold, impenetrable heart.

And yet... there’s this other side, something softer, almost maddeningly human. He’s clingy now, in a way that makes me feel like I have two people to deal with—the sharp-edged, unyielding Vyaan I remember, and this newer one who hovers too close, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

It’s... strange. As if the old Vyaan, the one who was nothing but ice and steel, is fading, replaced by someone else.

6:34 p.m.

The evening shadows start creeping in, blanketing Mumbai’s relentless chaos in a dim, moody haze. Outside the studio, city lights flicker awake one by one, like stars peeking through an urban sky. There's something hauntingly beautiful about this hour—caught between day and night, when the world shifts its mask, hiding secrets behind the glow of neon lights.

The air in my studio feels heavier, pressing down on my skin as if it remembers every brushstroke, every late night I’ve spent here. My fingers itch to paint, to capture the way the light fractures across the walls, how it carves shapes and shadows. But my thoughts keep circling back to Vyaan—his touch, his words, and the cold edge that now feels strangely absent.

In this moment, the silence is thick, almost suffocating, broken only by the hum of the city outside. And somewhere out there, I know he’s watching. My stalker, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment.

But tonight? Tonight, I’m not afraid.

If something happens to me this time?

I know I won’t go down quietly. I’ll fight, claw, bleed if I have to. I’ll make sure that every ounce of strength, every fragment of resilience in me is thrown into that battle. I've been pulled down, scarred, haunted by shadows I never asked for, but I’m not the same girl I was then. I’m sharper now, stronger.

If he dares to come close, if he thinks he can corner me again, he’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go to end this.

"Missing me?"

The voice slithers through the silence, low and smooth, with that unmistakable bite of arrogance. And there he is, leaning casually in the doorway, dressed to kill in a charcoal three-piece suit that fits him too perfectly for my sanity. His tie is loose, his collar slightly undone, as if he rolled out of a boardroom just to come here and torment me.