#1 in the London Universe series:
Anaya Oberoi, a final-year student at a prestigious college in India, was thrilled to be selected for a student exchange at King's College London. But there was a catch-she had to live with foster parents. To her su...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The moment the call disconnected, a cold wave of dread swept me. She was gone. My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat echoing with the same terrifying thought—I couldn't let her become a victim again. The word terrified didn't even begin to describe it. I was horrified, paralyzed by the possibilities of what might be happening to her.
I locked eyes with her mother, the fear in her gaze mirroring my own.
"Was it Varun?" she whispered, her voice trembling with horror.
"He can't make my love a slave!" I roared, the anger in my chest boiling over.
Her expression shifted, her fear giving way to shock. "You... love her?" she asked, as though the words caught her off guard.
"Since forever," I said, my voice softening but steady, leaving no room for doubt.
She hesitated for a moment before snapping back into action. "Aniket," she said firmly, "I need to call him. He'll know how to find that pathetic excuse for a man."
At that point, I didn't care what her mother thought of me or whether I was even considered boyfriend material in her eyes. None of it mattered. My baby was in danger, and every second felt like a lifetime.
Without wasting another moment, I rushed to the mall, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and fury. The image of her being taken burned in my mind, fueling my determination. When I reached the security office, I demanded to see the CCTV footage. I needed proof—something, anything—to track him down and bring her back.
The security staff hesitated, their wary expressions suggesting they weren't used to handling this kind of urgency. "Please," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of desperation. "My girl has been kidnapped. I need to see the CCTV footage now!"
A middle-aged man with a badge that read Supervisor exchanged a skeptical glance with his colleague. His face hardened as he crossed his arms. "Young man, we can't give access to personal information. There are protocols to follow," he said flatly.
I clenched my fists, my anger surging. "Do you even understand how sensitive this matter is?" I roared, my voice echoing through the room. Their indifference was infuriating. "Take 2,000 pounds if you want, just show me the damn footage!"
The mention of money made the supervisor pause, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the risks. His colleague shuffled uncomfortably, glancing at him for direction.
"Alright," the supervisor finally said, his voice low but firm. "But if anyone asks, you never saw this here. Got it?"
I nodded, barely hearing his words over the pounding in my ears. All I cared about was seeing the footage. Time was slipping through my fingers, and Anaya needed me.
The supervisor motioned for his colleague to pull up the recordings. The screen flickered to life, and my heart raced as they fast-forwarded through the day's footage. Then, there she was—Anaya, walking through the mall, her gaze distracted.
