He pecked my forehead and attached our forehead we were breathing heavily due to the ferocious kiss we have shared and damn god he is good, na! na! -fantastic kisser.
"How many times have you kissed before?"
"Never. Ahana never you are my first and...
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We all live with the inevitable fear of death, yet we spend our lives chasing material pursuits, clinging to the illusion of immortality. But sometimes, the weight of our own mortality pales in comparison to the agony of losing someone we hold dear. It is a cruel irony—how we tether our existence so deeply to another that even the mere thought of their absence sends ice through our veins. And perhaps, I am the greatest fool of all.
The moment my eyes fell upon the blood staining Ishaan’s arm, a paralyzing numbness overtook me. The pain I had endured at Shivam’s hands was insignificant compared to the sheer horror of seeing crimson seeping from his flesh. My body moved on instinct, driven by a force greater than fear.
When Rajveer raised his gun, his aim steady on Ishaan, my world blurred into a single thought—protect him, no matter the cost. Without hesitation, I threw myself against him, pushing him aside with all my strength. We tumbled to the ground, the weight of fate pressing down upon us.
Flashback —
"Ishaan!" I cried out, my voice trembling with fear as I cradled his head in my lap. My tears spilled freely, soaking my cheeks, blurring my vision. Every pained whimper that left his lips, every flicker of agony in his eyes, shattered me beyond repair.
"Hey, d-don't cry... I-I'm all... right," he murmured weakly, attempting a feeble reassurance. But the moment the words left his mouth, a sharp hiss of pain followed, betraying his bravado.
And then—another gunshot echoed through the air. My breath hitched as realization dawned upon me. There had been two bullets. One had struck Ishaan’s arm… but the second?
With dread curling around my spine, I slowly lifted my gaze—and the answer stood before me.
Lakshay.
He was a short distance away, gripping Dhruv’s collar—his face a grotesque mess of blood and bruises, evidence of a brutal beating. In Lakshay’s other hand was a gun, smoke still curling from its barrel. My gaze flickered to Rajveer.
Lying motionless. Lifeless. Dead.
A shudder ran through me, but before I could process the scene, another deafening shot rang out. And then another. And another. The sound of vengeance, of rage unbridled.
