I held my father's hands tight as HE dropped the blood bathed dagger near the man he just stabbed. The man exhaled the last air off his mouth, flying the dust away. I looked around with a dry throat. The armed Security Guards of the complex stood frozen at 20 ft from the scene of crime. Blood washed off the street as nearly 70 people watched around in silence. 'Pick him up for a decent funeral, Johnny. There isn't anyone to cry for him.' the deep voice ordered the goons around him. I still cannot believe what I saw. A man stabbing the other! A murder! My head spun and I lost all my balance. 'Naina!' my father held me straight, guessing the mental state and earning a lot of attention, including HIS. HIS deep dark eyes moved to my direction, directly meeting my fearful ones. Despite the distance of more than 20 feet, I felt myself sink. Rudraksh Rathod, once believed to be the glory of Saratganj and now the nightmare of the whole territory. My first love. or let's just say...the man who gave me the first sense of a fierce infatuation. My father lifted his hand to shield me, urging me to step back. To our consolation, Rudra looked away snickering. 'Let's go.' he signalled his mates who carried the lifeless body in the jeep. Slowly, they left. I steadied myself like all others. 'Naina, let's go.' My father held my wrist, making me realize that people had started moving from their places. I nodded doing the same. Guess the man couldn't recognize me... not then...not now.