Zayan Khan couldn't think straight.
His mind had become a battlefield, every thought echoing like a gunshot, every memory cracking at the edges. Andaleeb's kiss haunted him. Not just the kiss, but the moment after—the look in her eyes.
Like she was hiding a war inside her chest.
Like she was holding back a storm.
He'd tried to let it go. Tried to convince himself he was imagining things. But the harder he tried, the more fragments returned. Unclear, scattered images bleeding into his dreams like ink in water.
Flashes of gold in her eyes.
A whisper: "You're safe now."
Blue light.
Warmth.
Then—emptiness.
Zayan sat in the dim light of his penthouse study, the city's lights a blur behind him. His fingers drummed restlessly against the edge of his desk.
"Why can't I remember that night clearly?" he muttered to himself. "Unless someone doesn't want me to."
His gaze slid back to the paused footage on his laptop. Elevator cam. Another glitch. Another three seconds of missing time.
And at the center of it all… her.
Andaleeb Shah.
---
Avoidance Mode: Activated
Andaleeb had declared war.
Not against anyone in particular—unless fate counted—but against proximity. Specifically, proximity to Zayan Khan.
No elevator rides.
No spontaneous tea deliveries.
No hallway greetings or sarcastic jabs.
If she heard his voice echoing from the corridor, she suddenly remembered an urgent task in the opposite direction. If he entered a room, she exited so smoothly, it was almost art.
Eman noticed, of course.
"You know avoiding him is only going to make him chase harder, right?" Eman said, aggressively chopping strawberries behind the café counter.
"I'm not avoiding him," Andaleeb replied, eyes darting.
"You ducked under a table yesterday when he walked by."
"That was strategy," Andaleeb muttered.
"It was pathetic," Eman deadpanned.
Andaleeb groaned. "I kissed him, Eman. And then I said nothing. Nothing! Who does that?"
"An alien disaster who's in love but pretending not to be?"
Andaleeb glared. "That wasn't helpful."
---
Power Slip at the Café
That afternoon, Zareen's Café hummed with its usual warmth—wooden counters, the scent of coffee, laughter from a couple in the corner.
Andaleeb tried to hide in the back, face flushed from another near-miss with Zayan, who had stopped by to pick up Haroon's documents. She hadn't even looked at him. Her heartbeat had done enough screaming.
Now she stood before the ancient coffee machine, which blinked red in rebellion.
"Oh, come on," she muttered. "You had one job."
She opened the panel. Steam hissed. A wire was loose. Instinctively, she reached out.
And then—POP.
Sparks flew. Foam burst out like a geyser. Lights flickered wildly, the entire café dimming as people gasped and ducked.
Eman rushed in, waving her arms. "Sorry folks! Minor glitch! Nothing our warranty can't cover!"
She yanked Andaleeb by the wrist into the storeroom.
"You touched it? Seriously?!"
"I was trying to help!"
"You nearly gave Mrs. Iqbal a heart attack! She dropped her muffin!"
"I didn't mean to! My powers are just… reacting!"
Eman folded her arms. "Or maybe you're reacting. Emotionally."
Andaleeb's eyes welled up. "I can't stop thinking about him, Eman. And every time I try, it's like something inside me starts… short-circuiting."
Eman's voice softened. "Then you need to decide. Confess… or explode."
---
Haroon's Confrontation
That evening, Andaleeb stood alone behind the café, watching the sky shift into lavender and steel.
The city never really went quiet, but in that moment, it almost did.
Haroon appeared beside her, hands in his pockets.
"You erased his memory, didn't you?" he asked gently.
She didn't look at him. "Yes."
"But it didn't stick."
"No," she whispered. "Bits and pieces are slipping through."
Haroon exhaled. "Zayan's smart. If he finds out the wrong way…"
"I didn't want to hurt him," she said, voice cracking. "I just wanted to protect him."
"Then tell him. Or someone else will."
She finally looked at him. "Do you think he could handle the truth?"
Haroon offered a rare smile. "I think he's already halfway in love with your chaos. And once a man's that far in… the truth's just a detour."
---
Zayan's Search for Truth
The office was empty long past midnight.
Zayan sat alone, surrounded by files, security logs, and backup servers he wasn't technically supposed to have access to.
He clicked through video after video.
The elevator glitches? Always when she was inside.
Time skips. Flickers. Security logs overwritten.
Three seconds missing.
Three seconds that changed everything.
He rewound one footage again and again.
Power cuts.
Darkness.
A blue shimmer—just at the edge of the frame.
He leaned forward, face close to the screen. His fingers hovered over pause.
There.
Her hand. Lit faintly. Just for a blink.
"What the hell are you hiding?" he whispered.
His phone buzzed. Aryan.
Zayan picked it up.
"You ever believe in things we can't explain?" he asked.
Aryan laughed. "You mean like miracles? Or tax returns?"
"Like magic," Zayan said quietly.
There was silence.
"…Are you okay, man?"
Zayan ended the call.
---
The Breaking Point
The building was silent when Andaleeb returned that night. She had waited until everyone had gone. Until the cleaning crew had turned off the vacuum. Until the elevator echoed with stillness.
She carried an envelope in one hand.
Her resignation.
A clean break. The only way to protect him now.
She stepped into his office, her chest tight, and placed the envelope on his desk like a final note.
Then turned.
And froze.
"Don't."
Zayan's voice, low and steady, came from the shadows.
He stepped into the light, his eyes locked on hers. Calm—but no longer unreadable.
"Don't walk away again."
She swallowed hard, her hand trembling.
"I have to."
"No, you don't."
He stepped closer. No anger. Just quiet devastation.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her.
And she let him.
It was a fragile hug, but it felt like a lifeline. Like he was charging his soul through her chaos. Like she was the only thing that made sense in a world full of static.
"I'm not leaving this room," he whispered, "until you tell me the truth."
Her voice cracked. "Zayan…"
He pulled back slightly, eyes dropping to her hands.
They were glowing.
Soft. Faint. But undeniable.
His breath caught.
She looked up, terrified.
"What… are you?"
She shook her head, stepping back. Her glow intensified. Lights around the room flickered.
"Zayan, please…"
"You lied to me," he said, but it wasn't angry. It was broken. "You let me fall for someone who wasn't even…"
He stopped himself.
"I didn't want this," she whispered.
"But you kissed me. You felt it."
"I still feel it!" she shouted, voice breaking. "But I'm not allowed to love you!"
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm not one of you."
And then the room went black.
---
End of Chapter 18 – The Breaking Point
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