December 19th, 2029. Mumbai.
Aanya opened the door.
Not out of impulse. Not because of curiosity.
She told herself it was control—if he stood in front of her home, he entered on her terms.
Dev stepped inside without a word. No questions. No hesitation. Just the quiet confidence of someone who had never once doubted he would be let in.
She locked the door behind him. The soft click echoed too loudly in the silence.
Dev walked into her living room like he belonged there. He didn't comment on the minimalism, the expensive art, or the untouched wine on the coffee table.
"You live like a machine," he said.
"I prefer the term efficient."
He smiled, and for a moment, she hated that it didn't feel like mockery.
She folded her arms. "Why are you here?"
"To talk."
"You don't strike me as the talking type."
"I talk when it matters."
"And what matters now?"
He sat on the edge of her couch, elbows resting on his knees.
"You're looking for me."
Aanya didn't respond.
"I figured you would. That's why I didn't use my real name at the hospital."
"You erased everything."
Dev tilted his head slightly. "You found out what I wanted you to find."
"And what didn't you want me to find?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at her—really looked—and the moment stretched like wire pulled too tight.
"Does it bother you," he asked, "not knowing?"
She stared at him. "I don't like questions without answers."
"And yet, you haven't walked away."
She said nothing.
He leaned back, eyes trailing the ceiling.
"I used to think people were just problems to be solved. Like puzzles. You break them down, analyze them, fix the edges."
Aanya's voice was low. "And now?"
He looked at her again. "Now I know some puzzles are meant to stay unsolved."
She walked past him and poured a second glass of wine.
"You speak in riddles."
"I was taught by the best."
"You knew my grandfather."
He nodded. "Still do."
"How?"
Dev took the glass when she handed it to him. Their fingers brushed for a second. Neither of them flinched. But neither forgot it.
"He saved me. Ten years ago."
Her breath caught. Ten years ago was when her parents died. When she became the heir to a billion-rupee empire she never asked for.
"What happened?" she asked.
Dev swirled the wine but didn't drink. "That's a longer story. But the short version is—I was on the run. From something that wanted me dead. He gave me a name, a new life, and one rule: Stay invisible."
"And you broke that rule."
"You broke it for me."
She didn't reply.
He stood and walked to the large glass window overlooking the city.
"I know what you think. That I'm dangerous. Or maybe just reckless. But I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then why are you here?"
He turned around.
"Because you looked at me like I was real."
That stopped her.
He walked closer.
"And I've spent too long being someone I'm not."
Aanya's voice was steady. "What are you then?"
He smiled again, faintly. "Someone who doesn't exist."
The room went quiet again.
Outside, the rain started. Not heavy. Just enough to muffle the world.
She hated the part of her that didn't want him to leave.
"I'm not looking for a story, Dev," she said.
"I'm not offering one."
"Then what are you offering?"
"A truth."
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe in truth. Only leverage."
"Then maybe I'm here to give you mine."
She studied him, calculating. He wasn't lying. But he wasn't telling everything either.
"Why now?" she asked.
"Because someone else is looking for me too. And they're not as polite."
The weight of his words settled slowly.
"Who?"
He hesitated. "People your grandfather kept away. People who don't like things staying buried."
Aanya's mind moved fast. "You led them here?"
"No. But they're coming anyway."
"So what do you want from me?"
"Time. And a place to disappear again."
She scoffed. "You want me to hide you?"
"I want you to decide whether hiding me is more useful than exposing me."
He walked to the door.
"I'll come back tomorrow. If you've locked the door, I'll understand. If not…"
He left the sentence open.
Then he was gone.
Aanya stared at the door long after he left.
She didn't pour another drink.
She didn't open her laptop.
She just stood there, caught in a feeling she hadn't recognized in years.
A fork in the road.
And the fear of choosing wrong.