Gauri's breath hitched in her throat as she gulped in air, her chest heaving. The terror of the past few moments—the choking grip, the impossible sight of Vihaan's recovery—crashed down on her weakened state. Her eyelids fluttered, her vision swam, and the last thing she saw was Vihaan's face, etched with a strange mix of fear and remorse, before darkness claimed her. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Vihaan stood frozen, staring at her limp form. The raw, violent impulse that had overtaken him moments ago unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Slowly, he bent down, lifting her into his arms with unexpected gentleness. Her weight felt fragile, a painful reminder of the line he had almost crossed.
He carried her back through the shadows until the dull shape of her yellow-and-black cab came into view, parked at the roadside. He placed her carefully on the backseat, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before stepping back.
His gaze shifted to the cab itself. The engine was as lifeless as when she had struggled with it earlier. Vihaan raised a hand, hovering it above the hood. A faint shimmer—barely visible—passed through his fingertips. The engine sputtered, coughed, then roared to life as though it had never failed. His red-tinged eyes dimmed, their glow fading into something conflicted, almost human.
He gave Gauri one last lingering look, then disappeared into the shadows of the night.
Moments later,Gauri's eyelids fluttered. She pushed herself upright and the first thing she noticed was the gentle vibration under the driver's seat — the engine was purring. For a dizzy second she thought she was still dreaming. She swung her legs out of the seat and stared at the dashboard: the needle rested on idle, the little lights glowed steady. Her cab — which had refused to cough back to life an hour ago — now hummed like it had never broken down.
She fumbled for the key and half-expected the familiar sputter. Instead the motor answered at once, smooth and obliging. A small, incredulous laugh escaped her. "Well," she murmured to herself, breath shaky, "looks like someone's looking out for me." She straightened, fingers still feeling the residual fog of the night.
Outside, flashing blue lights painted the highway—police jeeps lined up, officers inspecting the wreckage of a mangled car.
One of them, Harsh, approached quickly. "Ms. Gauri, are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern etched in his face.
"I… I think so," she murmured, still disoriented. Her eyes darted to the wreck. "What happened?"
"Terrible accident," Harsh said grimly. "A caravan truck collided with ACP Vihaan Kothari's vehicle. Miraculously, he escaped with minor injuries and is already resting at home."
Gauri's eyes widened at the sight of the crushed metal. Minor injuries? That wreck looked impossible to survive. As she shifted, something on the ground caught her attention—a plain leather bracelet, half-buried near the debris. Instinctively, she picked it up. The moment her fingers closed around it, an odd pull stirred inside her, something unsettlingly familiar.
Harsh noticed her staring at it. "That belongs to ACP Kothari," he explained after a pause. "You could leave it with us… or perhaps it's better if you return it yourself." He handed her a small card. "This is his home address."
Gauri hesitated, fingers tightening on the bracelet. The thought of seeing Vihaan again churned her stomach. He had judged her, insulted her—yet he had also saved her. With a small sigh, she slid into the driver's seat.
The engine purred perfectly at her touch, almost as if it wanted her to go.
"Well, looks like fate won't let me ignore this," she muttered, slipping the bracelet into her pocket before driving off into the night.
At the Kothari residence, the atmosphere was warm and familial. Vihaan, Raani, and Yug were enjoying some rare sibling time, sharing stories and laughter. Raani, ever observant, suddenly pointed to Vihaan's wrist.
"Bhai, where's your bracelet? You always wear it."
Vihaan frowned, a sudden realization dawning on him. He instinctively touched his bare wrist. "Oh, damn! It must have fallen off during the accident."
A wave of unease washed over him. That bracelet held sentimental value and also was the only weapon that kept his powers at bay. "I have to go find it," he declared, standing up. "Mom will have a fit if she finds out it's missing."
Meanwhile, Gauri pulled her cab to a slow stop outside the grand Kothari mansion. Her eyes widened as she craned her neck to take in the towering gates, the sprawling gardens, and the illuminated arches that shimmered like something out of a dream.
A small smile touched her lips as words, unbidden, slipped softly from her mouth—half-thought, half-poem:
"Walls that touch the sky,
Windows that guard secrets high,
Doors that whisper stories untold,
Of power, of pride, of hearts grown cold.
Yet in this palace vast and grand,
Do dreams walk free, or stay unmanned?
For what are riches, jewels, and stone,
If the soul must wander all alone?"
Her voice faded into the humid night air as she gazed at the mansion, her hand tightening on the bracelet she had come to return.