Amara's POV:
The hospital was quiet that evening. Jia hovered a little, making sure I followed the doctor's instructions and gently nudging me to rest. I focused on my healing hand, the sling a constant reminder of last week's close call.
The check-ups were routine, nothing out of the ordinary, but my mind was already running ahead—planning the next steps in tracking Seraphine Duvall. I kept my answers vague when Jia asked questions, masking my real intent.
By the time we finished, the sun was dipping low, casting golden streaks across the room. Jia reminded me to be careful on the way home, and I nodded, hiding the determination burning inside me.
The next morning, it was 5 am. "I am sorry, Jia, but I have to take action or else I would lose the evidence," I whispered to myself as I was guilty about lying to her.
I stepped outside and directed the driver to head to the location. I found where Sapherine was.
The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that held secrets in every corner. I stepped inside, careful, every sense alert. Seraphine Duvall emerged from the kitchen, her presence calm yet commanding.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, voice low, almost a warning. "You have no idea what you're stepping into."
"I need answers," I said, keeping my voice steady. "About my parents."
Seraphine's eyes flickered, a shadow crossing her face. She shook her head slowly. "I can't tell you that. Not everything. Some truths are dangerous, even for those who think they're ready."
My stomach tightened. "But someone has to know. Someone has to find out the truth."
Her gaze hardened. "And someone already did. A man came here recently. Tall, sharp-eyed… precise. He asked the same questions you're asking. He left no room for mistakes."
I froze. "Who…?" My heart whispered a name I didn't dare say.
Seraphine's lips pressed into a thin line. "I can't say. But he made it very clear—I am not to speak to anyone about what I know. Not a soul. Or there would be consequences."
My pulse quickened. My hand went to my phone. Slowly, I showed her the picture of Vihaan.
She looked. A pause. Then a slight nod. "Yes. That's him. He's methodical. He doesn't leave loose ends. If he thinks you're involved… he won't take it lightly."
The weight of it pressed on me. So he was searching for the truth. The same truth I was chasing. Fear tangled with relief. We were on parallel paths, and the danger was far from over.
Seraphine leaned back, eyes sharp. "Be careful. You're playing with forces much larger than you think. And… don't trust anyone fully. Not yet."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Every step forward was perilous, but now I knew our paths were destined to cross—and that meant one thing: Vihaan distanced himself because he, the stupid thought, I would be in danger.
I left Seraphine's house, the door clicking softly behind me. The air outside felt sharper, colder, yet somehow clearer. My chest ached—not from failure, but from understanding.
All this time, I had blamed him. Thought he had distanced himself to forget me, thought he had played with my heart. But the truth pressed against me now, undeniable.
He hadn't abandoned me. He had tried to keep me safe. Every harsh word, every cold gesture, every moment he pulled away—it had been for me.
Typical Vihaan. Always putting me first, even above his own life.
My hand tightened around the sling, and for the first time in days, the hurt in my chest was tempered by something else: clarity. This wasn't about lost love or betrayal. This was about survival… about truth.
And if he had been fighting for it, so would I.
Vihaan's POV:
"I talked to Sapherine about the clues. We need to talk," I told Noah in desperation, as it was very important to talk about it now and get to the next step.
I reached the old building a little earlier than he did, so I had already settled the papers I needed to show him.
"Hey, tell me what that is?" he asked, sitting on a chair in front of me.
We were discussing our next move and the strategy to move forward when a loud voice called out, "Mr. Vihaan Mickelson." For a moment, I froze, trying not to believe whose voice this was.
"Who came? Someone knows our place?" Noah asked in terror.
"Umm, .... It's.... Ama," I said with an awkward smile.
But before he could say something else, a flying brick crossed our heads.
Noah ducked behind the chair, eyes wide. "Dude, seriously—what's her problem? Is she trying to kill us?"
I raised a hand, still unsure whether to laugh or panic. "I… I think it's just Ama being Ama."
From the corner of my eye, I saw her step forward, sling and all, hair slightly messy, but that determined fire in her eyes unmistakable.
"You!" she shouted, pointing a finger like a gun. "Yes, you, Mr. Perfect-Vihaan-Mickelson! You think you can keep secrets, manipulate everything, and play the hero—and I won't find out?"
Noah peeked out. "She's… scary. Is she always like this?"
The brick smashed into the wall, sending dust into the air. I froze mid-breath. Ama? That voice. That fury. That… sling.
Noah screamed from behind the chair. "She—she just threw a brick! Are we dead? Are we about to be murdered?!"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Noah… calm down. It's Ama. She's… just expressing herself."
Noah peeked out, eyes wide like a cartoon character seeing a ghost. "Expressing herself? Dude… she's a live-action horror show! Run!"
Ama stormed in, hand on her hip, swinging the sling slightly. "You! You! Mr. Vihaan Mickelson! Yes, YOU!" She jabbed a finger at me like she was about to declare war. "Do you have any idea how many heart attacks I've had this week? How many times have I worried myself into early menopause because of your ridiculous… heroic nonsense?!"
I raised my hands defensively. "Ama… okay, okay! Just… breathe. Brick-throwing level anger is not necessary. Can we… negotiate?"
She stomped, her sling flailing like a medieval weapon. "Negotiate? Ha! You think negotiation works when my life has been a suspense thriller starring you as the cold, mysterious… jerk?!"
Noah flinched. "Did she just call you a jerk in all caps?"
Ama grabbed the nearest file and waved it like a sword. "I could throw this at you! Or that vase! Or—oh!—that concrete loader! Don't tempt me, Mickelson!"
I ducked instinctively. "Ama, stop! Please! I'm not worth hospital bills for either of us!"
Noah shrieked, diving behind a chair again. "She's—she's violent! Why is she so violent?! I thought she was just a cute girl with a sling!"
I pinched my nose again, muttering. "Noah… life lesson: never underestimate your girlfriend, even with a fractured hand."
Ama paused, glaring, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "Dangerous? Oh, you'll see dangerous if you keep acting like I'm just a fragile little angel you have to protect!"
I shot Noah a glare, still trying to calm her down. "Ignore Noah. He's… uh… just a spectator. Ama… I promise, the secrets, the distance—it was all to keep you safe."
She paused, just for a heartbeat, the tiniest flicker of something soft piercing her dramatic storm. "…To keep me safe?"
"Yes. Even if it looked like I was… torturing you emotionally," I admitted.
She crossed her arms, still glaring, but the corners of my lips twitched. "Hmm. Typical Vihaan. Always putting me over everything, even your precious life. You're impossible."
I exhaled, relieved, and muttered, "Impossible… yeah, that sums it up."
Noah groaned dramatically from his hiding spot. "I quit. I officially quit. This is too much for one human to survive."