T H I R D P E R S O N

The golden hue of the morning sun spilled into the streets as a girl stepped out with beautiful smile on her face of her room, stretching lazily. The faint clinking of utensils and the rich aroma of chai filled the air, wrapping their home in warmth.

And this girl with beautiful smile is

Saira Malhotra

She walked into the kitchen and spotted her younger brother, Vivaan, hurriedly gulping down a glass of milk, his school bag half-open and his tie still undone.

"Late again, Vivaan?" Saira teased, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

Vivaan huffed between sips. "Not my fault! The alarm didn't ring."

She raised an eyebrow. "Or you just hit snooze like you always do?"

Before Vivaan could come up with a defense, their father, Divakar, walked in, flipping a paratha on the pan.

"You two never stop bickering," he said with an affectionate shake of his head. "Saira, have breakfast before leaving."

She smiled and took a seat, watching her father move around the kitchen effortlessly. After their mother's passing, he had taken over everything-never letting them feel the void, no matter how deep it was.

"You really should let me cook sometimes, baba," she said, taking a bite of the warm, crispy paratha he placed on her plate.

"And let you burn my kitchen? No way," Divakar replied with a chuckle, ruffling her hair before turning back to the stove.

Vivaan stuffed the last bite of his food into his mouth, grabbed his bag, and rushed to the door. "Bye, baba! Bye, dii!" he called out, nearly tripping on his way out.

Saira laughed, shaking her head. "He's a disaster."

"That's my disaster," her father said with a fond smile before turning to her. "You should get going too. Don't be late."

Saira nodded, quickly finishing her breakfast before grabbing her bag. "Bye, Papa! Take care."

With that, she stepped out into the bright morning, adjusting her dupatta as she walked to college.

In Meanwhile,

The college campus was buzzing with students, their voices merging into a constant hum of chatter. As Saira made her way inside, her best friend Kavya joined her, nudging her playfully.

"You're late."

"Blame the alarm clock," Saira replied with a small smile as they strolled towards their lecture hall.

They were deep in conversation when a voice interrupted them. "Uh... excuse me?"

A guy stood before them, his nervousness evident but his eyes gleaming with something else-intent. He was tall, decently dressed, and clearly not just here for notes.

"Yes?" Saira asked, tilting her head slightly.

He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual. "I... I'm new here. And, uh, I heard you're really good with notes." He flashed a hesitant smile. "Think you could help me out?"

Saira raised an eyebrow. "You need help with notes?"

He scratched the back of his neck, acting sheepish. "Yeah, you know... I figured having the smartest person in class guide me would be a great start."

Kavya smirked, instantly catching on. "Oh, so you specifically want Saira's notes?"

The guy gave a little laugh. "Well, I mean, who wouldn't? She's top of the class."

Saira let out a short chuckle and, before Kavya could nudge her, smoothly said, "Oh! Kavya will help you with that. She's way better at notes than me."

Kavya shot her a look but sighed. "Yeah, sure. I'll help."

The guy's expression faltered slightly before he recovered. "Uh... great! Thanks, Kavya. And thanks, Saira. Maybe next time you can help me personally?"

Saira smiled politely. "We'll see."

As soon as he walked away, another one of their friends chuckled. "Look at that, Saira's new chahane wala has arrived."

"Shut up. It's not like that," Saira muttered, adjusting her bag strap.

Her friend smirked. "It's true, Saira. Every guy in this college has a crush on you, and you always slide them off."

Saira shrugged. "Because I don't love them. I'll say yes when I'm in love with someone. And enough of this now."

Their conversation shifted to random college gossip until one of them groaned. "Ugh, it's khadoos's period next".

Disappointed.

The group collectively sighed before muttering, "We don't have any option." With that, they headed to their lecture.

On The Other hand,

In a dark, secluded room, the air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. A man lay on the floor, barely conscious, his body drenched in crimson. The relentless beating hadn't stopped, and his groans of pain echoed in the confined space.

Zorawar, standing by the side, observed with sharp eyes before ordering, "Make him stand."

The men holding him by his shoulders forced him up, but his body had taken too much-his legs gave away instantly.

"Stand up, you motherfucker," Zorawar spat, but the man could barely keep himself upright.

Just then, the door creaked open.

A broad-chested man, standing at an intimidating 6'4, stepped inside. Dressed in black, his mere presence made the room colder. Without a word, he extended his hand, and within seconds, a loaded gun was placed into his palm.

And he was AGNIV RAGHUWANSHI

He didn't hesitate. He raised the gun and, with brutal precision, shot the man's left leg. A piercing scream tore through the room as the man collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony.

His cold, unreadable gaze remained fixed on the bleeding man. "Did he spell the truth?" His voice was calm, yet it sent shivers down everyone's spine.

Zorawar hesitated before answering, "No, Chhote Sahab. But we are try-"

Before he could finish, another gunshot rang out. The bullet lodged itself between the prisoner's forehead, his body falling limp instantly. A heavy silence settled.

Agniv let out a low chuckle, dark and psychotic. His smirk, devoid of warmth, turned toward Zorawar. "Did you find the girl?"

Zorawar swallowed. "We are trying..."

"Trying?" Agniv repeated, then laughed-a bone-chilling sound. In a blink, he pressed the cold barrel of his gun against Zorawar's forehead, pinning him to the wall. His grip was like steel, his eyes burning with unreadable rage.

"You know what, Zorawar? It's been a year of hearing 'we are trying' on repeat," he whispered, his voice carrying lethal finality. "Zorawar, agar kal subah tak mujhe uss ladki ki koi khabar nahi mili... toh jo saansein iss kamre mein chal rahi hain, sab bandh ho jayengi".

He finally stepped back, lowering the gun, he turned but leaving he said "Aur tum inn sab me sabse pehle hoge."

(Translation: "Zorawar, if I don't get any news about that girl by morning... then every breath in this room will cease. And you'll be the first.")

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