Chapter 23:Echoes in the Rain
The morning after the rooftop confession was unusually quiet.
Though the office buzzed with its usual rhythm—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, Aryan mumbling about someone stealing his yogurt from the communal fridge—for Zayan Khan, none of it registered.
He sat at his desk, suit perfect as always, yet his posture was anything but relaxed. His gaze drifted from the untouched report in front of him to the clock on the wall. Each second seemed louder than the last.
8:52 AM.
She still hadn't come in.
Zayan glanced at his phone.
No messages.
No calls.
Just silence.
His mind was no longer in this building. It was still on the rooftop, beneath that painted sky, in the curve of her trembling shoulders and the rawness in her voice.
"Why me? You have people like Aleena… not a mess like me."
The way she had said it—as if love was a mistake. As if she was something unworthy of it. The memory gripped his chest like an invisible rope, pulling tight.
He had never cared about a woman the way he cared about Andaleeb Shah. Not for her perfection. But for her truth.
Across Town – Zareen's Café
Eman stirred her coffee like it had insulted her in another life.
"She's avoiding him again," she muttered under her breath.
Across from her, Haroon was hunched over his tablet, scrolling through encrypted code, unaware of the cappuccino growing cold beside him. His expression was unreadable.
"She's scared," he replied finally, without looking up. "Not of him. Of herself."
"She always gets scared after she opens up. It's like clockwork." Eman sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears. "But this time… it's worse. She's different."
Haroon nodded grimly. "Her energy is unstable. Her heart's getting in the way."
He turned the tablet toward Eman.
A glowing graph lit the screen—oscillating waves, red spikes in the data.
"She's nearing breach level," Haroon said. "Emotional and neural patterns are converging. If the bond gets stronger, we may not be able to reverse it."
Eman's expression hardened. "So what—are you saying we erase him again?"
Silence.
Haroon didn't answer.
Because maybe, deep down, he wasn't sure he could go through with it either.
Later – Khan Global Enterprises
By afternoon, the weather changed with almost prophetic timing.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky, once blue, darkened to a threatening slate. Wind howled through the open spaces of the upper balcony where a company lunch was set up.
The storm arrived suddenly, mercilessly.
Umbrellas flipped. Dishes clattered. Staff members shrieked and scrambled for shelter.
And Andaleeb, arms filled with files, found herself ducking under a small white canopy propped against the emergency exit. Her breath hitched. Rain always unsettled her—not because of getting wet, but because it reminded her of her arrival. Of lightning. Of the night she landed.
She hugged the files to her chest, heart pounding, fingers twitching with static.
Then she wasn't alone.
Zayan stepped under the same shelter, brushing rain from his jacket. His hair was damp, a single strand falling over his forehead. He didn't speak immediately. His presence filled the space before his voice did.
"You didn't message."
Andaleeb swallowed hard. Her hands were wet—partly from the rain, partly from sweat. "I didn't know what to say."
"You always have something to say."
"I didn't… this time." Her voice was barely above the rain.
Lightning cracked across the sky, bright and sharp. A second later, thunder rolled through the air like drums from some invisible army.
Her fingers trembled. Then sparked—literally.
A soft electric pulse danced between her fingertips, blue and quick.
Zayan noticed.
He stepped closer.
"You're shaking."
"I always do during storms," she said.
He didn't believe her.
"No, you don't," he said quietly. "Not like this."
Another bolt of lightning. This time, the glow in her skin grew brighter. A soft halo at her fingertips, fading in and out like a whisper trying to be heard.
Zayan reached for her hands and gently took them in his.
She tried to pull away, but he held them firm—warm, grounding.
"I've seen it before," he whispered. "The elevator. The microwave. Even that time the coffee machine exploded when you got mad."
"You think you've seen something," she whispered, her voice tight.
"I know I've seen something." His eyes searched hers. "I don't know what it is. But I know it's you."
The thunder roared again. Her fingers glowed once more—then abruptly dimmed as her tears mixed with the rain already on her cheeks.
She pulled away, finally breaking contact.
"You should be afraid," she whispered.
"But I'm not."
Aleena's Office
High above the city skyline, Aleena Hashmi sat in her private penthouse office, one manicured hand curled around a glass teacup.
On her screen, grainy security footage played in a loop.
Andaleeb. Under the canopy. Glowing hands.
She zoomed in frame by frame.
There it was—the flicker of unnatural light.
Aleena smiled coldly.
"Not so innocent after all."
She reached for her phone and dialed a secure number. Her voice was low, controlled.
"Send this to Sector Nine. They'll know what to do."
She paused.
"And keep eyes on Zayan. I think he's closer to her than we thought. He might be compromised."
Haroon's Lab
The hum of tech machines filled the underground lab. Screens blinked with alien language, pulse maps, and planetary alignments.
Haroon's fingers flew across the keyboard. Then—
ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED TRACE DETECTED. SATELLITE LOG BREACH – ORIGIN UNKNOWN.
His stomach dropped.
He stood, checking the coordinates.
"Someone's trying to access her records."
He quickly encrypted the data, isolating the core signal. Every second mattered.
If this information got into government hands… if they found out who Andaleeb really was…
It wouldn't just cost her heart.
It would cost her existence.
Nightfall – The Ride Home
The storm had calmed, but the city still glistened with the aftermath—puddles catching reflections of streetlights, car tires hissing against wet roads.
Zayan's black car pulled up outside the office building. He didn't text. Didn't honk. Just rolled the window down and waited.
Andaleeb stepped out with her bag clutched to her chest.
"Get in," he said.
No demands. No questions. Just that voice—low and steady like always.
She hesitated, then opened the door and slid into the seat.
The ride was silent for a while. Only the soft tapping of rain on the windshield filled the space between them.
Finally, he spoke.
"Why do you keep running from me?"
She looked down. The pendant glowed faintly beneath the collar of her coat.
"I'm not what you think I am."
"I know," he said, simply.
She looked up, startled.
"But you're exactly what I need."
Her eyes widened.
"I don't care what you are, Andaleeb," he continued. "Alien, angel, accident from the sky—I don't care. I care about you."
She stared at him, stunned.
"You said I deserve Aleena," he said. "But I've never looked at Aleena the way I look at you. Like you're the one thing in this world that makes sense when everything else is chaos."
Tears burned in her eyes.
He stopped the car outside her apartment, but didn't unlock the door.
"I don't need perfect," he said. "I need real. And you, chaos and all… you're the only real thing I've ever had."
She covered her mouth, trying to hold back emotion.
Then, slowly, he leaned in.
A kiss—first on her forehead. Soft. Meaningful.
Then another. Lower. On her cheek.
Gentle. Searching.
Her breath caught.
He whispered against her skin, "I'm not letting you go. Not again."
Midnight – Andaleeb's Room
Her room was dim, the only light coming from the pendant on her chest. It blinked steadily like a second heart—faster than normal.
She stood at the window, watching the city below.
So many humans. So much noise.
Yet her thoughts stayed on one.
Zayan.
The reflection in the glass shimmered faintly. Her pendant projected soft blue symbols.
Connection breach: 82%. Protocol instability increasing.
She didn't flinch.
Emotion surge approaching irreversible level.
Her fingers brushed the pendant gently.
Andaleeb whispered, "Then let it be irreversible."
For once, she didn't care what the Council said.
She didn't care about the rules or the protocols.
She cared about the way he looked at her.
Like she was home.
And in the silence of that midnight hour, a quiet realization bloomed in her chest.
She couldn't keep the truth from him much longer.
But maybe…
Maybe love could save them both.
End of Chapter 24