12."THE EYES FROM THAT NIGHT."

[Rayaan's Private Gym – Early Morning]

Every punch that landed on the heavy bag carried a storm inside Rayaan.

And in the center of that storm… was a single face.

Lyra.

But today, it wasn't just her face. It was her eyes. Her pain. Her silence.

And that tiny cut on her hand.

That cut… that scar… it wasn't new.

It was from 2.5 years ago.

---

[FLASHBACK]

When Rayaan opened his eyes, there was nothing but darkness.

A dim light flickered somewhere above, and through the haze of pain, he saw only a pair of trembling hands wearing gloves.

A girl's voice, soft yet steady, broke the silence:

> "You have to stay alive. I don't want to remember your face."

Her hands worked quickly, wrapping his wounds with makeshift bandages, injecting life back into his broken body.

She didn't ask questions.She didn't run.

Back then, he was the most wanted man alive — a mafia king, bloodied and broken.

But that girl… she didn't leave him to die.

Rayaan's vision blurred, but her eyes…

Those eyes burned into his soul.

Lyra.

And he remembered something else — a small cut on her own hand as she tied the cloth tighter around his wound.

She didn't even flinch.

That night… she saved him without a name, without a promise.

But Rayaan never forgot.

---

> "It was you, Lyra.

You were the one who kept me alive that night.

You forgot… but I didn't.

You may not remember the blood… the pain… the silence.

But I do.

And whoever is behind your pain today… I will destroy them."

[Mansion Terrace – Morning]

Lyra shut her diary with trembling hands. She hadn't slept all night.

Her heart whispered — remember something… anything.

But what?

What was she supposed to bring back from the darkness?

With shaking fingers, she typed into the search bar:

> "Unregistered nurse saved injured mafia man 2.5 years ago."

One blurred news article appeared:

"Volunteer disappears after saving mafia king – identity never confirmed."

Lyra's breath caught.

Her eyes fixed on the blurred image.

Those eyes.

That glare.

That night.

A whisper escaped her lips:

> "Was I there? Was it you?"

And then… flashes started coming back.

Blood.

Gloves.

A man bleeding out in the dark.

Her hands holding pressure on a wound.

Her refusal to call an ambulance.

Her heartbeat quickened.

The pieces were falling back together.

This wasn't just fate.

This was something deeper.

---

The entire day, Lyra drowned in questions.

By nightfall, she couldn't hold back anymore.

---

[Next Morning ]

Lyra found him standing near the glass railing, sunlight reflecting off his sharp features.

"I need to ask you something," her voice cracked.

"Do you remember the girl… the one who saved your life that night?"

Rayaan didn't speak. He only looked at her.

And then, in a voice that felt like the weight of truth:

"That was you."

Lyra froze. Her breath hitched.

"Me…?"

Her memories were fragmented, unclear.

She wanted to deny it — and yet, his words… the flashes… the ache in her chest wouldn't let her.

Rayaan stepped closer.

"I'm alive because a girl forgot her fear that night.

She didn't ask for a name. She didn't want gratitude. But I never forgot her eyes."

His gaze pierced through her soul.

"And those eyes… they're yours."

Lyra's knees gave out, and she sank into the chair behind her, silent, breathless.

"How… how could I forget?"

Her tears fell freely now.

"That night… you were…"

Rayaan knelt beside her, his voice soft yet unyielding:

"You saved me, Lyra.

And from that day, I've been trying to keep you alive."

Suddenly, the flashes became sharper —

Gloves.

Blood.

The sound of his heartbeat slowing.

Her own whispered prayers.

It was all real.

It was all him.

"So when you looked at me… all this time… you already knew me?"

Her voice trembled.

"When you stayed silent… when you gave me shelter… was it just repayment? Sympathy?"

Rayaan's jaw clenched. Her words cut deeper than any bullet.

For a moment, he looked away, then met her gaze again.

"No, Lyra.

This was never repayment. And it was never sympathy.The night you saved me, you didn't even tell me your name.

So tell me — how could this be about debts?

I brought you with me because I couldn't watch you break.

Because I wanted you to live."

Her tears fell harder.

He reached for her hand — slowly, deliberately — and for the first time, didn't let go.

"You forgot that night, Lyra.

But I relived it every single day.

I searched for you in every shadow, in every face.

And now… you're here.

Don't burden yourself with the past.

I'm right here."

He gently placed his hand on her head, letting her lean into his strength.

For the first time, she let herself breathe.

[Evening – Mansion Corridor]

Lyra walked to Zorav, her voice barely above a whisper:

"That night… when Rayaan was hidden… were you there?"

Zorav nodded slowly.

"But it wasn't us who saved him.

It was a girl… a girl who said only one thing:

'Don't remember me.'"

Lyra's chest constricted.

Her voice cracked as she whispered to herself:

"It was me… it was always me."

But her next question lingered like a thorn:

"What really happened that night, Zorav?"

Zorav hesitated.

"An ambush. Rivals wanted him dead."

But something in his tone… something he didn't say… left Lyra uneasy.

That night, Rayaan placed an old diary in Lyra's room.

Its cover read:

"The Eyes From That Night."

The first page bled with words that stole her breath:

> "You could forget me, Lyra…

But I remembered you every moment.

I lived because of you.

I didn't want your name… just the memory of your eyes.

And now… you're here.

And I can't lose you again."

Lyra pressed the diary to her chest, tears falling silently.

Her past was no longer a blur.

Her heart no longer a stranger.

---

Lyra's POV

Maybe fate tied our threads long ago. Maybe that's why life kept throwing us together — in blood, in silence, in brokenness.

That night, I saved him.

This time… he saved me.

And somewhere between his eyes, his words, and his presence,

I feel alive again.

If Rayaan wasn't in my life… I don't know who I would've been.

If I hadn't met him that night… maybe neither of us would've survived.

This story was always about us — meeting, breaking, healing, and finding each other again.