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The wind howled outside Nayan's mansion. The sky was moonless that night, veiled behind thick clouds as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath. Inside, the grand haveli stood like a mute witness—its walls too old, its corridors too long, and its air too heavy.

The faint thud that echoed from the living room still rang in Malti Mausi's ears.

She had rushed in, her heart pounding, and found Nayan—unmoving, curled slightly beside the heavy oak door, drenched in sweat, burning with fever.

"Shakti ji!! Satish!! Jaldi aayiye! Babua gir gaye hain!!"

(Shakti ji!! Satish!! Come quickly! Sir has fallen!!)

Shakti Mausa came running, his cotton kurta flapping behind him. He knelt beside Nayan, touched his forehead and immediately flinched.

"104 degree se kam nahi hoga... puri shirt bhi pasine se bheeg gayi hai."

(It can't be less than 104°F… his shirt is soaked in sweat.)

Nayan murmured something incoherent. His lips quivered, his fingers twitched.

"Maa... Subhangi... mat jao…"

(Mother... Subhangi... don't go…)

Shakti Mausa and Satish lifted him together and placed him on the drawing room sofa. Malti Mausi held a wet towel to his head as they dialed Sahil.

---

Scene Shift: 30 Minutes Later

Sahil burst through the mansion's main door, still wearing his black leather jacket, his face pale with worry.

"Where is he?"

"He's inside, drawing room… behosh hain."

As Sahil entered, the air felt heavy. The man who once ruled boardrooms, who terrified rivals with a single glance—now lay curled like a wounded animal, muttering fragments of broken dreams.

Sahil kneeled.

"Nayan? Bro, it's me... Sahil. Can you hear me?"

Nayan stirred. A pained breath escaped him. "Vaishnavi… nahi… mujhe maaf kar do…"

Sahil's brows furrowed. "Vaishnavi? What the hell…"

He looked at Mausi and whispered, "Get the doctor on video call. Now."

But Nayan wasn't just dreaming. His mind had plunged into a tunnel—back to the moments he never wanted to revisit. A second life. A second chance. His past was screaming through his veins.

---

Inside the Dream

The scene was bathed in the golden hue of a wedding mandap. Subhangi stood beside him, wrapped in red and gold, eyes brimming with love.

"Saat janmon tak tumhara saath dungi, Omkar."

(I will walk beside you for seven lifetimes, Omkar.)

Nayan—Omkar—smiled through tears, applying sindoor in her hairline. Laughter. Cheers. A promise.

Then another flash—Vaishnavi screaming on the cliff edge.

"Tumne mujhe kaha tha... tum bachaoge… Omkara!!"

(You said you would protect me… Omkara!!)

He ran, shouting her name, but her body had already fallen into the dark abyss. His screams were the only thing that remained.

Suddenly, Subhangi's photo covered in blood.

His own fingers trembling as he typed the last goodbye note before pulling the trigger.

"Yeh kahani adhoori thi. Par iss baar… poori karni hai."

(This story was left incomplete. But this time… I must finish it.)

---

Back in Reality

Nayan gasped loudly and sat upright, his body drenched, eyes wild.

Sahil grabbed his shoulder. "Breathe! It's okay—you're safe."

But Nayan wasn't looking at Sahil. He looked beyond him—as if staring at someone only he could see. His hand reached out weakly, fingers trembling.

"Subhangi…?"

Tears pooled in his eyes, but they didn't fall. He collapsed again, softer this time, back onto the cushion.

Sahil took a deep breath. "What's going on in that head of yours, brother…?"

He looked around the room. His eyes paused at the half-burnt cigar on the terrace table outside, the whiskey glass knocked over.

Something was wrong.

---

The Next Morning

Dr. Amol's voice buzzed through the phone speaker. "High fever due to mental and emotional breakdown. His vitals are okay now, but his mind needs rest. Did something happen recently?"

Sahil stayed silent for a moment before responding, "He's been carrying too much. For too long."

Malti Mausi brought soup. Satish silently cleaned the broken glass. And Shakti Mausa stood at the door—watching the boy he had raised like his own—fall apart silently.

---

Nighttime Confession (Nayan's Thoughts)

Later that night, Nayan sat alone again—this time inside, beside the fireplace. Wrapped in a soft shawl, a new notebook rested on his lap.

He opened it slowly and began writing.

"Main Nayan nahi hoon. Main Omkara hoon. Aur main har raat apne hi sach se ladta hoon."

(I am not Nayan. I am Omkara. And every night I battle the truth inside me.)

His pen continued—

"Duniya samajhti hai main business tycoon hoon. Lekin main ek adhoora pati, ek shikasta bhai, aur ek kaayar dost hoon. Maine apne sab kuch khoya... ab mujhe kuch wapas chahiye. Aagratha… tum meri Subhangi ho kya? Ya bas ek wajah ho jeene ki?"

(The world sees me as a tycoon. But I'm a broken husband, a failed brother, and a cowardly friend. I lost everything... now I just want one thing back. Aagratha... are you my Subhangi? Or just a reason to stay alive?)

He closed the notebook.

Looked at the cherry blossom trees outside.

And whispered—

"Ek aur mauka mila hai... is baar khud se bhi jhooth nahi bolunga."

(I've been given another chance… and this time, I won't lie to even myself.)

On the other side before the morning in nayan's mansion...

The moment the hospital clock struck 10:00 PM, Dr. Aagratha slipped out of her white coat, folded it neatly, and placed it in her locker. Her fingers trembled lightly as she tied her hair back and stepped out of the changing room. The weight of the day still hung on her shoulders, but her mind—well, it was somewhere else entirely.

She had just started her car—a sleek black KIA—when she exhaled deeply, letting her mind wander.

"Just one coffee," she murmured to herself, turning the wheel towards her escape. Towards Coffee & Cocaine.

The café was just 1900 meters away, barely a few minutes' drive. But today, as fate would have it, the road ahead was choked with vehicles. Her car came to a screeching halt near the OneSkys International Bank building, its tall structure piercing the orange skyline.

She glanced up at the OIB logo.

And suddenly, her thoughts began to drift—

Who was that man... the one who carried me, whose heartbeat I heard beneath my ear just a week ago?

His scent... it was real. Lotus and sandalwood—my favorites. But more than that... there was something about him. Even in the chaos, his presence gave me peace. Like... he was the only calm in a raging storm.

Her heart skipped.

And I—idiot—didn't even look at his face properly. Just... his jawline. Sharp. That Italian-style beard. That's all I remember.

But why... why is it etched so deeply in my memory?

Just then—

HOOOOONKKK!!

She snapped back to reality, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The signal had turned green.

"Shit," she whispered and quickly shifted gears.

But before she could move, a flurry of black SUVs cut past her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of one particular car. Tinted windows. Urgency in motion.

Her instincts flared.

She wasn't wrong.

Inside that SUV was Uttaraayan Shrivastava—Uttar.

He had just been discharged that morning, and the moment he received the news about his brother's deteriorating condition, he had thrown caution to the wind. He didn't care about bed rest or the doctor's advice. He needed to get home. Now.

His car slowed down momentarily as the jam thickened—right beside Aagratha's KIA.

A suited assistant jumped out of the SUV ahead and tapped on her window.

"Ma'am, please! Could you move your car to the side? There's an emergency. Mr. Uttar Shrivastava's elder brother is seriously unwell."

Startled, Aagratha immediately rolled down her window.

"Oh—I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was blocking! I'm a doctor. Can I help in any way?"

The assistant paused, considering. But then he shook his head politely. "No need, ma'am. Doctors are already on-site. Mr. Uttar was just discharged today, and he's going home to check on his brother. We really appreciate the gesture."

"I understand," she said softly, reversing slightly and steering her car to the side. "Please, go ahead."

The assistant gave her a grateful nod and rushed back.

But inside the trailing car, behind the tinted glass—Uttar had seen it all.

Her face.

Her calm.

Her voice.

"So it's her… she's the one who saved me..." he thought.

And yet, he didn't act. Didn't roll down the window. Didn't stop.

Not like this.

Not in a street full of strangers. Not when she looked so peaceful. So unaware.

He exhaled and leaned back into his seat.

I'll meet her tomorrow. Privately. Not like this. She deserves to know the truth—directly from me.

And the SUV sped ahead.

Aagratha stared after it, a faint crease forming on her brows.

Something about that moment felt... important.

The chaos resumed. The city buzzed. The world kept moving.

But for two strangers—

The clock had just begun.