Aryan went straight home that night, his mind racing and heart still burning with determination. He barely slept. While the world outside moved on, Aryan locked himself in his room—papers spread across his floor, laptop running day and night, old news articles stacked beside him, files printed, notes scribbled, names circled in red.
He traced Aarohi's life back to every shadow. He talked to people who once knew her, visited places she had been, and most of all, followed the one name that kept showing up in whispers and buried reports—her father.
The deeper he dug, the darker the truth became.
Days turned into nights, and nights into more sleepless days. Until finally—he found it. The pieces came together. And what he saw chilled him to the bone.
Aryan stared at the folder in his hands, stunned. His hands trembled as he held the truth—hidden crimes, forged identities, payoffs, disappearances. A legacy of destruction masked by power and silence.
Without wasting a second, he called Meera.
"Meet me," he said urgently. "I need to show you something."
They met at a quiet café tucked into a corner of the city. It was raining, the soft drizzle painting the windows in streaks of grey. Meera was already there, nervously drumming her fingers against her cup.
When Aryan arrived, he didn't say much. He simply handed her a thick folder—worn, slightly crumpled, but heavy with truth.
"Read it," he said.
Meera opened it slowly. Her eyes scanned the first few pages… and then widened. Shock filled her face as she flipped page after page, horror mounting with every word.
"This… this can't be true," she whispered. "Aarohi's father? All this time?"
Aryan leaned in, his voice low but intense. "He's not just powerful, Meera. He's dangerous. He's destroyed people—ruined lives—and Aarohi… she's in the middle of it all. Maybe she's even protecting him."
"But why?" Meera asked. "Why would she protect someone like him?"
Aryan shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe guilt. Maybe fear. Maybe… love, even if it's twisted."
He paused. "But I'm going to end it. I'll take this to the media. Expose him. Let the world see what he really is. Aarohi may hate me for it… but it'll set her free."
Just as Meera opened her mouth to respond—
The bell above the café door rang.
They both turned.
And there she was.
Aarohi stood at the entrance, drenched in rain, her eyes burning with something between betrayal and heartbreak.
She walked slowly toward their table, each step silent but thunderous.
Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet… but it cut like a blade.
"So this is what you've been doing behind my back, Aryan?"
Aryan stood up, his face pale but unwavering. "You weren't going to tell me the truth. I had no choice."
Aarohi's gaze shifted to Meera, then to the folder still lying open.
"I warned you," she said, her voice trembling now. "I told you not to dig into my past."
"You didn't tell me why," Aryan replied. "You left me in the dark while you suffered alone. You think this is betrayal? No, Aarohi. This is rescue."
But Aarohi's face twisted in pain. "You don't understand… you never will. You think exposing him will free me? You'll only destroy me with him."
Meera stood frozen, the folder in her lap, her heart racing.
And in that moment, the quiet café no longer felt comfortable.
Aarohi's fingers hovered over the folder Aryan handed her, her expression unreadable. Then, with a steady breath, she opened it and began reading aloud.
Her voice sliced through the café.
"CASE FILE 07: Illegal arms transfer, rerouted through personal shipments. Linked to—Suryavanshi Enterprises. Signature—Ratan Malhotra."
Aryan flinched.
"Aarohi—"
But she ignored him.
"CASE FILE 12: Multi-state money laundering. Over ₹300 crore disappeared through shell companies under Suryavanshi Enterprises. Main suspect: Ratan Malhotra."
A hush fell across the café. Heads turned. Phones lifted. People whispered.
She kept going.
"CASE FILE 21: Missing journalist Meenal Rao. Last seen collecting files on Ratan Malhotra's land deals. Evidence tampered. Case dismissed without trial."
Meera shifted nervously. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table.
"CASE FILE 29: Suspected double homicide. Victims: Dr. Shiv and Alina Grover. Hospital: Malhotra General, a Suryavanshi Enterprises affiliate. Cause of death altered post-mortem."
Each line hit harder than the last.
Aryan tried again. "Aarohi, that's enough—"
But she snapped the next page open. Her eyes scanned it fast—then the next, and another. Her voice had grown colder, louder, stronger.
"CASE FILE 34: Bribery, blackmail, illegal survey----"
She flipped one more page.
Then suddenly—she froze.
Something shifted in her eyes.
They darkened.
Her hand crumpled the page she was holding.
Meera noticed. "Aarohi?"
But Aarohi didn't respond. Her lips pressed tight. Her jaw locked. She stared at the words in front of her, breathing shallowly—as if they'd punched the air out of her lungs.
Then—
Without a word—
BANG!
A bullet ripped through the air and into Aryan's leg.
He cried out and fell to the ground, clutching his thigh, blood staining his jeans.
Chairs crashed. Screams filled the café. People ducked, ran, scattered.
Meera stood in shock, frozen, heart hammering.
Aarohi raised the gun again, her eyes filled with fury.
"I told you not to dig," she said, trembling with rage. "I told you this wasn't your war, Aryan. You never listen. Now this… this is your reward."
Aryan groaned, trying to crawl back. "What… what did you see?"
But Aarohi didn't answer.
She just stared at the paper still clenched in her hand, as if it had betrayed her soul.
Anger in her eyes was visible. Then she goes from there leaving aryan and meera behind. She slammed the door . Everyone watched her.