Chapter Eighty Three.

Chapter Eighty Three.
"It's an IT, not a selection for a new Queen." Veda rolled her eyes.

The banter, though brief, lightened the atmosphere for a heartbeat.

Veda looked at her friend, really looked, at the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, how she never hesitated to pull Veda back from the edge whenever she started to slip.

"I’ll miss you.." Veda said suddenly, her voice cracking slightly at the edges.

Samaira turned serious and squeezed her hand again.

"I’ll miss you more, dumbhead. But we’ll be fine. You’ll be in Bangalore, I’ll be in Pune… and we’ll still be in each other’s lives. You’ll see. Call me the moment you settle in."

"I will," Veda whispered.

"And if you get a weekend off…" Samaira added, lifting her brows.

"I’ll come visit," Veda promised, nodding. "I promise."

Samaira grinned, triumphant. "Oh, I can’t wait! We’ll paint the city red."

But Veda didn’t respond this time. Her gaze returned to the blur outside the window, to the sky that had begun to darken.

Her lips parted slightly as a breath escaped her—quiet, heavy, loaded.

‘Please... let this be the end. Let me breathe again.’

The thought hung in her mind like a silent prayer.

She didn’t say it aloud, but it echoed louder than words ever could.

Let him not follow. Let him not find me. Let me disappear...

♤♤♤

Veda was laughing.

For the first time in days, real laughter bubbled out of her.

Samaira had her trying spicy street golgappas one second and dragging her into tiny accessory shops the next.

They twirled together in front of a dusty mirror at one of the stalls after buying matching earrings, silver ones with little crescent moons that shimmered under the warm evening sun.

It was the kind of carefree moment Veda hadn’t experienced in so long, she forgot how it felt to smile without worry.

Forgot, for a while, that someone was still watching.

Because he always was.

From across the street, inside a parked car with tinted windows, one of Varun’s men clicked photos, capturing Veda’s fleeting joy with mechanical coldness.

He zoomed in on her laughing face, the way her hand brushed Samaira’s shoulder. Then typed quickly:

“They’re at Azad Market. Matching earrings. Smiling. Should I move closer?”
A photo attached. Sent.

Seconds later, Varun’s reply:

“No. Stay on them. Send everything. I want it all.”

Varun had just walked into the house, and immediately his expression hardened.

Familiar voices drifted from the living room. His mother’s laughter mixed with other women’s, high-pitched, chatty, filled with gossip. And then he saw her.

Diya.

She was seated beside his mother, her posture perfect, her eyes lighting up the moment they met his.

Her cheeks flushed with excitement. Varun’s jaw tightened. He said nothing and turned away, but his mother’s voice stopped him.

“Varun, Beta!” she called out brightly, standing up.

He paused, back still turned, hands slipping into his pockets as though forcing control over himself.

Slowly, he turned his head. The room fell quiet. Even Diya rose from her seat with bashful excitement.

“Hi, Varun..” she greeted, smoothing her Jean trouser, then stepping toward him like it was rehearsed.

He forced a stiff nod. “Ma..” he said curtly.

His mother’s face beamed. “Look who came to see you...” she gestured proudly toward Diya, who looked like she would melt under his gaze.

“Diya said she needed help with her studies. And I told her, why not ask my son?”

Varun’s brows furrowed. His gaze flicked from Diya to the other aunties seated on the couch, Diya’s mother among them, sipping tea as if this was some matchmaking fair.

He hated it.

“I… I really need help, Varun.” Diya added shyly, her voice soft, laced with false sweetness. “Please?”

He was about to decline. The word “no” was already on his lips when his mother stepped closer, her hand gently wrapping around his palm.

“Please, beta..” she whispered, low enough for only him to hear. “I already gave her mother my word. Just be kind.”

His jaw clenched.

He looked again at the women waiting, expectant. His mother’s pleading eyes. Diya, smiling so hopefully, her eyes fixed on him like he was hers already.

“Go to the study room..” he said finally, voice cold. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Without waiting for a reply, Varun turned and walked away.

His mother smiled brightly and turned to Diya. “See? He said yes. Now go, the two of you can begin. But no wasting time on chatting..” she teased.

Diya blushed and practically, biting back a smile. She was sure, absolutely sure, that she could win him over.

She just have to try harder. And now… she was finally going to be alone with him.

She didn’t know that Varun wasn’t thinking of her.

She noticed that Mrs. Sengar had turned her attention back to a cheerful conversation with her mother and some other aunties.

Smiling faintly, Diya took that as her chance. With silent, confident steps, she turned and headed toward the stairs.

Her fingers trailed lightly over the polished banister as she ascended, a thrill bubbling in her chest.

Her heart thudded with excitement the moment she reached the long, quiet corridor.

She didn’t hesitate, her eyes locked on the familiar door at the far end, a door she had memorized over the years.

Varun’s room.

A giddy smile danced on her lips.

Without knocking, she twisted the handle and slipped inside, closing the door behind her softly, almost reverently.

Her breath caught.

The air in the room was thick with his scent, rich, masculine, dark. It wrapped around her like a secret.

The space felt untouched by the outside world. She looked around slowly, taking in the dark furniture, the neatly arranged shelves, the silence, the cold strength of the place, it screamed Varun. Everything about it was so him.

She had never been here before.

He never allowed anyone in his room. He hated it. Guarded it like a vault.

Yet here she was.

She let out a soft, nervous giggle as her gaze drifted to his bed.

Her cheeks flushed just from looking at it. Without thinking too much, she walked over and sat down gently on the edge, her hands smoothing over the sheets as if they were sacred.

"This is where he sleeps.." she whispered to herself with a soft, infatuated grin.

Just then, something caught her attention.

The dim light from his bedside drawer flashed.

Curious, she got up and leaned closer, eyes narrowing at the screen. Varun’s phone had lit up, and what she saw made her freeze.

The lockscreen.

A photo.

A close-up of a girl. Pretty face. Messy hair. Cool, soft-looking caramel skin..

Familiar face..

Diya’s breath hitched. Her brows drew together.

“She looks… familiar…” she whispered. And then, like a punch to her gut, it hit her.

“Veda.”

Her heart dropped.

“Wait...why is her picture on his lo—”

But she didn’t get the chance to finish.

The walk-in closet door creaked open suddenly, and she jolted in panic.

Varun stepped out.