As Anaya stepped off the stage, her gaze immediately sought out Ayaan. Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd and the admiring glances thrown her way, she made her way toward him. Stopping in front of him, she tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes.
"So? Gimme a review of my song," she asked, crossing her arms.
Ayaan stiffened. The weight of her expectation, mixed with something unfamiliar stirring within him, made him uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, but before a single word could escape, Dev interjected with dramatic enthusiasm.
"Ah, let me handle this!" Dev smirked, adjusting an imaginary pair of glasses. "As a professional and self-proclaimed music director, I must say—your vocal range was exquisite, but the emotional delivery? Now, that's where we enter the realm of true artistry…"
Anaya blinked at him, her smile twitching. Dev continued, diving into an exaggerated analysis of rhythm, melody, and soulful resonance, waving his hands like he was directing an orchestra.
Leaning toward Riya, Anaya whispered, "Divert him."
Riya raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Anaya grinned. "I'll pay your rent."
At that, Riya perked up and immediately turned to Dev. "Excuse me, but your so-called analysis lacks depth. You didn't even mention the transition between verses!"
Dev gasped, offended. "Oh, please! My analysis is impeccable—unlike yours, which sounds like a half-baked music critic who only listens to trending songs!"
As their yapping battle escalated, Anaya seized the moment. Without hesitation, she reached for Ayaan's hand and intertwined her fingers with his.
"Come with me," she said softly, pulling him away.
Ayaan, caught off guard, followed without resistance. The warmth of her touch lingered, and as he walked beside her, he couldn't shake the feeling that something—something he hadn't quite understood before—had just begun.
-----
Near the stage, the atmosphere had completely shifted. The singing competition was momentarily forgotten as Dev and Riya's heated "musical debate" reached its peak.
Some audience members shook their heads in amusement. "Is this a singing competition or a comedy show?" one of them muttered.
Another chuckled. "I came here for music, not a stand-up performance."
The realization hit Riya first. She snapped back to reality, glanced at the audience, and then at Dev, who was still passionately arguing about chord transitions. Her face turned red.
"Anaya, I WILL KILL YOU!" she screeched, realizing she had been set up.
At the same moment, Dev finally noticed the confused security guards approaching and frowned. "Wait, wait, wait—why is everyone looking at us?"
Before either of them could escape, the guards stepped forward. "Sir, ma'am, please leave the venue. You're disrupting the event."
Riya's mind raced. She had to get out of this. Just then, Sneha and Pooja emerged from the crowd, sensing their friend's impending doom.
Sneha quickly pointed at Dev. "Officers! That guy has been following us since morning! He won't stop harassing us!"
Pooja, catching on, nodded furiously. "Yes, yes! He even tried to critique our singing before we even performed!"
The guards exchanged glances. "Is this true?" one of them asked.
Dev's eyes widened. "Wha—NO! I was just discussing music! I—"
Before he could defend himself further, the security guards grabbed him by the arms. "Enough. You're out."
"WAIT! I HAVE RIGHTS!" Dev protested, struggling as he was dragged toward the exit. "MUSIC CRITICISM IS NOT A CRIME!"
Riya, meanwhile, slipped away unnoticed, making sure to vanish into the crowd before the guards realized she was equally guilty.
Meanwhile, at a Nearby Juice Shop...
Ayaan and Anaya watched the entire scene unfold from the comfort of a juice stall across the street. The moment Dev was unceremoniously tossed out of the competition venue, they both burst into laughter.
Anaya wiped a tear from her eye. "I can't believe he got kicked out."
Ayaan shook his head, still chuckling. "He kind of deserved it."
Anaya smirked. "Riya, too. But she was smart enough to escape."
Ayaan took a sip of his juice, still smiling. For a moment, he just observed Anaya, her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled in amusement.
And then, with more courage than he thought he had, he exhaled and said, "Let's talk."
Anaya blinked, surprised by his sudden seriousness. Then she nodded. "Alright."
For the first time, without interruptions, without distractions, it was just the two of them. And this time, Ayaan was ready.
----
Ayaan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before finally asking, "Who... who are you really?"
Anaya tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a soft smile. "I already told you. My name is Anaya."
Ayaan shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I want to know—who are you?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she watched him with an amused glint in her eyes before replying calmly, "Before I answer that… have you ever heard of 'First Blossom of Flower Is Called Love'?"
Ayaan's eyes widened. He froze, completely caught off guard by her words.
Anaya leaned slightly forward, her voice playful yet knowing. "It was my first song. Have you heard about it?"
She winked.
Ayaan's confidence wavered. He had been completely outmaneuvered. He scratched the back of his head, utterly lost. "I… I…" he stammered, realizing he had no idea how to respond.
A moment later, he sighed in defeat. "Okay, I admit it. You got me."
Anaya chuckled softly, watching his reaction. But then, her expression softened.
She looked at him, this time with sincerity in her gaze. "I know it might sound strange, but when I first saw you on that train, you looked nervous. That nervousness… it reminded me of the character in my first song."
Ayaan blinked.
Anaya smiled, her voice turning almost thoughtful. "That's why… you felt different from the others."
-----
High above the city lights, hidden within the darkness, a shadowy figure stood with a crimson axe resting on his shoulder. His gaze was fixed on the two figures at the juice shop—Ayaan and Anaya. A cold, eerie smile crept onto his lips.
"Looks like every piece on the chessboard is starting to move…" he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.
Then, in an instant, his expression twisted into pure hatred. His grip on the axe tightened, his knuckles turning white.
"Ayaan Veerendra... enjoy your remaining time with fun and joy. Because the next time when we meet... I will take everything from you."
A sharp gust of wind blew through the night. And just like that, the shadowy figure vanished into the darkness—leaving behind nothing but an ominous silence.