Chapter 2: The Devil's Eyes
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The night hadn't ended when Aarohi went to bed.
She laid there in her tiny, quiet room, staring up at the ceiling with eyes wide open, heart pacing like she had run a marathon. But she hadn't run. She had stood still, like prey caught in headlights. Even now, hours later, her body remembered the weight of that gaze. The voice. The power in his stillness.
Rudra.
The name felt carved into her skin.
She had placed the black card on her desk before curling up under the covers, hoping sleep would come if she pretended none of it had happened.
It didn't.
Instead, memories swirled like a storm—his deep voice, the way the crowd had parted, his eyes, those merciless eyes that had lingered on her like he was memorising her soul.
And the worst part?
She hadn't wanted to look away.
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Morning came late and heavy.
She moved through her small flat with the grace of a sleepwalker—mechanical, numb. Tea boiled over before she remembered she'd left it on the stove. The mirror showed her a girl with dark circles under her eyes, hair tied in a messy braid, lips pressed into a tight, confused line.
She shook her head, splashed cold water on her face, and grabbed her work bag. The ordinary life she knew waited for her outside.
Except nothing felt ordinary anymore.
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At the publishing office, her coworker Tanya raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"
Aarohi offered a bland smile. "Just couldn't sleep."
Tanya smirked. "Let me guess—mystery man in a black suit, brooding eyes, and questionable morals?"
Aarohi choked on her coffee.
"I was joking!" Tanya laughed, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Are you serious?"
"No," Aarohi said quickly, maybe too quickly. "It's nothing. Just a weird day."
She buried herself in manuscripts, desperate for distraction. But even as she read love confessions and passionate embraces in fictional pages, her mind kept going back to him.
Who was he?
And why did it feel like the world shifted slightly off-axis the moment he spoke her name?
---
That evening, Aarohi took the long way home. The streets were quieter, the lights softer, and the silence more bearable. She needed space. She needed to clear her head.
But when she passed by a small tea stall, the owner looked up and smiled warmly. "Extra ginger, right?"
She nodded with a soft thank you.
The familiar flavor grounded her. For a moment, she was just a girl in a city full of strangers. Safe. Invisible.
Until her eyes caught something unusual across the road.
A black car. Tinted windows. Silent. Still.
It wasn't moving.
And something in her gut clenched.
He was there. Watching.
Her heart began to race—not from fear, but something far more dangerous.
Awareness.
---
She refused to look again.
She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She sipped her tea, turned, and walked away like she hadn't noticed anything.
But her pulse betrayed her. Her breath shortened. She could *feel* him.
The devil didn't always wear horns.
Sometimes, he wore tailored suits and whispered your name like a secret.
---
Two days passed.
He didn't call. Didn't appear. The car never showed up again.
Aarohi told herself it was over. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. Maybe he had just been…curious.
But then, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She hesitated.
And picked up.
"Hello?"
The voice was unmistakable.
"Wear something red tonight."
Her stomach dropped.
"Excuse me?"
"Hotel Imperial. Rooftop. 8 PM."
Her hand tightened around the phone. "I never said—"
The line went dead.
No explanation. No invitation.
Just a command.
---
7:40 PM.
Aarohi stood in front of her closet, staring at the red dress.
It wasn't flashy. Just elegant. Clean lines, soft fabric, a flare at the bottom. She had worn it once to Meera's party. That night, she had felt beautiful. Confident.
Now, she felt like she was walking into a lion's den.
But she wore it anyway.
Not because he asked. But because she *wanted* to look unshaken.
He would not control her.
---
The rooftop of Hotel Imperial was quiet. Too quiet.
Just two tables. One occupied.
Rudra sat with a glass of wine, staring out over the city as though he owned it.
When she approached, he didn't rise. Didn't smile.
But his eyes flicked to her dress. For a second.
Then back to her face.
"You came," he said simply.
"You didn't leave much of a choice."
"There's always a choice."
She sat down. "So, what is this?"
He took a sip of wine. "Curiosity."
She laughed. Bitter and sharp. "You kidnapped my attention, stalked me in the dark, and now you're 'curious'? Do you always play chess with strangers' lives?"
He smiled. The kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't usually talk to strangers. You're the exception."
"Why?"
"You didn't flinch."
"When?"
"That night."
She looked away, fingers tightening around her purse.
"I wanted to," she whispered.
"But you didn't."
He leaned back in his chair, like he was evaluating her.
"You're not like the others."
"Is that supposed to flatter me?"
"It's meant to warn you."
Aarohi's breath caught.
He wasn't trying to scare her.
He was trying to *protect* her.
That made it worse.
Because men like Rudra didn't protect. They destroyed.
---
Dinner was served, though she barely touched it. He didn't eat either.
Instead, they talked—or danced around truths like skilled performers.
She asked where he was from.
He said, "Farther than most dare to go."
She asked what he did.
He said, "Things you shouldn't ask about."
She asked why her.
He said nothing for a long time.
And then: "Because when I look at you, I forget what silence feels like."
She didn't know what to say to that.
So she didn't say anything.
---
As the night deepened, he finally stood. Walked toward her side of the table.
She stood too, suddenly unsure of everything.
He leaned close.
Not touching. But so near she could feel the heat of him.
"If you're smart," he said quietly, "you'll forget me."
"I'm trying."
His eyes softened, just a crack.
"Not hard enough."
---
He walked her to the elevator.
Aarohi stepped in.
And just before the doors closed, he said—
"Next time, don't wear red unless you want me to lose control."
The doors slid shut.
Her knees buckled only once she was alone.
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