Arjun's Pov
If someone had told me this night would turn into a plot twist straight out of a cheesy romance novel, I would've laughed and ordered another drink. But here I was, stuck in the middle of this club that smelled like sweat, expensive perfume, and bad decisions — completely useless, holding my glass like it held the answers to life.
Ravi was busy sweet-talking a girl who looked two seconds away from asking him for his bank balance, and Vikram, the man, the myth, the walking Spotify ad, was still trying to convince the DJ to play some underground nonsense no one's ever heard of. And me? I was busy getting hypnotized by a pair of dark green eyes across the room.
And I realized the night wasn't done messing with me. The moment I finally gathered the courage to walk toward her — to know her name, to say something smart or at least sound human — Natasha turned toward me, her voice dragging me back into reality. And when I looked back, the Mystery Girl was gone.
Like she had vanished into thin air.
Like she was never even there.
I stood there, blinking like an idiot, half expecting her to pop back up like some magic trick. Spoiler: she didn't.
Natasha was still somewhere close, chatting away like the queen of the night, but I needed air. Scratch that — I needed a drink.
Dragging myself back to the bar, I planted my elbows on the counter like a man who'd just lost a lottery he never entered. The bartender — the same guy from earlier — tall, sharp-jawed, with eyes that looked like they'd seen too much and lips curved into a permanent smirk, slid over like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Vey," he introduced casually, wiping down a glass. "Short for Veytal. And you look like you could use something stronger than whatever you were drinking before."
Before I could even order, he tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth but edged with something more knowing.
"So... do you like her?"
I nearly choked on air. My brain instantly defaulted to Natasha — obviously — because who else would people think about when I was involved? I coughed, straightened up, trying to play it cool.
"Who? Natasha?"
Vey raised an eyebrow, amused, like he'd been expecting the wrong answer.
"No, not the princess." He nodded slightly toward the empty space where the Mystery Girl had stood.
"The Red Fire."
That hit different. My throat went dry, and for a second, I forgot how to lie properly.
"Nah," I muttered, but the ache in my chest gave me away. It sat there like a tiny traitor, heavy and unsettled, reminding me that even denying it wasn't enough to make it go away.
Vey caught the lie — his smirk softened into something deeper, more knowing, and a little too calm for comfort.
"One piece of advice, my friend…" he paused, swirling the glass in his hand.
"Don't fall for her. For your sake. And for hers."
The words landed heavier than the whiskey I'd just ordered. And the way he said it, it wasn't a joke. It wasn't a tease. It was the kind of warning people leave nailed to old, creaky doors before the monster comes out.
I nodded, mostly to end the conversation, ordered another glass of Irish whiskey, and left the bar. But even as I walked away, I could still feel his words clinging to me like a second skin.
The night unraveled around me — faces blurred, conversations floated past like background noise in a badly tuned radio. My friends' laughter, the beat of the music, the smell of spilled cocktails — all of it faded behind the only thing my mind cared to hold onto: her.
Vikram nudged me at some point, his voice slicing through the haze.
"Dude, what's up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost."
I blinked, forcing a laugh. "Nothing. Just tired."
Ravi snorted, raising his glass.
"Tired? Or thinking about the red dress?"
I rolled my eyes, but the flush that crawled up my neck betrayed me.
"I'm not thinking about anyone."
"Yeah, sure," Vikram grinned. "You keep telling yourself that, Romeo."
The teasing never let up. They dragged it out the whole night — exaggerated glances, dramatic sighs, even full-on pointing whenever someone in red passed by. Normally I'd laugh, maybe even play along, but tonight it wasn't funny. It wasn't even close.
And then there was Natasha — who left the club without her usual parade of goodbyes. She'd spent the whole night trying to get my attention, and I'd barely offered her a glance. The guilt twisted in my gut, but it wasn't enough to untangle the mess inside my head.
"I think you broke Natasha's heart, dude," Vikram half-joked as we watched her leave.
"I didn't do anything," I muttered, eyes still stuck somewhere else. "She'll be fine."
But the truth was, I wasn't so sure.
And maybe... neither was I.
When I finally made it home, the silence felt louder than the club ever was. Lying in bed, I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep to knock me out cold — but it didn't.
Her face followed me there too.
And when sleep finally came, it wasn't peace that greeted me.
It was her.
The world around me was strange — a barren stretch of land, endless and empty. Thrones were scattered across the cracked earth, and people sat on them like royalty carved from stone, their faces nothing more than a blur, like the universe itself was keeping their identities secret.
And in the middle of them all — her.
Wearing a red bridal lehenga, her beauty more unreal than ever, like she belonged to a different world entirely. But her eyes, those dark green eyes that haunted me even awake, were drowning in tears.
She was crying.
And the sight of it broke something in me.
I tried to move, tried to call out to her — but I couldn't hear my own voice. My body felt heavy, like I was chained to the ground, and all I could do was stand there, helpless, watching her fall apart while the thrones loomed silent and distant around her.
Every part of me screamed to reach her. Every nerve pulled tight with the need to hold her, to protect her from whatever pain she carried. But before I could even take a step, the world fractured. The sky cracked like glass under pressure, the ground shifted, and everything disappeared — except the ache.
When I jolted awake, I wasn't sure if I'd truly left the dream. My chest ached, heavy and hollow at once, like I'd left something unfinished in that other world.
A loud thud rattled my door, snapping me out of the fog.
I rubbed my eyes, barely able to breathe past the weight pressing against my ribs. My legs moved on autopilot as I opened the door.
Karn stood there — but it wasn't the usual older-brother look on his face. His jaw was tight, his eyes sharp and urgent.
"Dad and Grandpa need to see you."
"Why? What's going on?" My voice came out hoarse, still thick with the leftover dread from the dream.
Karn didn't answer, just motioned for me to follow. The silence between us said more than any explanation could.
When I reached the living room, the entire family was gathered, voices hushed, tension thick enough to choke on. Everyone looked like they'd aged a decade since I last saw them.
And then I heard it.
The sentence that shattered whatever was left of my night.
**"We've found her."**
**"We've found that witch."**
And just like that, the world tilted off its axis.