'Can I get a kiss before we stab each other in the back?'

Three years ago

United Kingdom, Boston, Lincolnshire

Stars, when representing loved ones, are both beautiful and painful. Distant, luminous, and making people feel as though they shine only for them.

Shravanya Menon thought the same as she gazed at the stars from her window, her hand gently caressing her heavily pregnant, eight-month belly.

She smiled, because the stars reminded her of her boyfriend, the way they continued to shine even in the darkness surrounding them.

Her gaze fell on the mirror, and a soft smile curved her lips when she noticed her pregnant belly. The sight instantly made her miss the love of her life, who had left on a business trip and was due to return the very next day.

She still remembered how much she had reassured him, promising she would be fine, insisting he go ahead with the important trip without worrying about her. Before leaving, he had carefully instructed their neighbour, Ms. Batra, the only Indian woman in the building, to keep an eye on Shravanya.

He did not like Ms. Batra much. She was, without question, the nosiest woman he had ever met. But that very nosiness made her the most aware of their situation, and ultimately, the safest choice.

Just as she was lost in thoughts of him, her phone rang, his name flashing on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered fondly as she lay back on the bed and picked up the call.

"How's my ridiculously beautiful girlfriend doing," he asked, his voice already smiling, "and how's our tiny troublemaker?"

Shravanya laughed softly, settling onto the bed and resting her palm over her belly. "The baby's behaving... for now. Can't say the same about their mother."

"Oh?" His tone dipped, intrigued. "Should I be concerned?"

"Very," she said lightly. "The baby misses their father. And the baby's mother is feeling dangerously neglected."

There was a brief pause which was very much deliberate.

"Shravi," he said, amused and low, "you didn't even say hello."

She hummed. "Hello comes later. Priorities."

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "You're enjoying this way too much. Is this the pregnancy talking, or have you always been this bold and I just missed it?"

She smiled to herself. "Let's blame the hormones. They make me honest."

"Well, those hormones are doing a fantastic job," he said. "If I were home right now-"

"You'd still be late," she cut in smoothly. "And stressed. And blaming me for distracting you."

"Worth it," he shot back without missing a beat. "Absolutely worth it."

She laughed. "Go focus before you get yourself into trouble, Mr. Nair."

He sighed theatrically. "You're cruel. Tease me all you want now, but you're not getting away with it once I'm back."

"We'll discuss that," she replied sweetly.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, filled with soft breathing and unspoken affection.

"Shravi," he said quietly, the playful edge melting away, "I'll be home soon. I promise."

Her chest tightened. "Come fast, Krish. The house feels... empty without you."

"I know," he murmured. "I miss you. Both of you." Then, lighter, "Are you eating properly?"

She smiled. "Yes. No skipping. I'm being good."

"You better," he said fondly. "I need my family exactly how I left them, safe, healthy, and waiting for me."

"I'll be waiting," she whispered.

A voice called out faintly from his end. "Mr. Nair?"

She smiled knowingly. "That's your cue."

"Yeah," he replied reluctantly. "I'll call later."

"Take care," she said softly. "And don't overwork yourself."

"Only because you told me to," he said, then added gently, "Bye, love."

"Bye, Krish."

The call ended, and she held the phone against her chest for a moment longer, her smile lingering, fragile, precious, unaware of how fleeting this peace truly was.

The silence returned, but this time, it didn't feel entirely lonely.

Shravanya glanced at the clock.

11:42 p.m.

She exhaled tiredly and pulled the sheets over her legs. Just as she began to settle in, the sharp echo of the doorbell sliced through the quiet apartment.

Her breath hitched.

The bell rang again.

Her fingers curled into the blanket. Who could it be at this hour?

Krishav was miles away. That much she knew.

A neighbour, maybe. Or the security desk.

Yet something about the sound unsettled her. It wasn't hesitant. It wasn't careless.

It was deliberate.

Slowly, she sat up, her heartbeat quickening.

Was it her imagination, or had the silence grown heavier?

She pressed a hand to her chest, steadying herself, and moved toward the door. Through the peephole, she saw a man in a security guard's uniform standing in the corridor, his back turned toward her apartment.

Relief washed over her.

Maybe it was routine. A late-night check. A message from the front desk.

Still... something felt wrong.

Why wasn't he facing the door? Why hadn't he called?

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the lock. The apartment felt unnaturally still, broken only by the distant hum of the city.

Every instinct warned her to be careful.

Swallowing, she twisted the lock and opened the door just enough to peer out.

The hallway light flickered overhead as the man turned slowly to face her.

Her breath caught.

The uniform was right, the badge, the cap, the crisp shirt, but the face was unfamiliar. He wasn't the usual guard. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his lips curving into a smile that made her skin prickle.

"Ms. Menon?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost rehearsed.

"Yes?" she replied cautiously, her grip tightening on the door.

"A delivery," he said calmly. "Urgent. You need to sign."

A delivery? At this hour?

Her unease sharpened.

"Who sent it?" she asked, buying time.

For the briefest second, his jaw tightened.

"From Mr. Nair," he said smoothly.

The words drained the warmth from her body. Krishav wouldn't do this. He would have told her.

"I think there's a mistake," she said firmly. "You can leave it downstairs."

The man's polite expression slipped.

"Ma'am," he snapped, irritation flashing through his voice, "just sign the damn-"

Shravanya slammed the door.

Or at least, she tried.

Before she could force the door shut, his foot jammed into the gap.

Panic detonated in her chest.

"What the hell-"

He shoved the door open with sudden force, sending her stumbling backward. The door slammed against the wall as he stepped inside.

And then, the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the apartment whole.

The soft, unmistakable click of the door locking echoed through the silence.

A shiver raced down Shravanya's spine.

She wasn't alone.

In the suffocating dark, she sensed movement, more than one presence. Silent. Calculated. The faint rustle of fabric and the subtle shift of weight made her stomach twist with dread.

Then, a click.

A dim, flickering glow bloomed in the room.

The man in the security uniform stood before her, holding a small oil lamp. Its weak light barely reached beyond his face, but it was enough.

Enough for her to see them.

Three more men. Dressed in black. Watching.

Her pulse thundered as she stumbled back, instinct screaming at her to run. She barely took a step before hands seized her. Too many hands, coming from everywhere.

"No-" The sound never fully escaped. A cloth was pressed tightly over her mouth, smothering her scream.

She struggled, kicked, fought with everything she had, her body screaming in protest. But they were stronger. Faster. Relentless.

Within moments, rough restraints tightened around her wrists and ankles, forcing her down onto the bed.

Helpless. Trapped.

The panic in her chest grew until it became suffocating, a crushing weight that stole the air from her lungs.

One of the men leaned closer, his shadowed face twisting in cruel amusement as he studied her fear like entertainment.

"Such a fighter," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face with mocking gentleness.

Shravanya recoiled as far as the ropes allowed, pure terror flooding her veins.

This was not a robbery.
This was not a mistake.

They had come for her.

And there was no way out.

Her breath hitched when cold fingers grazed her skin, deliberate and invasive. The man closest to her reached for the buttons of the shirt she was wearing, Krishav's shirt, and began undoing them slowly, as if savouring every second.

No. No. No.

A violent shudder tore through her body as she writhed against the restraints, twisting with everything she had, but the ropes held firm, biting into her skin.

"Please... don't," she tried to plead through the cloth gagging her mouth. The words came out broken and muffled, but her eyes screamed them clearly.

The man only smirked, unbothered and cruel.

"So obedient when that Nair fucks you in those photos," he said lazily, popping open another button, "yet such a handful with us."

Photos.

The word slammed into her mind with sickening force.

Her personal photos. The private moments she had shared with Krishav, moments never meant for anyone else. Horror and confusion collided, freezing her for a split second.

Then her mother's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unyielding.

If a man ever dares to touch you without your consent, you make him bleed.

Something inside her snapped.

With every ounce of strength left in her, she drove her knee upward blindly. A strangled curse erupted as she struck true, sending the man stumbling back in agony.

But there was no time for relief.

Hands were already on her.

A merciless grip closed around her throat, squeezing just enough to steal her breath and remind her how powerless she was.

"Feisty," the leader murmured, his face inches from hers. Too close. Far too close.

Her lungs burned as she thrashed instinctively, but the ropes only cut deeper, leaving her trapped and exposed.

"Let's fix that attitude," he said calmly.

The cold edge of a knife traced down her collarbone.

Tears blurred her vision as her heart pounded violently, but she refused to break. Not yet.

She clenched her fists until her nails drew blood and prayed silently.

Krishav... I wish you were here.

Then the unthinkable happened.

With brutal efficiency, the last barrier of her dignity was torn away, leaving her exposed beneath their predatory gazes. The room felt colder, but the hunger in their eyes burned into her skin like a brand.

In that moment, her mind betrayed her, dragging her backward into memories she had once cherished.

She had always questioned why women were made to bare themselves, why love was measured through physical surrender instead of emotional connection, why worth seemed tied to how much one was willing to give.

And then she had met Krishav Nair.

A man of principles. Of patience. Of unwavering respect.

Their first meeting had been ridiculous, an argument over an ice cream tub in a store. She had been stubborn. So had he. But even then, she had noticed the difference.

He fought her, but he never disrespected her.

Each meeting after that had drawn her closer, to the way he listened, the way he cared, the way he never made her feel like she owed him anything for his love.

When they began dating, he could have taken what society told him was his right.

But he never did.

He waited.

Waited until she was comfortable. Until she was ready.

And when they finally made love, she had known only safety, devotion, and reverence. Krishav had touched her as if she were something sacred, as if carelessness could shatter her.

That night, wrapped in his warmth, she had promised herself something she never imagined would be tested.

If there was ever a man she could bare herself to without fear, it was Krishav Nair.

But tonight, her dignity had been stolen.

Hands roamed her body, foreign and violent, stripping her of choice, of control, of self. They were not Krishav's hands.

They belonged to monsters who saw not a woman, not a human being, but prey.

She wanted to scream, to fight, to claw her way free.

But the ropes only tightened.

And for the first time in her life, she felt truly helpless.

The violation was overwhelming, invasive in every sense of the word, tearing through her physically and emotionally until nothing felt intact. Her cries went unanswered, swallowed by darkness and noise meant to ensure no one heard her.

Then, suddenly, the room changed.

The door unlocked with a sharp click, and heavy footsteps entered. The men surrounding her moved aside instinctively, parting as though something far worse had arrived.

He stood there, cloaked in darkness, his face hidden behind a skull mask that made him look like death given form.

For a brief, fragile moment, she thought it was over.

"Please," she whispered weakly when her gag was removed. "Just let me go. I haven't done anything. I-I'm carrying a-"

She was silenced by his slow step forward.

"Baby," he said softly.

Her breath hitched.

"Yes," he continued calmly. "That's exactly what I'm here for."

Venom coated his next words as he claimed ownership, as if her body and soul belonged to him alone.

Music exploded through the room, deafening and deliberate, while a cold metal rod was placed into his waiting hand.

Her stomach twisted as dread flooded every nerve.

He crouched before her, examining the damage with twisted satisfaction. When he touched her, she flinched violently, her revulsion overwhelming.

Then he raised the rod.

The impact of the rod on her belly came with blinding pain.

Her scream tore from her throat, raw and desperate, but it was swallowed by the music. No one heard her. No one came.

Darkness crept in as agony consumed her, and in that moment, she felt it.

She lost everything.

She lost her baby.
She lost Krishav.
And worst of all, she lost herself.

India, Bangalore

Krishav sat in his office with a whiskey glass trembling faintly in his hand, staring at the golden liquid as though it might offer answers it never would. The glass barely moved, yet inside him, everything was collapsing, unravelling in slow, merciless waves. It had been months. Months since she had vanished without warning, months since he had woken up to the cold emptiness of his bed, the warmth of her presence ripped away as if it had never existed at all. Months of searching, calling, tracking shadows that led nowhere, until exhaustion had settled into his bones like a permanent ache.

The air felt suffocating, thick with questions that had no answers. His mind replayed the same thought endlessly, clinging to it like a lifeline even as reality tried to tear it away. She would not leave him. Not like this. Not without a word. He had repeated it to himself so often that it had begun to feel like prayer rather than certainty.

The glass hit the desk with a sharp crack as he slammed it down. "Damn it, Shravanya!" he roared, his voice hoarse and raw, scraped straight from his chest. His hands threaded violently through his hair, fingers curling against his scalp as if he could physically rip the agony out of himself. The detective he had hired had found nothing. Every lead had dissolved into darkness, every trail ending in the same dead silence. It was as though she had been erased from the world.

"Sir..." Aishni's hesitant voice came from the doorway. "You need to rest. You haven't slept in days."

Krishav let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow even to his own ears. Rest felt like a cruel joke. How was he supposed to sleep when the woman he loved was missing, when every breath felt like a blade twisting deeper into his ribs? He picked up his phone once more and dialled her number, his thumb moving on instinct rather than hope. The automated voice cut through him mercilessly, 'The number you are trying to reach is currently switched off.' Rage surged through him as he flung the phone against the wall, watching it shatter. "She's out there," he said fiercely, turning to Aishni. "I know it. And I will find her... even if it kills me."

The desperation in his voice was unsettling, even to himself. He was no longer just searching for her; he was coming apart at the seams, losing himself in the void her absence had carved into his life.

Unable to bear the weight of the room any longer, Krishav stormed out of his office, his pulse pounding violently against his skull. He needed air, needed distance from his own thoughts before they swallowed him whole. His steps were hurried, almost frantic, as he pushed past his employees without acknowledging them. They were used to his temper, but today there was something different in his eyes, something dangerous, something broken.

He reached the lobby and was about to step outside when his body froze mid-stride.

Time seemed to collapse in on itself.

His chest constricted so sharply that he swayed, his throat drying instantly as his fingers twitched uselessly at his sides. Because standing at the entrance, framed by the glass doors, was the one person he had been searching for every waking moment.

Shravanya.

For a split second, he thought grief had finally driven him mad, that his mind had conjured her out of desperation. His heart pounded painfully as he blinked, half-expecting her to vanish. She didn't.

She was real.

But she wasn't the same.

Her face was pale, her body thinner than he remembered, wrapped in a long-sleeved dress that covered her completely. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she trembled faintly, as though she were bracing herself for something unseen. The sight sent a shock through him, relief and devastation colliding violently in his chest.

He crossed the distance between them in three long strides, his hands gripping her arms as if to anchor her in place. "Shravanya...?" His voice barely carried, fragile and disbelieving.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Her gaze flickered up to his face, and for a fleeting moment he saw something there that looked like fear, pain, hesitation, before she looked away. His stomach twisted violently.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation.

She flinched.

That single reaction told him everything. Something terrible had happened to her, something that had carved itself deep into her silence. The relief he had felt moments ago dissolved into a cold, simmering rage, directed at whoever had dared to touch her life.

His hands cupped her face gently, trembling as his thumbs brushed over her cold skin. "You're here," he whispered, as if saying it aloud might make it real, permanent. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, breathing her in like a man who had nearly drowned.

She didn't hug him back.

Krishav went still.

Slowly, he pulled away, searching her face. "Shravi?"

Her expression was empty. Then her lips curved into a hollow smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic, Krishav."

His heart stuttered painfully.

"I didn't disappear," she continued lightly. "I left. On my own terms."

The words knocked the air from his lungs. He took a step back, shaking his head. "No," he whispered. "You wouldn't."

"I did," she said coolly. "And I'm only here to make that clear."

"Shravi," he breathed, his voice trembling. "What are you saying?"

She sighed, folding her arms. "I was never in love with you. You were a means to an end."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath him. Each word cut deeper than the last, slicing through him until he could barely stand. "You don't mean that," he said weakly.

Her gaze hardened. "I aborted the child."

Silence engulfed the space between them.

Krishav's knees hit the marble floor as the world shattered around him. "You're lying," he whispered hoarsely, his chest heaving.

"Believe what you want."

"Tell me you're lying," he begged, his voice breaking completely. "Tell me something happened. Tell me you were forced."

"The baby was an inconvenience," she said flatly.

Something inside him broke beyond repair. The woman he had searched for, bled for, mourned for, now stood before him as if none of it had ever mattered. She wasn't touching him, wasn't comforting him, wasn't even looking at him.

Her voice echoed relentlessly in his mind, Come fast, Krishav. I miss you. The house feels empty without you.

That was his Shravanya.

Not this stranger wearing her face.

And yet, no matter how fiercely his heart rejected it, the truth remained.

She was standing right there.

And she had destroyed him.