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Aryan's pov

As I stepped outside, I collided with someone, the impact jolting me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see who it was, and my eyes met hers. She looked at me with genuine concern, and then she asked the one question no one had ever bothered to ask me before.

"Are you okay?"

For a moment, I froze, my chest tightening. No one had ever asked me that. not in this way, not with that kind of care. I think this is how "care" sounds. It took everything in me to hold myself together. I wasn't used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like her.

The pain should be unbearable after that fight, but the moment I saw her, everything else faded away.

She.

The beautiful she.

Inaya.

She was talking to me but I wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying. I just kept looking at her, completely lost in her presence. After a while, she huffed and turned around to leave.

The only words I caught were, "I'll be back."

She will be back, right?

I will see her again, right?

She won't leave me, right?

I let out a shaky breath and looked down at my arm. Blood was dripping down, and small pieces of glass were still stuck in my skin. I hadn't even realized how bad my injury was.

I sighed and sat against the wall, waiting. My mind should be focused on the pain, but all I could think about was her.

And then she came back.

But she wasn't alone.

A man was walking beside her, and they were talking about my injury.

A doctor, maybe?

As they got closer, she stopped a little distance away from me. Her eyes held concern, but she kept that space between us. Why?

She looked at me and said, "He is our team doctor. He will treat you. You don't need to worry."

I nodded without saying a word.

But why was she standing so far? Why couldn't she sit beside me and talk?

I clenched my fists.

Grab her and make her sit on your lap, a voice inside my head whispered.

I quickly shook my head, pushing away the thought.

The doctor sat down and started treating my wound, but my eyes were still on her.

She was right there, yet it felt like she was so far away.

The doctor continued treating my wound, but my eyes stayed on her.

Inaya stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching everything in silence. She wasn't looking at me her focus was on the doctor's hands as he worked on my injury.

She wasn't speaking.

Neither was I.

The silence between us felt heavier than the pain in my arm.

I wanted her to sit closer. To look at me. To say something. Anything.

But she didn't.

She just stood there. Distant. Cold.

I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the way my chest tightened at the space between us.

The doctor wrapped the bandage around my arm, his movements careful. "Done," he said, packing up his kit. "Take care of it, and don't strain yourself too much."

I gave a slight nod, still not looking away from her.

She didn't move.

She didn't say anything.

Then, without a word, she turned around to walk away.

"Inaya," I called her name, and for the first time, my own words felt like a melody to me.

She stopped mid-step and turned slightly, her eyes meeting mine as she hummed.

A small smile tugged at my lips. She responded. That was a start.

"You must be surprised that I called you by your name," I said, watching her carefully.

Her expression remained neutral. "Many people know my name. There's no reason to be surprised," she replied simply.

Shit. Right. She's a celebrity. People probably call her by her name all the time.

She was about to walk away again, and something inside me told me I couldn't let that happen.

"Actually, I'm Aryan. Aryan Raizada," I said quickly, stepping forward and extending my hand for a handshake.

She glanced at my hand, her expression unreadable. For a brief second, I thought she would take it, but instead, she just nodded and gave me a small smile but distant.

And then she turned again.

Something about the way she kept creating this space between us unsettled me. The distance. The avoidance. No handshake. Why?

She wasn't like this with everyone, was she? Or was it just with me?

Before she could take another step, I spoke again.

"You played really well in today's match," I said, hoping to at least keep her talking. "Every goal you hit was fantastic."

She stopped raising an eyebrow.

"There are no goals in cricket," she corrected. "They call it shots."

Damn it.

Don't open your mouth and humiliate yourself more, my mind scolded.

She didn't say anything else. Instead, she just turned and started walking away again.

This time, I didn't try to stop her.

I just... followed.

Like a lost puppy.

I followed her, my steps matching hers.

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her expression questioning. But before she could ask anything, I spoke first.

"Will you please help me walk up to my room?" I said, keeping my voice calm. "Actually, my hand is paining."

She didn't hesitate. She simply nodded.

And just like that, we were walking together.

I kept stealing glances at her every now and then, hoping she'd look at me at least once. But she never did. Not even for a second.

But it didn't matter.

Because this... this wasn't the real Aryan Raizada.

The Aryan Raizada who kills people for fun. The Aryan Raizada who loves blood more than anything. The Aryan Raizada who enjoys blood bath, watching the blood swirl around him like art.

But right now?

I was doing something I never thought I'd do.

Following someone.

And not just anyone.

A girl ten years younger than me.

We walked through the hotel hallway in silence until she suddenly stopped.

Her entire body went rigid.

I frowned and looked ahead, following her gaze.

A man was walking toward us.

Nothing about him seemed unusual at first. But then I looked at her again.

She lowered her head. Her shoulders tensed.

And then I saw it.

She was shaking.

Her hands trembled at her sides, and I could see the sweat on her palms.

Why?

What happened to her?

My eyes snapped back to the man just as he passed us.

He didn't say a word. But he smirked at her.

A mocking, disgusting smirk.

And then he walked away.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists.

That smile... it made my skin crawl. It made my blood boil.

I turned to Inaya.

She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.

"Inaya," I called her name, my voice softer than I intended.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, filled with something I couldn't quite place.

Fear?

Pain?

Or something else entirely?

She looked at me, her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Her breathing was still uneven, her hands trembling by her sides.

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "Who was that?"

She blinked rapidly and shook her head. "No one."

No one?

Her reaction said otherwise.

I could still see the way she clutched the fabric of her sleeves, as if holding onto something invisible something that made her weak.

"Inaya," I said again, softer this time. "You're shaking."

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand still. "It's nothing."

Liar.

I could hear it in her voice, see it in her body language.

That wasn't the reaction of someone who was just startled. That was fear.

Deep. Buried. Controlled. But still very much there.

I glanced in the direction the man had gone, my fists clenching. I didn't like the way he looked at her. I didn't like how she feared in his presence.

I didn't like that she was trying to hide it from me.

"Let's go," she muttered, turning away before I could say anything else.

She started walking, and I followed. Again.

Not just because I said I needed her help to get to my room.

But because I wasn't letting this go.

We walked together down the hallway. After a short distance, she stopped in front of a door.

"This is my room," she said. "I guess I should go."

She opened the door to enter.

"Inaya," I called out.

She turned to look at me.

"Thank you," I said.

She nodded and gave a small smile.

"Guess what?" I said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm staying in the room next to yours."

I felt oddly happy about this.

"How about we have coffee together?" I asked.

She hesitated. "Actually, I'm tired from the match today," she replied, then went inside her room.

Did she just close the door on me? On Aryan Raizada?

I stood there for a moment, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement.

Never mind.

I entered my room and threw myself onto the bed, laughing softly. I didn't even know why I was so happy, but I was.

That's when a sharp pain shot through my arm, reminding me of my injury.

I sat up quickly and grabbed my phone, dialing my PA.

As soon as he answered, I spoke. "Check the CCTV footage of the floor I'm staying on, from fifteen minutes ago. There was a man walking in the same direction as me. Find out who he is and get me all the details."

Without waiting for a response, I hung up.

I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts drifting back to Inaya. Her expressions, her reactions, the way she shivered when that man walked past us. Something about it bothered me.

Before I could think more, my phone rang again.

Vyom Raizada.

My brother. No, my stepbrother.

I picked up the call and sighed. "Call me again, and I'll kill you" I said, then ended the call.

I always hated my family.

My father married another woman. Vyom was the result of that marriage.

And even though I resented everything about my family, I had a soft corner for Vyom. Not that I liked him, I hated him too.

But then, memories of my childhood came rushing back.

I was seven when my mother threw boiling water on me, leaving my skin burned. I cried and ran to my father, hoping he would help. Instead, he hit me right on the burns. I was sobbing when my stepmother joined in. She poured more hot water over my wounds.

The pain was unbearable.

That night, Vyom sneaked into my room. He cleaned my burns, applied medicine, and stayed with me.

The next day, my family found out. Instead of punishing Vyom, they punished me. They made me starve the whole day.

Vyom always tried to help me.

But every time he did, my family made sure I suffered for it.

That's why I hate him.

Thinking about all this, I didn't realize when I fell asleep. After a few hours, my phone rang, waking me up. It was my PA.

I answered, and he told me about the man I saw in the hallway the one who made Inaya uneasy.

"He's a cricket coach," my PA said. "He's trained many star players and was Inaya's coach during her childhood."

What shocked me was when my PA added, "There are reports that he used to abuse players."

I listened silently, processing the information, and then ended the call.

He used to abuse players? What kind of coach is that?

A troubling thought crossed my mind.

Did he ever abuse Inaya?

Is that why she reacted the way she did?

If he laid a finger on her...

That coach's story is going to end soon.

I stepped out of my room into the hotel hallway and stopped in front of Inaya's door. She must be sleeping, I thought. As I walked, I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice when I twisted my foot and fell against her door with a loud thud.

Quickly, I got up, hoping I hadn't disturbed her. I was about to leave when the door opened.

Inaya stood there, looking at me with a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," I replied, trying to sound casual.

But something caught my attention her eyes were red, and her hands are still trembling.

I don't know what's wrong with me. One second I was talking to her like everything was fine, and the next second I said, "Actually, I should go. I put the stove on."

The moment I said it, I realized how stupid it sounded. But it was already out there. She gave me this weird look, clearly confused.

"They don't have stoves in hotels," she said, looking at me like I'd lost it.

Yeah... she's right. They don't. So why did I even say that?

Before I could say anything else, she just walked over and closed the door.

I quickly went back to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it, my heart beating fast for no reason. I put my hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror, still feeling weird.

"Why am I acting like this?" I mumbled to myself.

I had no answers.

To be continued

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