CHAPTER 58
ARYAN
Something’s wrong. The thought doesn’t arrive slowly. It doesn’t build or give me time to question it. It lands—sharp, immediate—the second the second honk fades into silence and nothing follows.
This is our thing.
Two honks. She comes down. Usually with an eye roll. Sometimes with a comment about how I lack patience. Always with that small, reluctant smile she pretends isn’t there.
It’s stupid. Insignificant to anyone else. But it’s ours. And she didn’t come. I wait a second longer than I should.
My fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel. Maybe she’s tying her hair. Maybe she’s looking for something.
No.
Something twists low in my gut, cold and certain.
I don’t wait for a third honk. I’m already out of the car before I realize I’ve opened the door, my steps quick, sharp against the pavement as I head toward her building.
Two steps at a time. I don’t even remember climbing them.
Just the sound of my own breath, louder than it should be.
The way my heart has started beating too fast. Too hard. “Ishika!” I call out as I reach her floor, the name tearing out of me before I can control it. Her door is open. Wide open. Everything inside me drops.
No.
No, no, no—
I push it further and step in, my eyes scanning the space too quickly, trying to make sense of something that already feels wrong. “Ishika!”
Only silence answers me. The kind that shouldn’t exist here. The kind that presses in from all sides. My chest tightens. I move through the apartment fast, checking rooms without really seeing them. Bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. She’s not here. “Shit.”
My voice comes out rough. I stop in the middle of the living room, forcing myself to slow down.
To look properly. To think. Her bag is there.
Her shoes. Everything exactly where it should be if she was…
here. So she didn’t go somewhere on her own.
My gaze catches on something on the dining table.
Her phone. My stomach drops further, something heavy settling in my chest.
She wouldn’t leave without it. She never leaves without it.
Not unless—No. I force the thought down before it can take shape. Don’t jump.
Think.
Think.
Her phone. Her things. Door open.
No signs of a struggle.
No broken furniture.
No noise.
Which means—My jaw tightens.
Someone took her. The realization doesn’t explode. I close my eyes for a second. My hand is already reaching for my own phone, fingers moving faster than my thoughts as I unlock it, open the app.
There.
A small blinking dot.
Moving.
Relief and fear hit at the same time, crashing into each other in my chest so hard I have to brace myself against the table.
“Don’t ever take it off, Sunshine.” My voice echoes in my head, the memory sharp.
The ring. It wasn’t just a gift.
It was—Protection. A precaution I hoped I’d never need.
I was going to tell her. Once I had answers.
Once I knew who was behind everything—the break-in she brushed off, the car that failed too conveniently, the feeling that something wasn’t right.
I was going to explain to her that why I thought she needed a tracking device.
Make her understand without scaring her. But they got to her first.
And I—My hand curls into a fist so tight it hurts. I left her alone. I knew something was wrong. I felt it.
And I still—“Fuck.” Guilt claws its way up my throat, heavy and suffocating. This is my fault. Every part of this. I should have stayed. Should have insisted. Should have—I drag in a breath. Then another. Forcing my lungs to work. Forcing my brain to catch up. This is not the time to fall apart.
She needs me. Right now. Not five minutes from now. Not after I’ve finished blaming myself. Now.
I look back at the screen. The dot is moving. Fast. Heading away from the city.
My heart kicks harder. They’re not wasting time. Neither am I. I turn on my heel and move, not bothering to close the door behind me as I rush out, my steps faster now, more focused.
Every second matters.
My phone is already in my hand again as I head down the stairs, pulling up my messages, switching to voice notes because typing would take too long.
“Rudra, Siddhant—listen carefully,” I say, my voice steady even though my pulse is out of control. “Ishika’s been taken. I’m tracking her location right now. Sending it.”
I pause just long enough to share the live location. “They’re heading out toward the outskirts. I’m on my way. Don’t wait—move.”
I don’t give them time to respond. Don’t wait for questions.
They’ll understand. They always do. I reach my car, barely registering the way my hands shake slightly as I unlock it, get in, start the engine.
The moment the car roars to life, something inside me sharpens.
I pull out fast, tires screeching slightly against the road as I follow the direction on the screen, eyes flickering between the road and the small blinking dot.
Still moving.
Stay with me, Sunshine.
Just a little longer. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. A memory hits me without warning.
Rudra. The way he had been when Shivani Bhabhi was taken.
I felt he was being so reckless. Ready to walk into anything without a second thought. I remember trying to reason with him. Trying to get him to slow down. To think. “You’re not helping her if you get yourself killed,” I had said.
He hadn’t even heard me properly. He just ended the call and walked in anyways. I didn’t understand it then. Not fully. Not like this.
Now—Now I get it. Completely. There’s a different kind of clarity that comes with this kind of fear.
It strips everything down. Leaves nothing but instinct.
I don’t know what I’m walking into. I don’t know how many people are involved.
I don’t know what they want from her. But I know this—It doesn’t matter.
If I have to walk through hell to get her back—I will.
Without hesitation. Without question. My foot presses harder on the accelerator.
The city lights start thinning out, buildings giving way to darker stretches of road, emptier spaces.
The engine roars in response. And I drive. Straight into whatever is waiting for me. Because there is no version of this where I turn back.