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The streets are quiet, but my mind is anything but. Each step I take feels heavier than the last, my heavy bag behind me like a stubborn reminder of my own stupidity.

I shouldn't have come here.Alone

Pamela's voice breaks through my thoughts, frantic and breathless. "Divya, wait! Where are you even going?!"

I don't slow down. I can't. If I stop now, if I turn back, I might not be able to hold everything in.

"I'll find a hotel," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Or a hostel."

She groans in frustration. "Are you serious? It's late! You don't even know this area well!"

She's right. But what choice do I have?

I finally stop, turning to face her. The streetlights cast long shadows across her worried face.

"Pam, I trusted your uncle. You said everything was sorted, that the place was ready. I paid the deposit. And now..." I swallow hard, pushing back the lump in my throat.

"Now I have nowhere to stay."

Pamela looks guilty, but she doesn't have an answer.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Look, I... I didn't think he'd actually sell the house. He never told me!"

A hollow laugh escapes me. "Did you hear what he said inside? About my father? About me?"

Her lips press into a thin line. She doesn't meet my eyes.

Because she knows.

She knows the truth behind it.

"Divya..." Her voice is softer now. "I'll talk to him again. Maybe he can return the money, and we can figure something out-"

"It's not about the money, Pam!" My voice cracks, the emotions bubbling too close to the surface. "It's about respect. About not being treated like an afterthought. Like I don't belong anywhere."

Silence stretches between us.

She knows what I mean.

I came here to escape-to build something for myself, away from the weight of expectations, away from the life I left behind.

And now, barely a day in, I'm already being reminded that I don't fit. That I don't have a place here, either.

Pamela shifts on her feet, uncertain. "At least stay at my place tonight. You can't just wander around looking for rooms at this hour."

I want to say no. I want to prove that I can handle this alone. But the truth is, I don't have many options.

"Just one night," I finally say. "Tomorrow, I'll figure something out."

Then Suddenly..

A raspy voice cuts through the night.
"What are you two whispering about, huh?"

Pam stiffens beside me. I turn, my fists clenching.

Her uncle.

The streetlight casts deep shadows over his wrinkled face, making him look even more vile. I want to punch that smug expression off him, make those wrinkles deepen with pain.

I step forward, my voice cold. "Give me my money back. 10,000 rupees. UPI, cash-whatever works for you."

His smirk widens, mocking. "Money? What money? You got a receipt?"

My blood turns to fire. "What the hell do you mean?!" I snap.

Pam gasps beside me. "Uncle!"

"Shut up!" His voice booms, cutting through the night air like a whip. He turns to Pam, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "If you want a roof over your head, you come back now. Otherwise, I'll throw you out too."

Pam shakes her head, defiant. "You can't do this! She has nowhere to go-"

He lunges, grabbing her face with one rough hand, squeezing hard. Pam flinches but doesn't back down, her fingers clawing at his wrist.

"You little bitch," he spits. "Should've died like your mother. Just as useless. Your own father threw you both out, and your mother? A damn leech."

Pam's breath shudders, but her eyes burn with rage.

"Let. Go." Her voice shakes, but her nails dig into his skin.

I move before I can think, grabbing his arm and yanking it away from her. "Touch her again, and I swear-"

He jerks back, scowling. "Then let her choose. Come back home, or stay out here like trash with you."

Uncle grits his teeth, his face twisting in frustration before he turns sharply and storms off.

Pamela stands still, staring at the ground, her shoulders slumped.

"Pamela... are you okay, dear?" I bend down slightly, trying to catch her eyes.

She looks up, and my heart clenches. Her eyes are glassy, brimming with unshed tears, like a storm just waiting to break.

Her lips tremble before she forces out a small, shaky breath.

"Pamela, go home. I'll manage something. I don't want to be a burden to you," I say gently.

"But how can I just leave you alone?" she whispers.

I shake my head, offering a weak smile. "Don't worry, I've found a hotel. I'll take a cab and go there. You should go home."

She hesitates, clearly torn, but after a moment, she nods. "Okay... just text me when you reach."

I nod back, then turn and start walking away. It's tough for her too-I don't want to trouble her any more than I already have.

But... the truth is, no hotel is accepting check-ins at this hour.

I glance at my wristwatch. 9 PM already.

Maybe I should go back to the airport? Or the train station?

I pull out my phone, fingers moving quickly as I search for any open hotels nearby.

Oh! Bingo!

There's one-Roshni Fly Hotel. Not too far.

But... ugh, it's a 15-minute walk, and my bag feels like I'm carrying a sack of bricks.

Screw this. Let's book a cab.

Just as I'm about to, an auto-rickshaw passes by and screeches to a stop right in front of me.

The driver peers out, eyes scanning me with curiosity.

"Madam ji, are you new here? Where do you want to go?" His voice is deep, but not unkind.

I clear my throat. "Um... there's a hotel nearby. Roshni Fly Hotel. Can you take me there?"

My Hindi isn't as smooth as the locals', so I speak in a mix of broken Hindi and English.

The driver tilts his head, thinking for a second, then nods. "Okay, ji."

He flicks on the meter.

I let out a relieved sigh, hoist my heavy bag into the auto, and climb into the back seat.

Finally. A bit of luck.

But just as the driver starts the engine and drive a little bit -

"Ayy! Ayyy! Wait, wait!"

Two men suddenly stumble right in front of the auto, nearly falling flat on their faces.

The driver slams the brakes, and I lurch forward, gripping the sides for balance.

My eyes widen.

What now?!

The driver yells, "Ayy! Can't you both walk properly? Are you guys dumb fucks?" His frustration is clear, but the two men barely react.

One of them is about to say something, but then-he sees me.

His bleary eyes rake over me from head to toe, lingering just a second too long. A disgusting smirk creeps onto his lips, and the stench of alcohol radiating from him is so strong it feels like he bathed in it.

The other man staggers to the side of the auto, looking like he's about to slide in beside me.

Hell no.

Before he can, I grab my heavy bag, shove it onto my shoulder, and step down from the auto.

I don't care where I'm going-I just start walking.

Behind me, the driver yells, "Madam ji! Where are you going? You don't want to go?"

I don't answer. I don't even look back. My feet move faster, my heart pounding a little harder than I'd like to admit.

Then-

A rough, raspy grip clamps onto my bag.

I freeze.

Turning sharply, I see one of the drunken men clutching my bag with a sleazy grin.

"Madam ji, your bag looks heavy. Give it to me. I'll help you," he says, voice thick with liquor and bad intentions.

My stomach twists in revulsion.

"Hey! Don't try any nonsense!" I snap, yanking my bag back, but my grip slips.

It's too heavy-when they pull, it throws me off balance.

I stumble.

Then-the second man grabs my left wrist.

A sickening jolt of fear and fury shoots through me.

Oh, you messed with the wrong girl.

Without hesitation, I rip my right hand free and reach for my pocket-my fingers close around the electric taser gun.

Before the drunk idiot even realizes what's happening-

I pull the trigger.

A sharp crackle fills the air-

ZAP!

The metal prongs hit him right in the balls.

His eyes widen in pure agony before he lets out a high-pitched scream and collapses to the ground, clutching himself like his life depends on it.

The other guy-who was still yanking my bag-FREEZES.

His face goes pale.

Then-without a word-he turns and SPRINTS down the street like his ass is on fire.

Yeah, you better run.

I think I should run too. I kick him once more in the same spot, making sure he stays down in pain, and then I take off running in the same direction I came from. Run for my life.

Then-suddenly-a blinding light flashes in front of me. A bike.

Ah...!

Fuck!

I stop, my breath ragged, my heart pounding. What a fucking experience.

And then I see him. The rider. The same man who made me doubt my own mind and memory. The one whose tattoo feels eerily familiar, like I've seen it before-but I just can't remember where.

📍DOMINOS

A few minutes ago, I was attacked by some drunk idiots, and now I'm sitting in a Domino's, having dinner with a professor.

What a mess of a start.

I take a sip of my Coke, my eyes drifting to the man in front of me. He's calm-too calm. His face gives nothing away, and that bothers me.

Why is he helping me? What does he want?

He looks... respectable. Well-dressed, well-spoken. But that doesn't mean anything. Even the worst men wear decent clothes.

Should I trust him?

My gut is split in two. One part screams that I'm being reckless-sitting here, eating, as if I didn't almost get dragged off the street an hour ago.

The other part reminds me I have no other choice. I don't know anyone here. I don't even know this city.

And as suspicious as he seems, he hasn't done anything wrong.

Yet.

He pushes the menu toward me, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table.

"Order what you want." His voice is casual but firm.

I pick up the menu, scanning the prices. Wow, things are way cheaper here than in London. I bite my lip, deciding quickly.

"Hmm... double cheese chicken pizza and a Coke should be fine," I mutter, closing the menu.

"Alright. Waiter!" He waves the waiter over with a quick motion.

"Two double cheese chicken pizzas and two cokes. Zero? Divya, Coke Zero?" He glances at me, waiting for confirmation.

"Ah... yeah, yeah, great." I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

A short silence settles between us after the waiter leaves. It's a little awkward. He clears his throat, leaning slightly forward.

"So... you're Divya." He pauses, watching me closely. "And why are you here? I heard you... escaped from London." His voice is softer now, curious but not prying.

My fingers tighten around my glass for a moment before I quickly relax. My lips part slightly in surprise.

"Umm...? Who told you that?" I ask hesitantly, shifting in my seat. My shoulders stiffen just a little.

He leans back, arms crossed ,"Mr. Shindey "

Of course. That old scumbag. I let out a small sigh .

He tilts his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Can I ask... I mean, only if you're comfortable telling me-why?"

I take a slow breath, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass. "In short... I want to study, and he wants me to take over his business. My studies, my knowledge-they'd be wasted in his world. Just for the sake of money and inheritance, I can't throw away my hard work." My voice is steady, but there's a hint of frustration beneath it.

He nods slowly. "Hmm... okay. So that's why you made this decision?"

"Yes," I confirm without hesitation.

He leans forward slightly, his eyes curious. "So, what do you want to do now?"

I straighten up, my shoulders relaxing a little. "I want to continue my studies. I want to do research, learn more, create something of my own. I don't want to be caged... I want to be a professor too, to pass on my knowledge to others." My voice is firmer now, a flicker of excitement lighting up my eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, "Ohh. That's a great plan. What's your subject?"

A small, proud smile tugs at my lips. "Physics," I say.

"You're a physics professor too, aren't you?" I ask, tilting my head slightly. "I just assumed since you guys were invited."

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "Ahh, correct. That's why we were all invited." His presence is steady, composed-more observer than talker.

I nod slowly, tapping my fingers against the table. "Makes sense."

There's a brief pause before he adds, "And here I thought you just had a wild guess."

I chuckle. "Well, I like to think I'm good at putting pieces together."

The pizza arrives, and the delicious smell fills the air. Without wasting a second, I grab a slice.

"I'm starving... way too much," I mumble, taking a big bite.

He gives a small nod, barely a smile, and picks up a slice. "Then let's eat."

There's something about him-something that makes him stand apart from the usual city crowd.

Maybe it's the way he carries himself, like he's seen too much, done too much, yet remains unaffected.

Or maybe it's the way his presence seems to command attention without demanding it.

I might sound too frank, but honestly, I don't trust him completely. I mean, can you blame me?

I'm in a totally unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, and after running into some creepy, drunk weirdos, he seems like the safest option so far.

At least he's a professor, which means-hopefully-he has some ethics. Right? Professors are supposed to be decent people. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.

But still... just for tonight. I just need a place to stay for one night. That's all.

Except-damn-I'm scared. Like, really scared. My heart won't stop pounding, and my brain is doing this annoying thing where it keeps imagining the worst. What if this is a mistake? What if I should've just slept at the station? What if-

Ugh. No. Stop. Breathe.

I bite my lip, forcing myself to focus on the pizza. It's warm, cheesy, and comforting, but all I can think about is my mom. Shit, I miss her so much.

If she were here, she'd probably scold me for getting into this mess and then immediately hug me like I was five again.

I sigh, staring at my half-eaten slice. "This is fine," I whisper to myself. "I'll be fine."

At least, I hope so.

I pause, pulling out my wallet. "Wait, I'll pay for my portion."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Ah, no, no. You're practically a student like Pamela. Let me handle it for today. Next time, it's on you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Next time?"

He raise eyebrow taking a sip of his Coke. "Well, if you're still around, why not?"

" Yeah Yeah .. "

So, dinner is done. Now comes the part where I have to go to his house.

I take a deep breath and walk toward the bike, my mind racing with second thoughts.

But what choice do I have? It's late, I have nowhere else to go, and after tonight's encounters, I'd rather take my chances with a reserved professor than with random creeps on the street.

I climb onto the bike carefully, making sure to keep a respectable distance. Instead of holding onto him, I grip the back of the seat tightly. No unnecessary contact.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks, his tone neutral, almost formal.

"Yes," I reply quickly.

There's a short pause, then he starts the engine, and we pull onto the road. The cool night air brushes against my face, but my mind is too restless to enjoy it.

Just for tonight, I remind myself. Just one night, and then I'll figure something out.

We reach in just a few minutes. He rides the bike smoothly through the main gate and parks it neatly in the lawn area.

As he unlocks the house, I stand behind him like an obedient student, unsure of what to do.

The moment he switches on the lights, I glance around. The house is bigger than I expected for a professor. My brain immediately jumps to conclusions-maybe his girlfriend lives here?

Oh, wait... this is India. Living together isn't exactly the norm. Then maybe he's married? If that's the case, his wife is definitely going to be furious about me staying here.

I shift nervously, scanning the house again. But it's too quiet. No signs of anyone else.

No soft footsteps, no lingering scent of perfume, no hurried voice asking who just came in.

Weird.

"Umm... do you live alone?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Yes... Divya," he says casually, fixing a pillow on the sofa. Then he looks back at me.

"Umm, yes... I live alone."

"What?!" My eyes go wide in shock.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Why are you screaming?"

I take a step back, waving my hands dramatically. "Wait, wait, wait! You mean... no family? No wife? No roommates? Nothing?!"

He sighs, rubbing his temple like he's already regretting letting me stay. "Yes, Divya. Just me. Alone. In this house.

I blink at him, my brain working overtime. Oh God. This is either a blessing or a terrible mistake. But he seems like a good guy still... a stranger's house? And no one else around?!

To be continued

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