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The next morning, Rukmini was back at her desk—hair tied up in a hasty bun, sleeves rolled up, laptop open, and a steaming mug of black coffee by her side. Her eyes were sharp again, no trace of last night's moonlit musings. Whatever that moment was—it had passed. Or so she told herself.

Now, it was back to strategy.
Now, it was war.

She had barely slept, but adrenaline was a better drug than rest anyway.

With Arjun finally agreeing to work alongside them, the entire team had gained an edge they didn't have before. The most precise mind, the best tactician—Arjun didn't just fight; he dissected. And Rukmini, seated quietly in the corner of the conference room, had already begun building the map.

Jarasand had been expanding aggressively—acquiring, demolishing, manipulating public perception with polished media spins and behind-the-scenes threats. The way he operated wasn't just business. It was systemic. Surgical. The man was five moves ahead of everyone else.

Except maybe now... he wouldn't be.

Rukmini's screen was filled with folders, news clippings, court files, articles in both English and regional languages. Her fingers flew over the keys as she toggled between open tabs. The deeper she dug, the more it became obvious—Jarasand's entire empire had weak spots.

But none of them were visible.

Until she stumbled upon something—a small name in an old, seemingly unimportant news report tucked away in the archives of a forgotten blog. It was about a protest. A small grassroots movement in a now-bulldozed neighbourhood—one that Jarasand had cleared in order to build a flashy luxury complex.

Rukmini almost skipped it.
Until a name caught her eye.
"Draupadi" 

Her brows furrowed. She knew that name.

She quickly opened a side file—the one Krishna had shared with her on key figures who were once active against Jarasand. And there it was again. Not in bold, not highlighted—but listed. She had been there at the beginning.

Not just present. Involved.
Strategically silenced.

Her fingers froze for a moment. "So that's why she disappeared from the scene..."

Draupadi wasn't just some protestor. She had a background in law, public policy, and digital security. The perfect storm. Rukmini read more. Every step Draupadi had taken had been deliberate—she had been raising awareness about Jarasand's illegal land acquisitions before anyone had even realised what was happening. She'd filed petitions. Raised media storms. And then, suddenly... gone.

Swept away, just like the buildings she tried to protect.

Except—she wasn't gone.
Just hidden.

And only someone like Rukmini, with time, resources, and obsessive persistence, would have noticed the pattern that remained. A breadcrumb trail of anonymous articles, under pseudonyms, all with the same tone, same bite. Draupadi's voice still echoed in the system. She hadn't given up.

She had gone underground.

A slow, proud smile began to stretch across Rukmini's face.

"Krishna..." she whispered aloud, even though he wasn't there. "I think I found our checkmate."

She opened a new folder, typing 'Project Draupadi' in bold. If they could find her—bring her into the team, even just as an informant—they would finally have someone who understood Jarasand's operations from the inside out.

This wasn't just strategy anymore. This was personal.

Draupadi had survived.
And now, she might be the key to ending this whole thing.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a message from Arjun—some curt update about intel he was reviewing. Rukmini barely glanced at it before typing back.

Rukmini: I found someone. Might be the core. You'll want to see this.

She sat back in her chair for the first time in hours, eyes glittering with purpose. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the side of her mug.

All this time, they had been trying to attack Jarasand's fortress.
But maybe the real answer wasn't to break down the walls.

Maybe it was to find the person who had already once been inside.
And who knew how to burn it all down from the foundation.

She stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the horizon. Somewhere out there, Draupadi was watching the world burn from the shadows. But soon—she wouldn't be alone.

This fight was about to change.

It had taken Rukmini an entire day of tracing half-erased footprints on the internet, piecing together clues that felt more like whispered rumours than facts. Panchali V. Sen was a ghost—vanished from the digital world like she had never existed. But Rukmini knew better. No one vanishes entirely. Not if they once stood up to someone like Jarasand.

Her search had narrowed down to a name—Draupadi.

A simple first name. But with it came weight. Fire. Resistance. And silence.

From old housing records, a barely maintained NGO roster, and a few obscure blog posts now long archived, Rukmini put together just enough. An address. A pattern. A possibility.

She stared at it for a long time before acting. Something in her gut said this wasn't just a lead—it was the lead. But that same something whispered: This won't be easy.

She shut her laptop, grabbed her phone and keys, and headed out.

But just as she reached the front hallway, a familiar voice called out from the stairwell.
"Whoa whoa whoa—where do you think you're going all serious and mysterious-looking?"

It was Subhadra. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall like she had been waiting there for this exact moment.

Rukmini stopped mid-step, already sensing the teasing in the air. "Nowhere dangerous," she replied evenly.

"That's the most suspicious thing anyone's ever said," Subhadra grinned, walking closer. "Come on, spill. Where are you off to? Are you secretly eloping with my brother?"

Rukmini rolled her eyes. "No. Just following something work-related."

Subhadra raised an eyebrow. "You always say that when you're trying to avoid my questions."

Rukmini hesitated for a heartbeat, then decided to tell her—but not everything. "I think I've found someone who might be important to the case. Someone from Jarasand's past. I'm going to talk to her."

Subhadra's expression softened ever so slightly. "Just be careful, okay? People who've been burned by Jarasand don't always welcome old wounds being reopened."

Rukmini nodded, touched by the unexpected seriousness in her voice. "I'll be back soon."

She left the house, booked a cab, and let the city blur past her window as her thoughts grew sharper. The further they drove, the more the buildings thinned, modernity giving way to older lanes and quieter streets.

They pulled up in front of a modest, weather-worn building, nestled between two larger, newer complexes like an old soul forgotten by time. The nameplate had been scratched off. No doorbell.

But she knew this was it.

Rukmini climbed the steps, her heartbeat rising with each one. Then, she knocked.

The door opened halfway.

A woman stood in the shadowed threshold, her sharp eyes scanning Rukmini from head to toe. She was striking—not in the way of glamour or vanity, but in the way storms are—contained, charged, and unsettlingly still.

Draupadi.

Rukmini spoke gently. "I know who you are. I'm not here to threaten you—I just want to talk."

The effect was immediate.

Draupadi's eyes flashed with alarm. Her body stiffened like a cat about to bolt.

"You need to leave," she said, firm and cold. "Now."

Rukmini held her ground. "I'm not from the press. I'm not with any organisation. I'm part of the movement fighting Jarasand now. We need you."

"You don't understand," Draupadi hissed. "You think you've found a key, but you're digging in a graveyard. Go back before you lose more than you came for."

But Rukmini didn't move. "I've come too far. We all have. If we're ever going to take him down, we need people like you—people who know what he's really done."

"I said leave!"

There was panic in Draupadi's voice now. Not anger. Fear. She tried to shut the door.

Rukmini caught it with her hand. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm not here to expose you. I'm here to understand you. And maybe... to remind you that you're not alone anymore."

The words hung in the air like quiet thunder.

Draupadi looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. As if searching for something—maybe sincerity, maybe desperation.

Rukmini didn't know what Draupadi saw in that moment. But she knew the door didn't close.

Not yet.

Inside Draupadi's modest, dimly lit home, the silence had become soft rather than sharp. The air still hung heavy with caution, but Rukmini could feel the resistance thinning like worn thread.

She sat at the edge of the low wooden chair, her voice steady, warm, and—for the first time in a while—unguarded.

"I understand why you shut yourself away," Rukmini said quietly. "But I didn't come here alone. I didn't come without a reason."

Draupadi tilted her head, one brow raised. Not in skepticism, but curiosity. A sliver of trust—thin, fleeting, but there.

"I came here because we're trying to finish what he started," Rukmini continued. "What Jarasand did to you, and to so many others... it won't go unanswered."

There was a pause. Then Rukmini added, almost without meaning to, her voice softening as her thoughts drifted:

"There's someone leading this with me. Krishna. I—he's... not like anyone I've met before."

A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "He's maddening. Completely unreadable sometimes. But when it matters... he's there. He listens. He sees you. Even the parts you try not to show."

Rukmini chuckled under her breath. "And he always has this way of telling you just enough, but never more. Infuriating, honestly. But still, somehow... I'd follow him into fire."

For the first time since Rukmini had walked in, Draupadi visibly relaxed. Her shoulders lost some of their stiffness, and her face softened, the perpetual tension in her brow fading just slightly.

"Sounds like someone you care about," Draupadi murmured.

Rukmini smiled faintly, trying not to let her heart show too much on her face. "He'd probably say he's just doing what's necessary. But yeah. I do care."

Draupadi folded her arms, leaning against the wall as if the weight on her chest had lessened. "You remind me of someone I used to be," she whispered. "Before—"

But then her eyes snapped to the side.

Her entire expression shifted. Panic. A flicker of horror.

She began muttering under her breath, almost like a chant, her voice trembling:
"No... no, no, not now, don't—please, don't—"

Rukmini blinked. "What is it?"

Draupadi didn't answer. Her eyes locked onto something behind Rukmini. Something—or someone—that made her face drain of colour.

"Don't do this," Draupadi suddenly begged, voice cracking. "Please—don't."

Rukmini stood up fast, turning around just in time to see a dark blur rushing toward her.

Before she could even cry out, something hard and heavy struck her on the side of her head.

The impact came like lightning—blinding, searing, and then oddly cold. A jagged pulse of pain echoed in her skull, and the world began to spin like it was trying to throw her off its axis.

She staggered backward, eyes fluttering, trying to focus—trying to see the face behind the attack. But everything was blurring, the outlines melting into shadows.

She heard Draupadi scream her name—but it felt distant now. Like it was underwater.

Rukmini's knees gave way beneath her.

Stay awake... stay awake...

She clawed at consciousness, blinking rapidly, trying to see, to fight—but her vision was fading fast. Colours mixed. Sounds blurred. Her body felt too heavy, her head too light.

The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her whole was Draupadi lunging forward, her mouth open in another desperate scream.

Then, blackness.

.

.

.

.

.

The world returned in pieces.

First, it was the faint hum of machines. Then the sterile scent of antiseptic. A soft beeping. Warmth pressed against her hand. And then—pain. A dull ache blooming at the side of her head, throbbing with her heartbeat.

Rukmini blinked slowly, her lashes heavy, the ceiling above her blinding white.

"Rukmini?"

The voice came softly. Familiar. Worried.

She turned her head ever so slightly and saw Subhadra, seated beside her, eyes wide and shimmering with barely contained emotion. Her grip on Rukmini's hand tightened.

"You're awake! Thank the heavens, Rukmini—what were you thinking?!"

"Don't yell at her just yet," came Ram's voice, calm but laced with concern as he stepped into view, folding his arms tightly across his chest. His brows were furrowed, and there was a roughness to his tone that hadn't been there before. "She just woke up."

Rukmini tried to push herself up, but pain flared and she hissed.

Subhadra gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey—hey, slow down. You're safe now. You're at the hospital. Just rest, okay?"

"What... happened?" Rukmini croaked, her voice scratchy.

Ram exhaled sharply and stepped closer to her bed. "You didn't come home. Subhadra got worried and called me. She said you mentioned something about going to meet someone—alone." He paused. "I traced your cab route. Found you unconscious, bleeding on the floor in a shady place."

"Ram..." she whispered, the memory of the blow and Draupadi's terrified eyes flashing in her mind. "I—"

"I thought we were too late," Ram interrupted, voice low. "You weren't moving. If we'd been even ten minutes later..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Rukmini's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," Subhadra cut in quickly. "You need to tell us what the hell is going on. What were you doing there by yourself?"

Before Rukmini could answer, the door creaked open and in walked a tall, confident woman in a white coat with her stethoscope slung casually around her neck. Her presence brought a strange calm into the room.

Revati.

Her sharp gaze softened when she looked at Rukmini, though her tone remained brisk and professional.

"You're lucky," she said, checking the monitor and making a few notes. "You took quite a hit. A little more force and it could've been worse." She looked over her glasses. "But you've got a hard head. You'll recover fully—just no stress, no strenuous activity, and please... no more heroics."

Ram cleared his throat. "Revati—this is Rukmini."

Revati looked back at her and smiled more warmly this time. "I figured. I've heard enough about you from these two in the last hour."

"Wait," Rukmini blinked at Ram, "She's—?"

"My girlfriend," Ram confirmed with a sheepish nod. "Surprise."

"I was going to do a dramatic reveal," Subhadra muttered. "Ruined."

Revati chuckled as she made a few final notes on the chart. "Alright, I'll leave you three to it. But, Rukmini," she said, looking directly at her, "Rest. No arguments."

"Yes, Doctor," Rukmini said softly, and Revati winked before stepping out.

Once the door shut behind her, Rukmini turned toward Subhadra and Ram, her voice quiet. "You... you didn't tell Krishna, right?"

Subhadra gave her a look that could only be described as uh-oh.

Rukmini's heart skipped. "No. Please. Don't tell him. Not yet."

Ram exhaled. "Too late."

"He already knows," Subhadra said, biting her lip. "By the time we got you here, we had to tell him. He's already on his way."

Rukmini's heart plummeted. "He's what?"

Subhadra gave her a dry look. "You think we can keep something like this from Krishna? He was already suspicious when you didn't reply to his messages. When he hears you were attacked—Rukmini, brace yourself."

Rukmini leaned back against the pillow with a groan, covering her face with her hand. "Great. Perfect."

Subhadra smirked. "You know he's going to storm in here like a hurricane."

Ram just nodded. "And he's bringing hell with him."

Rukmini groaned again, softly this time. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was worried. But another part of her... was oddly comforted.

He was coming.

And this time, it was because of her.

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