The city didn't sleep after the gala.

Neither did Riaz.

He watched the headlines swirl across digital screens—praise, curiosity, jealousy. And somewhere in the storm, a quiet alert pinged on his secure line.

Name: Kunal Kapoor. Location Pinged: Mumbai. Status: Watching.

Riaz's jaw tensed.

Kunal Kapoor wasn't just anyone. He was the ghost of a past Aashika never spoke of—the overly eager college friend with too many smiles and far too much interest. Riaz never liked him. Didn't trust the way Kunal hovered.

Back then, Aashika had brushed it off. "He's harmless, Riaz. Just a little dramatic."

Riaz had stared through him like glass.

And now, the ghost was back.

Aashika twirled in the penthouse dressing room, wrapped in a deep green satin robe, one of the many things Riaz had sent over. She held a wine glass between her fingers and hummed under her breath.

He walked in from the balcony, hair tousled, white shirt unbuttoned halfway.

"You look like sin wrapped in silk," he murmured.

She smirked. "And you look like you haven't slept in days."

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Can't sleep when shadows start to move."

She frowned. "What shadows?"

He hesitated.

Then: "Kunal Kapoor is back. He's been watching."

She stilled.

"No. That's not possible. He moved to Canada—"

"And now he's here. Eyes on you."

The wine glass trembled in her hand.

He took it, placed it down, and turned her toward him.

"Aashi, I need you to trust me now more than ever. If he even breathes in your direction, I'll handle it. But I need you to stay alert. No more walking alone. No more parties without me."

"You're scaring me."

He cupped her face. "Good. Fear keeps you safe. And keeping you safe keeps me sane."

That night, Riaz summoned his most trusted men. Seated in the dark conference room of a private warehouse, he laid out the new security protocol.

"Every movement she makes, I want eyes on her. Discreet but firm. Anyone unfamiliar who comes within ten feet of her—ID them, photograph them, trace them. I want Kapoor's life dissected."

"And if he approaches?" one man asked.

Riaz's voice dropped.

"If he so much as touches her shadow... we bring hell."

Back at the penthouse, Aashika couldn't sleep.

The memory of college flickered in pieces—Kunal's subtle touches, his overly personal gifts, the way he always lingered too long. She had ignored the signs. Dismissed Riaz's warnings.

Now it was coming back.

She turned to see Riaz stepping out of the shower, towel low on his hips, hair wet, eyes darker than night.

"Come here," he said softly.

She walked into his arms without hesitation. He held her against his bare chest.

"I'm not letting anything take you from me, Aashi. I'd burn the world first."

And in the silence of that scarlet night, she finally understood—his warnings weren't threats.

They were promises.