That night, the air carried the sharp bite of late monsoon chill, the kind that sneaks under clothes and settles in bones. They met at their usual quiet corner near the sea—same low parapet at Marine Drive, but farther along where the crowds thinned to nothing and the waves sounded louder, angrier.

Ishani spotted him first. The moment their eyes met, something inside her cracked open. All the hurt from the previous night, the waiting, the fear, the anger—it dissolved into a single, desperate need. She walked straight to him, steps quick and sure, and without a word threw her arms around his neck.