The first time he saw her, she was bleeding.
The second time, he bled for her.
The rain poured like a curse that night, painting the city in shades of grey and grief. Raghav Rathore stood under the shadow of his armored car, smoke curling from his lips as he watched chaos unfold in the alley across the street.
A girl—drenched, shivering, and clutching her arm—stumbled out of a narrow lane. Her white salwar was stained with blood, her backpack torn. She wasn’t crying. That’s what caught his eye.
Not the blood. Not the limp.
The silence.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t call for help.
She just... walked.
Like she’d been through worse.
He should’ve looked away.
He didn’t.
In that single moment, something ancient and violent cracked inside him.
He wasn’t the kind of man who believed in fate.
But fate, it seemed, had just offered him something he never knew he wanted—
Someone untouched by his world.
Someone he would destroy just by loving.
That night, Raghav didn’t follow her.
He only ordered one thing:
“Find her name.
He didn’t know it then, but that girl would become his obsession.
And he… would become her ruin.
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