Arnav eased the car forward, keeping his eyes on the empty temple steps. He couldn't step inside—being a Daavansh made even the air feel like a barrier.
Bani Dadi stepped out, giving him a soft nod. "Beta, I'll be quick. Drive carefully," she said, her voice warm but laced with concern.
Arnav nodded, watching her climb the steps. Only when she disappeared from view did he start the car, intending to leave.
Then, out of nowhere, a sudden movement in front of the car made him slam the brakes.
Pranati lay sprawled on the ground, her scooter toppled beside her. Her ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle. Her breath came in sharp gasps, panic written across her face.
Arnav's calm gaze assessed her immediately, his mind racing but his expression controlled.
"You're hurt," he said softly, kneeling down carefully.
Pranati's eyes snapped to him, wide with fear. "Help me… please!" she cried, trembling, trying to push herself up.
Recognition flashed briefly in Arnav's mind—the girl from the accident. She didn't know him. She had no idea what had happened earlier. A pang of guilt struck him, but he suppressed it.
"Stay still," he instructed, his voice steady. He gently lifted her, making sure she didn't put weight on her injured ankle.
Pranati's chest heaved, panic and frustration mixing. "What my luck…" she whispered, her hands gripping his arms. "First an accident, now… this. I can't even stand!"
Arnav's calm demeanor didn't waver. "You need to be careful. One wrong move, and it could have been worse."
She flinched, leaning slightly on him, her eyes wide and wary. "I can't believe this… How does this always happen to me?" Her voice trembled with exasperation and fear.
He adjusted his hold, steadying her. Every motion deliberate, measured, precise. "You'll be fine. But don't try to move on your own. Let me help you."
They stayed like that for a few tense moments. Pranati's breaths came fast and shallow, her eyes darting around, still shaking. Arnav's calm presence anchored her, though he remained silent, his gaze alert, scanning the surroundings for any further danger.
The world seemed to shrink around them—the ruined scooter, her twisted ankle, the quiet temple courtyard—and for a moment, it was just the two of them: one panicked, struggling, the other controlled, measured, silent.
Pranati let out a shaky exhale, whispering again, "What my luck…"
Arnav said nothing, simply guiding her to stand as carefully as he could, ensuring her weight was fully supported, his calm presence contrasting sharply with her fear.
Pranati gritted her teeth, one hand clutching her twisted ankle. "Mister… why did you have to run your car over me today?" she hissed, her voice trembling with frustration and fear. "You could have picked tomorrow, and I wouldn't have had a problem!"
Arnav's calm, measured gaze met hers. "You… scheduled a date to be hit by a car?" His tone was flat, but there was an edge of incredulity.
Pranati's eyes widened. "No! Of course not! But today… today is important. I… I have to perform a peace puja for my parents. It's… it's an auspicious time, and now I can't… I can't climb the stairs." Her voice broke at the end, panic and regret mingling. "It's… it's my fault… no, it's… your fault! My opportunity… it's gone… because of you!"
Arnav's expression softened slightly. "I… I'm sorry." His words were calm, sincere, almost gentle, but there was no over-the-top melodrama—just the weight of responsibility he felt pressing down on him.
Pranati let out a shaky breath, staring at him, still trembling. "What my luck…" she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Arnav didn't respond. He simply kept her steady, letting the silence hang for a moment, the tension between them sharp but controlled.
To be continued…