The small crowd that had gathered along the temple steps murmured among themselves, their voices a mixture of curiosity and judgment.
"You hit her! You need to help her up!" one man shouted, pointing at Arnav.
"She's injured because of you! Carry her to the temple!" another added, nodding emphatically.
Arnav's calm, serious expression didn't waver, though his jaw tightened. He knew what they didn't—he couldn't step inside a temple. A Daavansh like him entering sacred ground could have consequences beyond human understanding. Yet, the weight of their expectant stares pressed down on him.
"I… I can't," he said finally, voice low but firm, scanning the crowd.
The murmurs shifted to boos and angry shouts. "Coward! How dare you!"
Pranati, sitting on the steps and wincing from her ankle, looked at him with wide, determined eyes. "I don't care about them. I… I'll forgive you if you take me to the temple," she said softly but firmly.
The words struck Arnav like a jolt. He froze, a flicker of pain crossing his otherwise stoic face. His mind raced—he remembered that day on the highway when he almost… almost killed her. His heart thumped, guilt gnawing at him relentlessly.
If he helped her now, if she truly forgave him… perhaps the weight in his chest would ease, even if just a little.
A long pause followed. He exhaled slowly, the rainlight reflecting faintly on his sharp features. "Alright," he murmured, almost to himself, then knelt carefully before her. "I'll take you."
The crowd hissed, displeased and angry, but Arnav ignored them. His focus was solely on Pranati, lifting her gently yet firmly, the calm control in his movements contrasting sharply with the tension of the moment.
She closed her eyes briefly, a small, tentative smile brushing her lips. "Thank you," she whispered.
Arnav's grip tightened just slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of his actions, the guilt that still lingered, and the fragile trust she had placed in him.
Arnav's arms held Pranati carefully, the weight of her small frame in his hands grounding him in a way nothing else had. Their eyes met—a silent, unspoken understanding passing between them. For a moment, the chaos of the crowd, the world outside, and even his own inner darkness faded.
He approached the temple stairs, each step hesitant. He expected the sharp, searing shock that always accompanied his touch to sacred ground.
But… nothing.
No heat, no jolt, no warning. He froze, staring at the stairs in disbelief.
Unknown to him, the calm presence of Pranati in his arms—a girl whose very essence was Rivanshi—was keeping his darkness restrained. As long as she remained with him, the volatile energy that had threatened to consume him stayed at bay.
The faint strains of a song, almost ethereal, drifted on the air from somewhere far off, as if the universe itself had chosen the soundtrack to this moment:
Kahani Hamari Fasana Hamara
(Our story, our tale)
Ghamon Ne Sunaya Doobara Doobara
(Sorrows have been told again and again)
Arnav blinked, caught between disbelief and awe. He glanced down at Pranati; she seemed serene despite the ordeal earlier.
Meri Daastan Mein Hai Beeghe Se Mausam
(In my story, the seasons have been drenched)
Hui Meri Palkein Kabhi Phir Se Num
(My eyes have been wet once again)
He stepped forward, carefully adjusting his grip, feeling an unfamiliar sense of calm settle over him. Their eyes locked again, each glance carrying an electric mix of caution, curiosity, and something deeper that neither yet fully understood.
Kahani Hamari Fasana Hamara
(Our story, our tale)
Lifting her slightly higher as he began ascending the steps, Arnav whispered, almost to himself, "Stay close… and don't let go."
Liya Dil Se Vaada Kiya Tha Irada
(A promise was made from the heart)
Mohobbat Ki Raahon Pe Chalna Nahi
(Not to tread the paths of love carelessly)
He felt her small hand brush instinctively against his chest—a tentative connection, warm and grounding. A strange serenity washed over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could breathe without the constant fear of losing control.
Liya Dil Se Vaada Kiya Tha Irada
(A promise was made from the heart)
Mohobbat Ki Raahon Pe Chalna Nahi
(Not to tread the paths of love carelessly)
Every step forward was slow, deliberate, yet in that careful ascent, the song—the lyrics—the story of sorrow and promises echoed softly around them, weaving their shared fates together.
With each step, the temple seemed less like a place of danger for him and more like a sanctuary—a space where even a Daavansh could feel, however briefly, the fragile warmth of trust and perhaps… the first glimmer of hope.
Arnav's gaze never left hers. Pranati, silent but steady, seemed to sense the weight of the moment as much as he did. And somewhere, far above, the song carried on, reminding them both that their tale—their story—was only beginning.