Rudra opened his mouth to say something else, but the doorbell rang.

Both men froze.

Rudra frowned. "Koi 8 baje kaun aata hai yaar..."

Veer didn't bother to answer. He simply stared at the door, expression unreadable.

"Main dekh leta hoon," Rudra muttered as he walked toward the entrance.

He opened the door—

—and froze.

Rudra blinked in surprise.

"Ash?" he muttered.

Standing at the door was a woman in ripped jeans, a black crop top, hair tied in a messy bun, and confidence radiating like heat.

Aishwarya.

His twin sister.

And Veer's best friend.

A fierce lawyer by profession—feared in court, dramatic everywhere else.

She brushed past Rudra like he was air.

"Wassup, Veer?" she said, smirking.

Veer's jaw flexed, tongue pushing against his inner cheek as he stared at her.

"Yahaan kyun aayi ho, Ash? Tumhe pata hai—paparazzi mauka dekhte hi news bana dete hain—"

Ash cut him off by placing a hand on his chest.

"Well, banane do na... thodi publicity toh banti hai."

Veer immediately removed her hand, eyes turning cold.

"I told you—I don't like physical touch."

Ash laughed awkwardly.

"Oh come on... main toh isliye aayi thi ki tumhare saath thoda alone time spend karu. But—"

She shot a dirty look at Rudra.

"Yahaan kisi ko third-wheeling ki aadat jo hai."

Rudra scoffed dramatically, mimicking her expression.

"OHH HELLO! Pehle main aaya tha yahaan. So logically, YOU are the third wheel."

They both started bickering like true siblings—Ash flicking his arm, Rudra shoving her shoulder—until—

SLAM!

Veer slammed his glass onto the table, the sound sharp enough to make both of them flinch.

"Cut the act, Ash."

His voice was cold.

Ash only laughed and threw herself onto the sofa.

"Oh God, Rudra! Seriously, you think I'd third wheel between you two love birds?"

Rudra gave her a sarcastic smile and dropped beside her.

"Agar tu meri behen nahi hoti na... toh kab ka tera khoon ho chuka hota."

Ash cackled, then her face slowly turned serious.

She looked at Veer—really looked.

"Veer... tumhara VPH scandal video, maine handle kar liya hai."

She pulled a file from her bag and placed it on the table.

"Lekin... us aadmi ne tumpe case kar diya hai."

Rudra's eyebrows shot up.

"Kya chahiye usko? Usne hi provoke kiya tha Veer ko! Aur ab khud hi case kar raha hai?"

Ash sighed, her lawyer mode activating.

"Veer ek celebrity hai. Aur voh ek common man. So technically, a celebrity raising a hand on a commoner—case toh banega hi."

Veer didn't react.

Didn't blink.

Didn't care.

He just kept drinking.

Ash's voice tightened.

"Veer, tum sun bhi rahe ho?"

Rudra threw his head back.

"Yahi toh dikkat hai iski. Apni problems se koi farak hi nahi padta ise."

SLAM.

Veer slammed the glass again—harder this time.

"Usne case kar diya toh kar diya," he snapped.

"Ab kya main nachu?"

Ash and Rudra exchanged a glance.

Veer was always like this cold

rude.

ice.

Numb.

Detached.

And spiraling.

Ash exhaled slowly, leaning forward.

"Veer... tumhari life sirf gaane aur daru nahi hai. And this case could go very wrong."

Veer closed his eyes briefly, his voice barely above a whisper—cold but tired.

"Toh handle kar lo, Ash. Isiliye toh tum ho."

Veer rubbed his temples and muttered,

"Ab tum dono ka ho gaya ho toh jao. Mujhe fresh hona hai."

Rudra and Ash both sighed.

Rudra pointed a finger at him.

"Company aana mat bhoolna. Aur bina mask ke ghoomte pakde gaye na toh dekh lena."

Veer didn't even turn. He just lifted one hand in the air and showed a lazy thumbs-up, his back still facing them.

The twins exchanged a look.

"Naa jane kab sudhrega ye" Ash whispered.

Rudra nodded. "Kabhi toh sudhrega us din ka intezar hai bus"

They left.

After Some Time;

Veer stepped out of the shower, droplets sliding down his skin. A towel hung low around his waist as he stood in front of the mirror—face blank, eyes emotionless.

He opened his wardrobe.

A pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black hoodie.

He got dressed, grabbed his bike keys, and left the apartment.

He stopped at Starbucks to wake himself up. Mask on, hood up, head low.

He ordered his usual,

"One iced espresso."

He took the cup, stepped aside—and the string of his mask slipped loose.

It fell.

He sighed, annoyed, and removed it completely. The cold coffee touched his lips when—

"Oh. My. God. VEER?! I am your biggest fan! Can I get a selfie please?!"

Veer forced a smile, nodding stiffly.

And that was it.

Like a signal had been fired.

More girls noticed him.

Then more.

Then the crowd formed—dozens of voices squealing, phones flashing.

He clenched his jaw.

"Excuse me... I need to go," he said, trying to stay polite.

But no one moved.

Of course they didn't. Who moves when Veer Singh Rathore stands in front of you?

So he gently pushed his way out, covering his face, frustration simmering underneath his skin.

People began following him.

He quickly put his mask back on and started running.

He turned a corner—

THUD.

He crashed into someone.

His eyes met hers for one sharp, breathless second.

A girl.

Soft eyes.

Confused.

Startled.

But he didn't stay.

He glanced back at the fans chasing him... and ran again.

Author's POV:

In a small girls' hostel nearby, a girl in her early 20s was sleeping peacefully when someone shook her shoulder.

She blinked awake.

Her roommate pointed urgently at the clock.

The girl's eyes widened.

She immediately signed,(I'm late!)

Her roommate signed back,(You still have time. Go!)

The girl nodded, jumped out of bed, got ready at lightning speed, and ran out of the hostel.

On the way, she kept checking her wristwatch, panic rising.

And then—

BAM.

She collided with someone.

A man in a mask.

Tall. Broad shoulders.

Eyes sharp and troubled.

Their gaze met for a brief heartbeat.

Before she could even blink, he was gone—running as if the world was chasing him.

The girl shook her head, held her bag, and rushed toward her college gates.

Girl's POV:

I rushed towards the college gate and spotted my best friend, Noor, standing there with her arms crossed and an annoyed look that instantly softened as soon as she saw me. 

She immediately started signing,

"Kahan reh gayi thi? (Where were you?) Class is going to start!"

I sighed and signed back,

"Overslept..."

She dramatically put her hand on her head, like always, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. We slipped into our seats just before the professor walked in.

 As she opened her notebook, I turned towards the window, watching the morning sun slowly brighten the campus.

My thoughts drifted as the breeze touched my face.

Well... I am Vani Ahuja... 20 years old.

You must be wondering why I haven't spoken a single word till now.

Because I can't speak.

Nor can I hear.

I was born this way.

But trust me, that doesn't make me weak.

If anything, it taught me to listen to the world in a different way.

And before you assume—no, I don't study in a special college.

I'm a student at Mumbai's one of the top colleges—a completely normal one. Why?

Because I never wanted to live wrapped in sympathy.

I didn't want people to look at me like I'm fragile glass...

or someone who needs protecting every second.

I wanted to be normal.

Like everyone else.

Laugh with my friends, chase deadlines, bunk lectures, dream big...

I wanted to live a life where people see Vani, not my disability.

And maybe... just maybe... someday they will.

I straighten in my seat, shake off my drifting thoughts, and try to focus on the board.