Author's POV:

Veer was back in his apartment, the city lights bleeding in through the glass walls, a half-filled glass resting loosely in his hand. 

He had been drinking—but not like before. Not to forget. Just... to sit with his thoughts.

His phone buzzed.

Normally, he ignored notifications when he drank.

But these days—

His phone was always in his hand.

He unlocked the screen.

Vani: hii

A small, unconscious smile crept onto his lips.

He replied immediately.

Vivaan: hii

And just like that, time softened.

They talked about random things—college nonsense, bad canteen food, how Mumbai never really slept, how silence could sometimes feel louder than noise. 

It was easy. Effortless. Like breathing.

Then Veer paused.

His thumb hovered.

He typed... erased... typed again.

Finally—

Vivaan: vaise umm... kya tum mujhe sign language sikhaogi?

On the other side of the city—

Vani froze.

Her fingers stilled above the screen.

Except Noor... no one had ever asked her that.

Not relatives.

Not classmates.

Not even people who claimed to "care."

Her chest warmed in a way she wasn't used to.

She typed back slowly.

Vani: tum pehle ho... noor ke alawa... jo sign language seekhna chahta hai.

Veer read the message.

Once.

Twice.

His heart clenched.

Did no one ever try to understand her world?

Did no one ever try to meet her halfway?

He swallowed.

Vivaan: mujhe bas tumse baat karni hai... jab hum mile toh.

Vani's breath hitched.

Her heart skipped—clean, sharp.

She stared at the screen, then smiled to herself.

They continued talking—small things again. Comfort things.

Until—

Vivaan: umm... mujhe thoda jaana hoga.

Vani blinked.

Something about that line tugged at her.

She typed back.

Vani: kahan?

Veer stared at the message.

No one ever asked him that.

Rudra asked where are you going—out of habit.

Managers asked—out of control.

Fans never asked—they assumed.

But this?

This was concern without ownership.

He typed before thinking.

Vivaan: cigarette peene.

The second he sent it, he frowned.

Idiot.

Vani read the message.

Her brows knitted.

She didn't like smokers.

Never had.

But she also didn't want to sound judgmental.

So she asked.

Vani: ciggrate pite ho?

Veer unsure what to say so he replied 

veer : hmm

Vani sensed the awkwardness and tried to break it

as she typed.

Vani: dhumrapaan sehat ke liye hanikarak hota hai.

Veer read it.

The corner of his lips curved.

Without thinking—without filtering—he typed his subconscious out loud.

Vivaan: aur aap... dil ke liye.

Seen.

Silence.

Veer's eyes widened.

"What the fu—"

He stared at the screen.

"...Veer, tu pagal ho gaya hai kya?"

He dragged a hand down his face.

"Eww. Cringe.  stupid."

Across the city—

Vani stared at her phone.

Her cheeks warmed instantly.

She pressed her lips together, flustered.

That's when—

Noor, who had been pretending to work on her laptop, casually pushed it aside and snatched Vani's phone.

vani jumped from her place trying to take her phone back.

Too late.

Noor read the last message.

Her eyes widened slowly.

Then she looked up.

Smirked.

And signed rapidly.

Noor: Don't tell me... you're seeing someone.

Vani groaned, putting a hand on her head and signing back.

Vani: No!

Noor wasn't convinced.

She started firing questions—one after another.

Kaun hai?

College ka hai?

Handsome?

Creep toh nahi?

Vani sighed, then finally relented.

She signed slowly, explaining.

Everything.

Noor paused.

Then signed sharply.

Noor: Wait—tumne uska face nahi dekha?  Bro What if he's a creep?

Vani shook her head gently.

Vani (signing): I don't think so.

Her expression softened.

Vani (signing): Usne mujhe samajhne ki koshish ki... bina sympathy dikhaye.

Noor studied her for a moment.

Then sighed and signed.

Okay... but give me his id, i need to do background check on him.

Meanwhile;

Veer was pacing his apartment, phone in hand, panicking like a teenager.

"20 minutes ho gaye," he muttered.

"Reply kyun nahi aaya?"

Zyada bol diya kya?

Boundary cross kar di?

He was mid self-lecture when—

The apartment door swung open.

"BROOO—" Rudra barged in, full energy.

Then stopped.

Veer was pacing.

Hair messy.

Phone clutched.

Expression—panicked.

Rudra's lips curled slowly.

"Oooooooh."

Veer froze.

"What."

Rudra folded his arms.

"Hmm hmm... ladki ka chakkar."

"Bakwas band kar," Veer snapped.

Rudra grinned wider.

"Veer Singh Rathore... nervous? Ye toh first time hai."

veer immediatley snapped "kuch kaam hai toh bol varna jaa yahan se"

rudra sighed as he put hands on his waist and he said "Okay fine,now tell me what happend?"

veer looked at him unsure what to say,he slouched down on the sofa and said.

"Rudra... I think I—"

He stopped. Shook his head.

"Maybe maine kuch... boundary cross kar di."

Rudra straightened instantly.

"Boundary?"

He walked closer. "Kiski?"

Veer hesitated.

Long enough for Rudra to get impatient.

Veer lifted his phone.

Rudra stopped in his track.

"What?"

Veer didn't explain.

Just held the screen out.

Rudra blinked.

Then sighed.

"Dikha."

Veer hesitated again.

Rudra looked at him sharply.

"Abey, dikhana."

Veer unlocked the phone and passed it.

Rudra scrolled.

Once.

Twice.

Then he reached that message.

"aur aap... dil ke liye."

There was a beat.

Then—

"Oh my God."

Rudra burst out laughing.

Veer stiffened instantly.

"Kya."

Rudra laughed harder, clutching the phone.

"OH MY GOD."

Veer snapped.

"Rudra."

Rudra wiped his eyes.

"The Veer Singh Rathore," he gasped,

"jo pyaar ko marketing gimmick bolta tha—"

He looked at him dramatically.

"—is flirting over cigarette texts!"

Veer scowled.

"shut up"

"Lekin bhai," he said, lowering the phone,

"cigarette peene jaa raha hoon—ye kaun bolta hai ladki ko?"

Veer froze.

He looked... genuinely worried.

"Galat likha?" he asked quietly.

Rudra's smile faded.

He studied Veer's face.

This wasn't arrogance.

This wasn't playboy confidence.

This was a man who had no idea how normal human connections worked.

"Veer," Rudra said slowly,"Tujhe ladkiyon se baat karni bilkul nhi aati"

Veer ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't mean to make her uncomfortable."

Rudra sighed.

"You didn't," he said.

"Tu bas... inexperienced hai."

Veer blinked.

"Inexperienced?"

Rudra smirked.

"Emotionally," he clarified.

"Isliye bol raha hoon—"

He pointed at him.

"Bhai, you need coaching."

Veer frowned.

"Ayien?"

Rudra laughed.

"Basic human interaction coaching," he said.

"Level one: What not to text a girl."

Veer sat down slowly, staring at his phone again.

"I don't want to mess this up."

Rudra's teasing softened.

"Then don't pretend you don't care," he said.

"And don't overthink every word."

Veer looked up.

"Tu help karega?"

Rudra smirked.

"Obviously," he said.

"Bestfriend aur Manager dono hoon tera. Career sambhala hai—

ek ladki ka text bhi sambhaal hi lunga."

Veer huffed a breath he didn't know he was holding.

And for the first time that night—

He smiled.

Not wide.

Just enough.

Author's POV

Rudra dropped onto the couch beside Veer, stretching his legs.

"For the record," he said casually, "we are both losers."

Veer glanced at him.

"What?"

Rudra nodded seriously.

"Haan. Tu emotions mein, main second-hand embarrassment mein."

Veer rolled his eyes.

"Tu chup reh."

Rudra smirked.

"See? Defensive already. First symptom."

Veer exhaled through his nose and stared at his phone again.

"She hasn't replied," he said after a moment.

Rudra leaned forward.

"Kitni der ho gayi?"

"Almost Thirty-minutes."

Rudra blinked.

"Tu time bhi note kar raha hai?"

Veer didn't answer.

Rudra clicked his tongue.

"Okay. Rule number one—"

He raised a finger.

"Don't panic."

Veer scoffed softly.

"I'm not panicking."

Rudra raised an eyebrow.

"You counted minutes."

Fair.

Veer leaned back, rubbing his face.

"I shouldn't have sent that."

Rudra shook his head.

"Wrong. Tu pehli baar honest tha."

Veer looked at him.

"Honesty scares people."

"Not everyone," Rudra said.

Veer fell silent.

Rudra leaned back.

"Okay," he said.

"The coaching starts now."

Veer frowned.

"Seriously?"

Rudra held up the phone.

"She will reply. But When she does—"

He looked straight at Veer.

"Tu over-explain nahi karega."

Veer nodded slowly.

Then his phone buzzed.

Both froze.

Veer stared at the screen.

Rudra whispered dramatically—

"Ladies and gentlemen... moment of truth."

Veer opened the chat.

Vani:😐

Just that.

One emoji.

Veer's heart dropped.

"Khatam," he said flatly.

Rudra squinted.

"Abey pagal hai kya? Emoji hai, FIR nahi."

Veer stared.

"Is that bad?"

Rudra thought for a second.

"No."

Then smirked.

"It's curious."

Veer looked at him.

"Curious?"

"Haan," Rudra said.

"Angry hoti toh seen pe chhod deti."

Veer exhaled.

"So what do I say?"

Rudra leaned in.

"Simple. Clean. No drama."

He dictated slowly—

"'Sorry. Zyada bol diya.'"

Veer typed.

Paused.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Sent.

Now they waited.

Silence.

Veer stared at the ceiling.

"I don't like this," he said.

"Kya?"

"Waiting," Veer replied.

"Feeling dependent."

Rudra nodded.

"Welcome to being human."

Another buzz.

Veer unlocked instantly.

Vani: It's okay 🙂

That's it.

Veer stared.

"That's... it?"

Rudra smiled.

"That's enough."

Veer felt something loosen in his chest.

"She didn't scold."

Rudra chuckled.

"Told you."

Veer hesitated, then typed—

Vivaan: Main aisa nahi hoon usually.

Rudra groaned.

"ABEY—"

Too late.

Seen.

Veer panicked.

"Why did I send that?"

Rudra rubbed his temples.

"Because you are emotionally unclothed."

Veer's phone buzzed again.

Vani: Pata hai.

Veer froze.

"How does she know?"

Rudra smiled knowingly.

Veer leaned back, eyes closing.

For the first time in years—

He didn't feel loud.

He didn't feel watched.

He didn't feel like Veer Singh Rathore.

He was just... a guy learning how to communicate.

Rudra clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Congratulations," he said.

"Tu officially phase one cross kar chuka hai."

Veer frowned.

"Phase one of what?"

Rudra smirked.

"Falling without realizing it."

Veer opened his eyes.

"Shut up."

But he didn't mean it.