Veer's POV

The atmosphere in the Stellar Arts conference room was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the silent tension that always followed me.

 I stood by the window, my back to the Chairman and the marketing heads, staring at the grey Mumbai skyline.

"Veer, the projections for the upcoming single are massive," the Chairman said, his voice

 echoing in the large room. "But we need a different approach. Something raw. Something... emotional."

I didn't turn around. My face was a mask of cold indifference. 

"I'll give you the song. The 'approach' is your department hands.. Just don't make it a circus."

The board members exchanged nervous glances. They were used to my coldness, my bluntness.

 To them, I was a gold mine—a beautiful, singing machine that produced hits. 

"We want a music video with a social angle," a director piped up. 

"Maybe something about—"

"I said, I'll handle the music," I snapped, finally turning around. My eyes were icy, shutting down the conversation instantly. 

"I am leaving."

I didn't wait for a response. I grabbed my leather jacket and walked out, the heavy glass doors swinging shut behind me.

 The moment I was in the quiet of the hallway, the 'Rockstar' persona began to crack. My hand went straight to my pocket.

I stepped into the elevator and pulled out my phone. My thumb moved on its own, navigating to Instagram.

 I hadn't seen any messages from Vani.

Suddenly, I saw a ring around her profile picture.

She posted a story.

My heart did a strange, clumsy thud against my ribs. I tapped it.

It was a photo of her. 

She was standing in what looked like a cafe, 

dressed in a beautiful soft-colored top and jeans. 

She was holding a large bouquet of lilies, a radiant, genuine smile lighting up her face

the kind of smile I hadn't seen in person yet.

I froze, my thumb hovering over the screen. She looked... 

breathtaking.

 So simple, yet so alive. Without even thinking, I pressed the side buttons.

Screenshot saved.

"What the hell are you doing, Veer?" I whispered to myself, staring at the captured image.

 I was acting like a total stalker, but I couldn't bring myself to delete it.

"Veer! Wait up!"

Rudra's voice echoed from the hallway as the elevator doors started to close.

 In a sudden panic, like a teenager caught doing something he shouldn't, 

I shoved the phone deep into my pocket and fixed my expression back into a cold, stony stare.

Author's pov:

"Kahan jaa raha hai?" Rudra asked, catching up to Veer in the parking lot.

Veer looked at him and sighed, his voice flat. "Flat jaa raha hoon, aur kahan jaunga?"

Rudra circled his arm around Veer's neck, ignoring his cold mood. 

"Chal na, kuch khane chalte hain. I'm starving."

Veer shook his head, trying to shrug him off. 

"Nahi, mujhe naye gaane pe kaam karna hai. Tu ja."

"Abe chal na yaar, thode time ki baat hai," Rudra insisted, tightening his grip. 

"Aur waise bhi, kisi mahan insaan ne kaha hai—pehle pet pooja, baad mein kaam dooja."

Veer looked at him with a deadpan expression. "Kaun hai yeh mahan insaan?"

Rudra smiled cheekily and pointed at himself. "Main."

Veer shook his head in disbelief but didn't protest further as he walked toward the car, followed by a triumphant Rudra.

They decided to go to a famous cafe nearby, one known for its aesthetics and quiet corners.

After Sometime;

They arrived at The Gilded Bean, a trendy two-story cafe tucked away in a posh lane.

Veer pulled his black hoodie over his head and adjusted his mask, the familiar weight of his

 "public armor" settling over him.

They headed straight for the mezzanine level, a secluded balcony area that overlooked the

 entire ground floor. It was the perfect spot for someone who wanted to see the world without being seen by it.

"Sit, sit," Rudra whispered, sliding into a plush velvet chair.

"I'm ordering the signature mocha and some loaded fries. Don't tell Aishwarya, she'll kill me for the calories."

Veer didn't respond. He sat on the edge of his seat, his body tense. He leaned forward, resting 

his arms on the wooden railing, his eyes scanning the sea of people below with a strange, magnetic pull.

And then, he found her.

Time seemed to stutter and stop.

Vani was sitting at a round table near the center of the cafe. She looked ethereal in the warm, 

honey-hued light.

She was wearing a thick white cable-knit sweater that made her look soft, almost fragile, and her 

hair was tied in a high ponytail, exposing the graceful line of her neck.

Veer's breath hitched. He had seen her in photo, and he had seen her in the dark at Marine Drive, 

but seeing her here—surrounded by life, laughing, vibrant—it hit him like a physical blow to the chest.

"She's here," Veer whispered, his voice barely audible under the café's jazz music.

"Huh? Who?" Rudra asked, looking up from the menu.

Veer didn't answer. He was mesmerized. He watched the way her hands moved as she signed to 

a girl sitting on her right, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. She looked so happy. So safe.

But then, the air in Veer's lungs turned to ice.

Vani suddenly winced, rubbing her eye.

A man who was sitting on the left side of her, immediately leaned in. 

He didn't hesitate. He reached out, 

his fingers hovering just an inch from her face, his thumb gently pulling down her lower lid to check for a stray eyelash.

Vani didn't pull away.

 Instead, she leaned into his touch, a small, trusting smile spreading across her lips as she looked directly into Man's eyes.

 It wasn't a smile of a fan or a stranger; it was a smile of deep, comfortable affection.

Upstairs, Veer's grip on his water glass tightened.

The glass in his hand began to groan under the pressure. His knuckles were white, his veins popping along his forearm.

 He felt like his chest was being ripped open from the inside.

CRACK.

The sound was sharp, like a gunshot in the quiet mezzanine. 

The glass shattered into a dozen jagged shards.

"Abe! Yeh kya kiya?!" Rudra shouted, jumping back as water and blood sprayed across the table.Veer didn't move. 

He didn't even blink. He stared down at his palm, where a large shard of glass had sliced deep into the meat of his hand. 

Thick, dark blood began to well up, dripping steadily onto the floor, but he felt absolutely nothing. The physical pain was a dull hum compared to the roaring fire in his heart.

"Veer! Tera haath!" Rudra hissed, lunging forward with a stack of napkins. 

"Tu pagal ho gaya hai? What were you looking at?"

Rudra followed Veer's frozen gaze down to the ground floor. He saw the group. 

He saw Vani. And he saw a man, who was playfully ruffling Vani's hair.

Rudra's face went pale. "Oh.."

Veer finally turned his head.

"Hum jaa rahe hain," Veer said. His voice was a low, guttural rasp that made the hair on Rudra's neck stand up.

"Veer, let me wrap this—"

"ABHI," Veer growled, standing up so abruptly his chair screeched against the floor.

He didn't look back.

 He walked toward the exit, his bleeding hand clenched into a fist, leaving a trail of crimson drops on the wooden stairs.

Downstairs, Vani suddenly paused. 

She felt a strange shiver, a sudden heaviness in the air, as if someone had just walked over her grave.

She looked up toward the mezzanine, her eyes searching the shadows, but all she saw was an empty chair.

She touched her chest, her heart fluttering with a sudden, unexplained anxiety.