She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling so much she nearly dropped it. 

She typed as fast as she could and held the screen up to him, her face flushed deep crimson.

"I am sorry sir, mujhe laga yahan mera koi friend hoga. I am on the wrong floor. Extremely sorry."

She didn't even wait for a reaction. She bowed her head slightly and turned on her heel, desperate to reach the safety of the elevator before her legs gave out.

She had only taken two steps when she felt it—a firm, warm tug on her wrist.

Vani gasped, spinning around. Veer was holding her wrist, his grip gentle but unshakable. Her 

gaze flew from his hand to his face. He didn't look like the arrogant Rockstar the media portrayed; he looked desperate.

He immediately let go of her wrist as if he'd been burned, realizing he had startled her. He 

reached into his pocket, pulled out his own phone, and began typing with frantic energy. Vani stood there, rooted to the spot, her heart thumping against her ribs.

After what felt like an eternity, he stepped closer and turned the screen toward her.

"Hi Vani..."

Vani blinked. She looked at the screen, then at him, then back at the screen. Her brain felt like it was short-circuiting. How does Veer Singh Rathore know my name?

She pointed to herself, a silent question in her eyes. Veer didn't move. 

He deleted the previous text and typed again, his eyes locked onto hers, searching for any sign that she wouldn't run. He showed her the phone again.

"Tum galat floor pe nahi ho. Aur main koi 'Sir' nahi hoon."

Vani shook her head, her hands moving in small, confused gestures. She typed back: 

"Aap mujhe kaise jaante hain? Main yahan apne dost se milne aayi hoon."

Veer let out a long, shaky breath. He took one step closer, 

so close she could smell the faint scent of expensive sandalwood and the rain that still seemed to cling to his aura.

He typed one final message and held it up right in front of her eyes.

"Main hi Vivaan hoon"

The rooftop went silent. The sound of the wind and the distant city traffic seemed to fade away. Vani stared at the words, then at the man—the superstar—standing before her. 

The silence she had shared with a "manager" over texts for weeks suddenly had a face. And it was a face the whole world was in love with.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. The "manager" who listened to her, the man who asked about her hobbies, the person who made her feel seen... 

was the man everyone else could only see from a distance.

Meanwhile, in the lobby, the tension was of a completely different kind.

"10 minute ho gaye!" Noor announced, checking her watch and glaring at Rudra. 

"Agar 5 minute mein woh neeche nahi aayi, toh main is hotel ka fire alarm baja dungi."

Rudra, who was trying to look cool while secretly scrolling through security updates, looked at her. 

"Tum bohot violent ho, pata hai? Fire alarm? Direct jail jaogi."

"Tumhare saath jail jana manzoor hai, lekin apni behen ko akele us 'Vivaan' ke bharose chhodna nahi!"

Rudra smirked. "Mere saath jail? Wow, miss coffe. Itni jaldi date pe chalne ka plan bana liya?"

Noor's face turned redder than a beetroot. "Tum... tum badtameez sadu! Chup raho!"

Upstairs, the silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of Vani's shallow breathing. 

She stared at the screen, then at the man—the superstar—whose face was now etched with a raw, desperate guilt. Everything rushed back: 

the mysterious man at Marine Drive, the days of silence, the "manager" who seemed too good to be true.

It was all a lie.

She felt a cold shiver of betrayal. Every sweet word Vivaan had typed now felt like a script written by a celebrity to pass the time. 

She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving with a cold, trembling precision.

"Jhooth kyun bola?" 

Veer looked at the screen, his heart sinking. He began typing, his thumbs flying across the glass.

 "Maine jaan-puch kar jhooth nahi bola... I was scared. I wanted you to know the person, not the fame. I didn't want you to look at me like a 'fan'..."

Vani didn't even wait for him to finish. She typed again, showing him the screen with eyes that were now brimming with hurt.

"You think kisi ki feelings ke sath khelna accha hota hai? Everything 'Vivaan' said feels like a lie now. Maine aap par bharosa kiya tha."

Veer shook his head frantically, reaching out as if to touch her, but he pulled back at the last second.

 He wanted to tell her that Vivaan was more real than Veer had ever been, but the look of pure sadness on her face silenced him.

Vani didn't want to hear any more explanations. 

She turned on her heel, her vision blurred by unshed tears, and headed straight for the elevator.

"Vani, ruko!" Veer whispered, his voice disappearing into the wind. 

He couldn't let it end like this. He threw on his hoodie, pulled his mask up, and ran after her.

In the lobby, Noor had reached her limit. She stood up from the sofa, clutching her heavy bag.

 "Bas! Bohot ho gaya! Ab main upar ja rahi hoon!"

Rudra jumped up to block her. "Oye, ruko! Rules are—"

He stopped mid-sentence. The elevator 'dinged.'

Vani stepped out, her face pale and her eyes fixed on the floor.

 She was walking so fast she almost tripped. Behind her, a tall figure in a black hoodie emerged—Veer.

Rudra's eyes widened. He muttered a silent curse. The secret is out, and the vibe is tragic.Noor lunged toward Vani, grabbing her shoulders. 

"Vani! Kya hua? Us bhen-ke-pakode ne kiya kya? Haan? Kahan hai woh? Aaj toh main uska sar..."

Her signs stopped mid-air. Her hands froze. Her jaw literally dropped to the floor.

Standing right behind Vani, pulling down his mask to breathe, was Veer Singh Rathore.

Noor's brain stalled. the "Creep" Vivaan... the man she had just called a 'bhen-ka-pakoda'...

 was her absolute idol. The Rockstar she had posters of in her room.

Her eyes went wide, her breath hitched, and her inner fangirl hit a high note that her body couldn't handle. Her knees turned to jelly.

"V-V-Veer..." she squeaked.

And then, like a tree being chopped down, she fainted.

Vani reached out, her eyes wide with terror as she lunged to catch her friend.

But Rudra was faster. He stepped in, catching Noor in his arms before she hit the marble floor.

 He looked down at the girl who had been threatening him with a power bank five minutes ago, now looking peaceful and pale in his arms.

"Abe... yeh toh dher ho gayi," Rudra muttered, looking at Veer.

Veer stood there, completely helpless. He wanted to talk to Vani, to beg for her forgiveness, to explain that he loved her—

but how could he? Vani was frantically patting Noor's cheeks, looking between her unconscious friend, the panicked Rudra, and the superstar she now felt she didn't know at all.

The lobby was silent, save for the sound of Vani's frantic tapping. Veer took a step toward her, but Vani looked up at him, her eyes cold and distant,

 before turning her full attention back to Noor.

The Rockstar of the nation stood in the hotel, surrounded by his best friend and the girl of his dreams, and he had never felt more like a stranger.

The lobby of the hotel felt suffocatingly quiet. Rudra gently laid Noor across the plush velvet sofa, while Vani immediately sat on the edge,

 her hands trembling as she rubbed Noor's palms, trying to bring her back to consciousness.

Vani's world was spinning. The person who had become her safe haven, the one who listened to her thoughts when the rest of the world felt loud, was a phantom.

 A celebrity. A man who lived behind a curtain of lights and cameras. To her, "Vivaan" was a friend; to the world, "Veer" was an icon.

 The bridge between those two identities felt like a lie that had swallowed her whole.

She felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

She didn't look up. She couldn't. She knew it was him. 

She could feel the heat radiating from his presence and the heavy, anxious energy he carried.

Veer knelt on the floor beside the sofa, putting himself at her eye level, though she kept her gaze fixed on Noor's pale face. 

He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving slowly, cautiously. He didn't want to scare her away again.

He held the screen out in her line of sight.

"Vani... please meri taraf dekho."

Vani's lip quivered. She slowly turned her head. Seeing him like this not on a stage, but kneeling on a carpeted floor in a silent lobby, looking like he was about to break—hurt more than the lie itself.

She opened her phone, her movements robotic.

"Sab kuch jhooth tha? Marine Drive se lekar ab tak?"

Veer's eyes filled with a desperate light. He typed frantically

"Nahi! Kuch bhi jhooth nahi tha. Sirf naam jhooth tha, Vani. Jo baatein maine tumse ki, jo feelings hain... woh sirf Vivaan ki nahi, Veer ki hain. Main darta tha ki agar tumhe sach pata chala toh tum mujhse dosti nahi karogi. Tum darr jaogi."

Vani looked at the text and then at him. She signed with a slow, heavy hand: 

"Main ab bhi darr rahi hoon."