The car cruised ahead, but Abhay’s eyes remained fixed on the side mirror.

That face. That smile. That presence.

It wasn’t just recognition — it was an unsettling tug deep in his chest.

Without warning, he spoke.

“Driver, gaadi roko. U-turn lo.”

The tires screeched softly as the driver obeyed.

Aryan blinked. “Bhaiii… kya hua ab? Sabar nahi ho raha kya? Ek baar dekh liya toh dobara chalte hain?” he teased with a smirk.

Abhay didn’t smile.

“Chup kar tu.” His voice was low, sharp. “Tune notice kiya? Uske aas-paas koi guard nahi tha.”

Aryan frowned. “Toh?”

Abhay’s eyes narrowed. “Mujhe theek nahi lag raha. Itni badi rajkumari... akele? Yeh secure nahi hai.”

Aryan raised a brow, mock-shocked. “Areee… toh yeh hai mamla. Humein laga tha bas dekhne ki tadhap hai. Ab Raja Sahib ko fikr ho rahi hai Rani Sahiba ki.” He chuckled. “Kyu? Kya connection hai bhai?”

Abhay ignored the jibe, his silence saying more than any reply.

The car stopped a little ahead from the market. From the tinted glass, Abhay watched.

There she was — Sitara Rajvanshi — laughter in her eyes, sunlight in her smile. Her dupatta fluttered softly with the breeze as she showed something to Kavya.

She looked radiant. Like a queen among the crowd.

“Driver, yahin roko.”

Abhay’s gaze was intense — following her every movement.

Aryan, smirking again, nudged him. “Aur fir? Rani Sahiba se mil bhi lo, Raja Sahib.”

“Shut up, Aryan.” His jaw clenched.

“She’s a princess. Usse itna toh samajh hona chahiye ki uske status ke hisaab se yeh akelapan theek nahi hai. Humare rivals kam nahi hain... kuch bhi ho sakta hai.”

And with that, Abhay stepped out of the car.

He didn’t care that the street was crowded, or that this was not how royalty usually met.

He walked toward her, slow but determined.

Sitara, meanwhile, was completely unaware. Her fingers hovered over a beautiful pair of silver jhumkas.

“Kavya, dekh kitne sundar hain yeh—”

But Kavya didn’t respond.

Sitara turned with a frown— and froze.

Standing just a few feet away was a man. Tall. Sharp. Intense.

And all eyes were on her.

Abhay Rathore.

The wind caught in her hair. Her words died on her lips.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

Their eyes locked.

And in that single second — something unspoken passed between them. A challenge. A storm. A secret.

Sitara’s eyes widened. Her fingers clutched the jhumkas she was about to show Kavya. Her voice trembled slightly, not used to being caught off-guard.

"Tum… tum yahan? Kya…?" she managed, blinking in disbelief.

Abhay smirked — slow, confident, and teasing, as if her confusion amused him.

"Tumhe laga tum akele market ghoom sakti ho, bina kisi guard ke, aur mujhe pata bhi nahi chalega?"

She frowned, taking a cautious step back, regaining her posture.

"Mujhe kya lena dena tumse? Tum kaun hote ho batane wale ki mujhe kahaan jaana chahiye aur kahaan nahi?"

Abhay took a slow step forward. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heartbeat falter.

"Main woh hoon jisse farq padta hai, Sitara Rajvanshi."

Sitara’s brows arched, stunned for a moment by his words and the way he said her name.

"Farq kyun padta hai tumhe?" she asked, chin held high.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

"Shayad tumhe waqt ke saath samajh aaye… ya shayad main samjha doon."

Kavya finally returned to her senses and stepped beside Sitara, confused but sensing the heat in the air.

"Sitara, yeh kaun hai?"

Sitara looked from Kavya to Abhay.

"Koi nahi. Sirf ek… ajnabee jo sochta hai ki sab kuch uske control mein hai."

Abhay gave a low chuckle.