Scene Change
Tension crackled across the city.
At a secluded location, students from Georgian University gathered, finalizing plans to attack The Shield. Their leader, Jimmy, paced the room, checking the details one last time when his phone buzzed sharply.
It was a message from an unknown number.
"I know your plan."
Jimmy froze, staring at the screen, disbelief tightening his chest. He immediately ordered his embedded spies — pawns he had carefully placed within The Shield — to investigate. They combed through every conversation, every action, but found nothing unusual. No traitors. No leaks.
Then came a second message, this time recounting chilling details of Jimmy's own dark past — secrets he thought were long buried. His hands clenched into fists, rage surging through him.
Someone wasn't just watching.
Someone knew.
---
That Night...
Shristi stood in front of Wick's house, the faint evening breeze brushing her hair across her face. She adjusted her bag nervously before ringing the bell.
Within seconds, the door swung open. Wick appeared, wearing a loose T-shirt and track pants, a towel casually thrown over his shoulder, his hair still damp from a recent shower.
He flashed a quick, crooked smile.
"Bad timing," Wick said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just about to shower."
Shristi chuckled, easing up at his casual tone.
"No problem. You carry on, I'll wait. By the way..." She glanced past him into the house, wide-eyed. "You live here alone? It's... huge."
Wick stepped aside to let her in, shrugging as he answered.
"Not really. It's my aunt's house. Sometimes I stay here, sometimes at the apartment with Aryan or Deep. Depends on my mood."
Shristi nodded, stepping inside. The house smelled faintly of fresh paint and old books. Warm, cozy, yet grand.
"Got it," she said, smiling.
Wick closed the door behind her.
"Anyway, figured it'd be better to rehearse here," he said. "Nick's at the apartment, too noisy there."
"Good idea," Shristi agreed.
Wick motioned for her to follow him.
"Come on. Let's head to my room before Aunt Chhaya comes home and finds a mess here. She'll actually kill me."
Shristi laughed and trailed behind him up the polished staircase.
When they entered his room, Shristi stopped, genuinely surprised.
The space was impeccably clean — minimalist furniture, neatly arranged books, a few personal items placed with almost military precision. It was organized, but still had an air of quiet chaos hidden beneath.
"Whoa," Shristi said, turning a slow circle. "I wasn't expecting... this. Your room's so clean."
Wick grinned, dropping his towel onto a chair.
"I like things a certain way," he said. "Some people call it obsessive, I call it survival."
Her gaze landed on a shelf filled with trophies and medals gleaming under the soft light. She walked closer, running her fingers just above their surfaces without touching.
"These are amazing..." she murmured, genuine admiration in her voice.
Wick, however, shrugged as if they meant little to him.
"Some of my achievements," he said dismissively. "My uncle doesn't care. For him, I'm just a tool for the family business."
Shristi frowned, feeling a sting of sadness for him, but said nothing.
Instead, her attention shifted to the bookshelf, where a particular book caught her eye — It Ends With Us, the limited edition copy she had always dreamed of owning.
Her face lit up.
"No way!" she gasped. "You have this? I've been trying to find a copy for ages!"
Wick followed her gaze and shrugged again, smiling faintly.
"Take it," he said.
Shristi turned to him, wide-eyed.
"Are you serious? It's a collector's edition!"
"Yeah. It's fine," Wick replied casually. "Aunt Chhaya gives me a book every birthday. I've got a small library now."
Shristi clutched the book to her chest, feeling a strange warmth blooming inside her.
"Thank you," she whispered, sincerity heavy in her voice. "I hope I get to meet your aunt someday. She sounds wonderful."
Wick chuckled.
"Yeah, you'd like her. Now, come on. Let's rehearse before we get too distracted."
They spent the next hour going over their lines, adjusting their tone, perfecting their delivery. The room filled with laughter, mock arguments, and the occasional shared glance that lingered longer than either intended.
When they finally wrapped up, Shristi stretched her arms and smiled.
"Well, I think we're ready," she said, gathering her things. "I should head back now."
Wick, leaning lazily against his desk, straightened.
"I'll drop you off," he said immediately.
"No, no, it's fine," Shristi protested lightly. "You don't have to—"
"Shut up and come," Wick interrupted with a smirk. "Or Annu will kill me."
Shristi laughed, surrendering.
"Okay, okay. You win."
Wick grabbed his keys and they headed out. As they walked to his bike, Shristi glanced sideways at him, remembering something she overheard earlier.
"So... you won't be at the fest tomorrow?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
Wick glanced at her briefly, sensing something deeper behind her words.
"Why do you ask?" he countered.
Shristi hesitated, then admitted softly, "I heard you talking to your uncle... about an important meeting."
Wick sighed, looking up at the sky for a moment before answering.
"Yeah. There's a business meeting. Important stuff. But don't worry," he said, flashing her a reassuring smile. "The boys will handle everything at the fest."
She nodded, even though a small part of her didn't feel reassured at all.
Wick dropped her off safely, waiting until she was inside before riding off into the night.
But sleep didn't come easily for either of them.
Both lay awake in their beds, hearts restless, minds replaying every moment of the evening — every glance, every smile, every word — wondering when the simple bond between them had started to feel so much more.
To be continued...