8:05 PM — Vasant Kunj, South Delhi

The hum of monitors faded as Dr. Saanvi Mehra pulled off her gloves. Her fifth surgery of the day had gone flawlessly, as always. Her white coat was spotless, her hair tied in a no-nonsense bun, and her voice calm as she gave post-op instructions to the interns.

Twenty-eight. Top of her class from AIIMS. Youngest cardio-thoracic surgeon at R.K. Heart Institute. Revered. Feared. Unshakable.

She didn’t drink. Didn’t date. Didn’t rest.

Saanvi only loved one thing: control.

The moment a human heart beat beneath her hands, she was the god. And yet — outside the operating room, her world was painfully ordinary. A modest flat, a father with diabetes, a younger brother struggling through MBBS.She didn’t know that tonight, she would cut open the chest of the devil.

---

8:07 PM — Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi

Gunfire cracked like Diwali.

Men screamed. Tyres screeched.

Veer Aarya Singh stood in the middle of a blood-drenched street, untouched but furious. A bullet had grazed his side — not fatal, but insulting. One of his men lay dead beside him. He lit a cigarette, as calm as nightfall.

> “No survivors,” he ordered.

Tall, lean, dressed in black. Veer was the ghost-story name whispered in police stations and crime circles. The “clean” businessman who ran pharmaceuticals by day and controlled Delhi’s arms routes by night. No one dared speak his name twice.

But in that moment, something changed.A second bullet tore through the side of his chest — deeper this time. He staggered.The last thing he saw before passing out was the Delhi sky — and a vision:> Her. Again.

The girl from twelve years ago, who once gave him water when he was bleeding on a street corner.

He remembered her voice. Her eyes. Her name.> “Saanvi.”

--

11:29 PM — R.K. Heart Institute, OR-7

Saanvi blinked at the chart in her hands. “Gunshot wound. No ID. High security detail. VIP case.”Why was her heart beating faster?

The moment she entered the operating room, she froze for half a second. The man on the table… even bloodied and unconscious, there was something magnetic about him. Commanding. Brutal. Familiar.

But there was no time for instinct.> “Scalpel.”

---

12:14 AM

She fought for hours. The bullet had shredded arteries near the heart — a centimeter more and he’d have bled out.Her hands didn’t shake. Her breath didn’t falter.But her mind whispered:> Who are you?

He flatlined once. Just once.But she brought him back.And when she closed the final stitch, the monitor steady again, she looked down at him.His lips twitched.And then—His eyes opened.

A deep, rich brown. Cold and burning at once. They locked onto her. “You,” he whispered, his voice hoarse like gravel.“You found me again.”Her heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t speak. You need—”

“Saanvi.”he whisper

Her blood ran cold.

She hadn’t told him her name.

---

Fade Out

In that instant, her world — clean, ordered, safe — split in half.

One side was white coats and hospital lights.

The other… was Veer Aarya Singh.

And he had just made her his.