The air in the apartment felt too still.

Like something terrible had already happened — and the walls knew before anyone else did.

Aarfa pushed open the door with a smile on her face, two cups of chai in her hands.

"Zoya! I got the good masala one today, you’re going to—"

Her words froze.

The couch was empty.

The bedsheets rumpled.

Zoya’s shoes were gone.

So was her bag.

And there, on the center table, sat her phone.

Unlocked. Silent. Cold.

Aarfa’s hand trembled.

She called Ayaan.

She called Akif.

No one could believe it.

---

Three hours ago...

Zoya had gone out for milk.

Just down the street. Barely 10 minutes away.

That’s when she saw the black car pull up.

The door flung open.

Before she could even scream, two men stepped out.

And standing behind them...

Was her eldest brother.

Not the one who came to college.

No.

Him.

The one she feared more than her father.

The one who never yelled — but made sure everyone in the house stopped breathing with just a look.

He grabbed her by the arm and hissed,

“Enough running, Zoya. You're coming home.”

“I’m not—!” she tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Create a scene and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” he whispered, calm and terrifying.

They shoved her inside the car.

Her bag was yanked away.

Her phone tossed out the window.

And she was driven out of Mumbai… without a trace.

---

Back at the university, the whispers spread fast.

Zoya was gone.

Akif didn’t speak when Aarfa told him. He just stood there.

His jaw clenched.

Fists trembling.

“Where’s her family from?” he asked, voice low.

“Jharkhand. Bokaro.”

“I’m going there.”

“Akif—”

“I said, I’m going.”

But Ayaan caught his shoulder. “You can’t just show up there like some hero. You need a plan. You need to be careful.”

But Akif couldn’t breathe.

He kept seeing her face — the way she hugged him last night like he was her last bit of safety.

And now she was gone.

---

Meanwhile…

Bokaro.

Zoya sat on the cold floor of her old bedroom.

The same walls.

Same window.

Same bars on the window.

Locked.

Again.

Like a bird that had tasted the sky, only to have its wings cut off and shoved back into a cage.

Her brother’s voice echoed downstairs.

“She’s not leaving this house until she forgets that filthy life she was living.”

Her mother had cried — not for Zoya, but for the shame.

And Zoya?

She didn’t cry.

She just stared at the wall, remembering everything she had built in Mumbai.

The friends. The freedom. The laughter.

Him.

She pressed her forehead to the wall and whispered, “Akif…”

Her chest hurt. Her eyes stung.

But she would not break again.

This time, she would fight.

---

In Mumbai, Akif sat on the stairs outside the campus building.

Staring at her empty classroom window.

“I swear,” he murmured, voice raw, “I’ll bring you back.”

Even if he had to fight her entire past.

Even if it meant burning the whole world down.

---

Yaaayyy the hero with 'i would let the world burn~' energy!!