Rain. Headlights. Screeching tires.

Then impact.

The Bentley spins out of control, metal crunching, windows shattering, bridge railing snapping. Reyansh tastes blood before he even feels the pain.

They hit hard. On the Yamuna bridge.

He blinks through the smoke, ears ringing, hand reaching for Meera. She's slumped against the door, bleeding but alive.

“Meera—stay with me. Don’t move.”

He tries to open his door—

Bang.

A bullet tears into his side. He gasps, falls back.

Bang.

Another.

Then the third.

His vision flickers. He collapses halfway out the car, one hand still reaching for her.

Footsteps. Five men. Masks. Guns. Calm. Professional.

One of them grabs him by the hair, slams his face into the pavement. Another drives a boot into his ribs.

They beat him until he can’t lift his head.

And then—

They go for her.

She screams. Fights. One punches her across the face. Another drags her out by the hair. Her body hits the concrete hard.

“REYANSH!” She screams.

He tries to crawl. Fails. Blood pools beneath him.

They don’t shoot her.

They take their time.

A knife slides across her arm. A boot to her stomach. One of them breaks her wrist. She cries out, still trying to reach for him.

“Please—he’s not breathing—stop—stop!” Meera cries out.

He’s screaming too, hoarse, choking.

“Take me instead—ME, YOU FUCKING COWARDS—”

But they only laugh.

The last man kneels beside her, strokes her blood-matted hair, then whispers something in her ear.

She spits in his face.

So they drag her — broken, gasping — to the edge of the bridge.

Reyansh lifts his head just in time to see her eyes.

Still alive. Still conscious.

Still looking only at him.

“I love you,” she mouths.

And then—

They throw her into the river.

No scream. Just a splash. A red ripple disappearing into black water.

He doesn’t remember what happened after that—only the sound of his voice breaking.

And the silence that followed.

Forever.