Author POV:

The college grounds were bathed in the soft golden light of early morning. Birds chirped faintly in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves.

It seemed like the start of a peaceful day—until the watchman, making his usual morning rounds, noticed something strange near the old oak tree by the gates.

A dark red stain streaked the grass, catching his attention. He frowned, stepping closer to investigate. The air around the tree felt heavy, and as he neared, a metallic tang filled his nostrils. His heart began to race.

“What is this?” he muttered, crouching down to touch the damp patch on the ground. His fingers came away sticky, coated in blood. A wave of dread washed over him.

Slowly, he tilted his head upward, following the streaks of red that led to the tree. What he saw made his stomach churn.

Hanging from the highest branch was the lifeless body of the biology professor. His figure swayed slightly in the morning breeze, his arms tied behind his back, his legs severed and lying in a grotesque heap at the base of the tree. His face was so disfigured it was unrecognizable, but the watchman knew who it was.

A piece of paper fluttered in the breeze, dislodged from the body. It landed at the watchman’s feet. Hands trembling, he picked it up and unfolded it.

The words, written in bold, jagged letters, were chilling:

“This is what happens when you hurt her. She is not alone. Try again, and you’ll wish for a quick end. Consider this your only warning.”

The watchman’s hands shook so violently that he almost dropped the letter. His breath came in short, panicked gasps. Morning sunlight glinted off the blood-streaked scene, mocking the serenity of the campus.

The watchman stumbled backward, his legs trembling as he tried to make sense of the gruesome sight. His shouts for help echoed across the quiet campus, cutting through the serene morning like a blade.

Students and faculty began to gather, drawn by the commotion. Gasps and murmurs filled the air as they caught sight of the horrifying scene. Some turned away, unable to stomach the brutality, while others stood frozen, their faces pale with shock.

“Who… who could do this?” one student whispered, her voice barely audible over the growing crowd.

“Wasn’t he… the biology professor?” another murmured, his eyes wide with fear.

The dean arrived shortly after, his usually composed demeanor shattered by the sight. He barked orders at the security team to cordon off the area and called the police.

Within minutes, the police arrived, their presence adding to the tension. The lead investigator, a stern-faced man in his forties, examined the scene with a grim expression.

He took the bloodied letter from the watchman and read it aloud, his voice steady despite the chilling words.

“This wasn’t just a crime,” the investigator muttered to his team. “This was a message. We need to find out who it was meant for.”

The students whispered among themselves, fear taking root as they realized the implications.

Meanwhile, amidst the chaos, Roshni stood in the distance, watching the scene unfold. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breathing was shallow.

She recognized the professor immediately, and her stomach twisted in knots.

The words of the note echoed in her mind. Could this… could this be connected to her?

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as a wave of guilt and confusion washed over her. Memories of the professor’s actions flashed in her mind, but this—this was beyond anything she could comprehend.

The whispers grew louder as rumors began to spread like wildfire. Students speculated, fearfully casting glances at one another.

And somewhere in the shadows, someone watched. Their lips curled into a dark smile, satisfaction gleaming in their eyes. The message had been delivered. Now it was time to wait.

Somewhere in a corner of Mumbai:

"Tumne kiya na yeh?" the man asked again, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the figure lounging on the couch.

The person on the couch, casually sipping his drink, glanced at the photo frame in his hand—Roshni's smiling face staring back at him.

"Haan," he replied simply, his voice calm, almost dismissive.

"Tu kyun nahi samajhta hai yaar, *Vijay*? Woh tujhe barbad kar degi!" The man’s frustration bubbled over, his fists clenching as he tried to reason with Vijay.

Vijay chuckled darkly, setting the photo frame down carefully on the table. He stood up, his tall frame towering over the other man. His eyes glinted with a dangerous mix of obsession and determination.

"Adi-Adi...Agar barbaadi Roshni Singhania hai," he said, his voice low and unwavering, "toh main pal-pal barbad hone ke liye taiyar hoon."

The other man(Aditiya), took a step back. "Tu pagal ho gaya hai, Vijay! Yeh mohabbat nahi, junoon hai. Aur junoon kabhi kisi ka bhala nahi karta."

Vijay smirked, walking closer until he was face-to-face with Aditya.

"Junoon hai toh hone do," he said, his voice unwavering and confident.

"Mera har pal sirf uske naam hai. Jo log meri raah mein aayenge, unka anjaam tumne dekha hai."

Aditya was about to respond when Vijay interrupted him.

"Ye chordo, Saudi ki deal ka kya hua?"

Aditya paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before replying.

"Sab final ho gaya hai, thanks to our team," he said, his eyes glinting with respect towards the people who had made it possible.

Vijay nodded, his smirk never leaving his face.

"As expected. Good work, Aditya."

"Tell everyone to come here," he said as he settled back.

He picked up the glass from his desk and took a sip, his eyes never leaving Roshni’s picture on the wall.