"Are you okay?" he asked again, his voice laced with concern. Ayesha shook her head slowly, as if the weight of the world had suddenly settled on her shoulders. She bent down, picking up the scattered items around her and quickly stuffing them into her bag. She rose to her feet with a slight struggle, her mind racing.
"Why did they follow you?" His question lingered in the air, as if daring her to answer. Ayesha locked eyes with him, her gaze sharp. She then spoke with a firmness that echoed through her chest.
"That's none of your business," she replied coldly.
He let out a soft chuckle, almost to himself. "Yeah, you're right. It's never been my problem," he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He paused for a moment, then extended his right hand toward her, a polite gesture of introduction.
"Hi, I'm Aman."
Ayesha stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then replied, "Thanks for saving me." Without another word, she slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk away.
She glanced back over her shoulder briefly, her eyes narrowing as she saw him still standing there, his hand extended, his face now showing the disappointment of someone left hanging. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he felt any real connection to her. She quickly shook off the thought, increasing her pace.
No. She wasn't in a place to care about anyone else. Trusting people, getting to know them—those things felt like distant memories. The idea seemed impossible now.
She walked further, barely noticing the world around her until she reached a circular platform. The air was thick with tension, and her heart wasn't at ease. As she scanned the crowd, she felt the weight of every gaze on her. People sitting nearby had their phones out, glancing at her face, then back at their screens, whispering among themselves. A few stood up in fear, while others turned their faces away, their expressions filled with disdain.
Ayesha's cheeks burned with discomfort. She could feel their eyes piercing her, judging her every movement. She quickly reached into her bag and grabbed a book, raising it to shield her face from their intrusive stares.
But then, a voice broke through the chaos.
"So, you're the one who caused the uproar in New York, aren't you?" The question rang out, and Ayesha froze. She lowered the book, looking at him in disbelief.
"What?" she asked, her voice betraying her shock.
"I'm not saying it, the news is," Aman replied, raising his phone, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've made quite an impression."
Ayesha's heart skipped a beat. How did he know? Was it really that big of a deal?
Without thinking, she grabbed the phone from his hand and hurled it to the ground. The screen shattered upon impact, sending pieces of glass scattering across the ground.
Aman bent down to retrieve the broken phone, his expression unreadable. "Ugh..." he muttered, shaking his head. "You really are something, aren't you?"
Ayesha clenched her fists at her sides, her temper flaring. "Just because you broke something doesn't make the truth go away," he added.
"Look," Ayesha snapped, her finger pointed straight at him, "don't go around saying things you don't understand. Just because it's on the news doesn't mean it's true."
Aman raised an eyebrow. "So, what is the truth then?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity, but also something darker.
Ayesha's eyes hardened. "That's none of your concern," she replied, her tone icy. "And don't follow me." With those final words, she turned sharply, her pace quickening as she distanced herself from him.
Aman stood still for a moment, watching her leave, his smile faint but knowing. "What to do, Miss Ayesha Siddique… following you is part of my duty, isn't it?"
As Ayesha walked away, memories from the police station flashed before Aman's eyes. He remembered how he had allowed her to be released, a decision that had come with its own weight. He hadn't planned for it, but something about her had shifted his thinking.
"Let her go?" Aman had asked, his voice firm, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.
Officer Arun, visibly confused, had looked at him with skepticism. "What are you saying, Officer Aman?"
Aman had locked eyes with him, his gaze unwavering. "We can catch the others through her," he'd said calmly. "But only if we let her go now."
The officer had paused, considering the request. It was unorthodox, even risky, but after a beat, he'd nodded in agreement. "Alright, give her space for now," he instructed, yielding to Aman's plan.
Aman had stood back, watching with a steady gaze as Officer Arun approached Ayesha. He signaled for her to follow him, and she did—reluctantly, but with no other choice. Aman didn't take his eyes off her, his mind racing with possibilities.
Now, as he stood in the present, he recalled that moment with a sense of clarity. From that moment, he had been watching her, carefully observing every chance to enter her life. He had played the long game, stepping in when the opportunity arose—like when he'd saved her from the bullies, a small but significant act that connected them in ways she didn't yet understand.
His mind sharpened as he thought back to all the events leading up to this point. He had carefully positioned himself, learning her vulnerabilities, and now, he was prepared to move forward.
Taking a deep breath, Aman's thoughts fell into place. He wasn't about to let her slip from his grasp—not when he was this close.
With a finality to his movements, he removed his sunglasses, placing them on the table. He picked up his Bluetooth headset, slipping it into his ear with a smooth gesture. He then spoke, his voice cold and precise, the weight of his words settling over him like a heavy cloak.
"Yes, sir. Everything's perfect. I've entered the mission."