The grand ballroom buzzed with conversations and laughter, chandeliers casting shimmering light over the elegantly dressed guests. Dhwani arrived with her parents, Rajveer and Anuradha Singhania, navigating the crowd with polite smiles and cautious glances.

Not far away, Diya Malhotra scanned the room until her eyes landed on a familiar face. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she waved subtly. Dhwani noticed and made her way toward Diya.

"It's so good to see you here," Diya said quietly, trying to balance herself on her towering heels. "But these shoes are killing me."

Dhwani chuckled, shifting her weight. "Tell me about it. I don't think my feet will survive the night."

Diya glanced around, then lowered her voice. "Come on, let's get some air. My room is just upstairs - we can rest a bit."

Dhwani nodded gratefully, and the two slipped away from the crowd, seeking refuge from the dazzling event.

Upstairs in the Malhotra estate, Indira Malhotra noticed Diya's absence. A flicker of concern crossed her face. She pulled out her phone and called her son.

"Darsh, have you seen Diya? She's not downstairs."

Darsh Malhotra, always alert and composed, frowned. "Not yet, Mom. I'll Check."

The elevator dinged open with a soft chime, but Dharsh barely noticed. His steps were sharp, purposeful, echoing through the corridor of the luxury suite floor. Diya had been missing from the ballroom for too long, and Indira's concern had come down on him like a command.

He stopped. Knuckles tapping twice on the door. Silence. No response.

Without waiting, Dharsh pushed open the door, expecting to find Diya lounging, maybe on a call or fixing her makeup. But instead, his eyes locked on someone else-someone unfamiliar, yet somehow... magnetic.

She stood on the balcony, back slightly arched as she leaned forward, speaking urgently into her phone. The city lights bounced off her profile. Her soft curls framed her face, and her posture held a poise he wasn't used to seeing at an event like this. She wasn't part of their world. She was something... else.

"I understand, but please keep the line open. Inform the head nurse that the patient's pressure dropped after the third dose. I'm sending Dr. Patel back in; keep him updated every fifteen minutes. And make sure the family is informed. I'll try to reach there if things don't stabilize."

Her tone-steady, responsible-wasn't casual. It was professional, urgent. A woman used to pressure, clearly someone from the medical field. He shouldn't have been listening. He wasn't supposed to care. And yet... he didn't look away.

She turned around after ending the call, slightly startled to see someone in the room.

Dharsh snapped out of it just as the bathroom door opened and Diya stepped out, her expression relaxed until she noticed the tension.

"Oh! Dharsh! You scared me. You found me already?" she chuckled, then gestured toward the girl. "This is Dhwani. She's a friend. Just helping me escape my heels for a while."

Dharsh nodded once, lips pressed into a line. His eyes flickered to Dhwani again-quick, restrained, but he couldn't stop the thought echoing in his mind.

Who is she?

The way she held herself, the confidence in her voice-it wasn't just beauty that struck him. It was something deeper. Something he couldn't name and didn't want to explore.

Not again.

He cleared his throat. "You both should come down. Everyone's asking."

His voice was as clipped as ever. He didn't wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and exited the room, but not before casting one last glance in Dhwani's direction.

She was still standing there, almost unreadable.

---

Dharsh's POV:

What the hell just happened in there?

He reached the end of the hallway, hand tightening into a fist. That pull... that strange stillness in his chest. It wasn't normal.

She's just another guest. Just someone Diya knows.

But her voice still rang in his ears. The way she'd spoken about the patient. Calm. Commanding. It had nothing to do with him, and yet he felt oddly proud, protective even.

No. You don't do this again. Focus, Dharsh. She's nothing to you.

And yet, his pace slowed.

And he knew-this wasn't the end of it.

---