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“Zoom in,” I command.

As the image enlarges, a distinctive ‘Z’ becomes visible on the cap. The same style of ‘Z’ that was on the package sent to Simran.

“Find out,” I tell Abhay. “Check Simran’s business records. See if she has any clients or customers with the initials ‘Z’.”

“Already on it,” Abhay nods in response, already issuing orders to the team. I lean over the table, my eyes locked on the paused image of the man in the footage.

“He wants us to find him,” I muse aloud. “He thinks he’s doing us a favour by leaving a clue.” A dangerous smile plays on my lips. “What he doesn’t know is that he won’t live long enough to regret crossing paths with me. The moment I find him, he’s dead.”

My protective instinct is in full force. Someone is targeting Simran, and they will pay for it. Every resource I have, every connection, every skill I’ve honed—they’re all focused only on one thing now. Finding the person who dared to threaten my woman and make them regret ever trying to scare her.

****************

I return to the apartment late at night, my body exhausted and my mind restless. The day’s events, especially Simran’s fear and distress, play continuously in my mind. Claire greets me as I step inside, her expression a mix of worry and exhaustion.

“Is she asleep?” I ask, hoping Simran is finally getting the rest she needs after today’s ordeal.

“No,” Claire replies, shaking her head. “She’s in the kitchen. I tried to get her to rest, but...” She trails off, helpless.

“I’ll take care of her,” I assure her. “Can you stay with Veer tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll sleep in the nursery, and if he needs Simran during the night, I’ll wake her.”

“Thank you, Claire.”

The moment I step into the kitchen, my heart clenches at the scene before me. Milk is spilling over the counter, yet Simran stands frozen, lost in her thoughts, until she suddenly snaps back to reality and turns off the stove. But there’s no relief in her movements. Instead, her shoulders sag, and she starts crying. Not soft, restrained tears—but bitter, heart-wrenching sobs that cuts through me like a knife.

“Simran,” her name leaves my lips in a rush as I hurry toward her. She doesn’t seem to hear me. She grabs a cloth and tries to wipe away the spilled milk, all the while crying.

“Leave it,” I say, pulling her back gently but firmly. “Claire will clean it up.”

She resists, shaking her head as if she can’t even hear me. “It’s just milk, Simran,” I try to calm her. “Stop crying over it. It’s okay.”

She struggles against my hold.

“It’s NOT okay!” she cries out, pushing me away. Her voice breaks as she runs her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Nothing happening with me these days is okay. Just... leave me alone.”

“I didn’t come here to leave you alone,” I say firmly, stepping closer, not willing to back away this time.

“I know that, but you being anywhere near me when I’m like this, emotionally vulnerable, is not good. I then start expecting things from you, when I know I shouldn’t. Not after what I did with you...” She chokes on her words. “So please… just leave.”

Her words sting as I know exactly what she means—my constant withdrawal whenever we get close, and the way I pull away just when she needs me the most. Seeing her bury her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs, breaks something deep inside me.

I step closer, gently pulling her hands away from her face. She finally looks at me, tears still streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I shake my head. “You don’t have to apologise. I know today was terrifying for you,” I say, my voice steady but soothing. “But that masked man—he’s just playing mind games with you. The stains on that scarf, Simran—they weren’t blood. It was just paint. He’s trying to mess with you using psychological tactics. Don’t let him get into your head.”

She shakes her head furiously.

“You don’t understand! This isn’t just about today. It’s my karma, Vishnu.”

Karma! I freeze, confused. What is she talking about?

“I deserved this… after… after what I did with you.” Her voice cracks, rising in hysteria, as she continues. “They say karma always hits back, and this is mine.”

She runs her fingers through her hair again in pure agony.