Armaan stepped into the room, his heart pounding — not just with relief, but with something warmer, something like joy.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, moving closer to her bed.
"Yeah… I'm fine," Zara replied, her voice still weak. "How did I get here?"
"You ran straight into my car," he explained, pulling up a chair beside her. "I brought you here myself. How are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine now…" she began, then her expression darkened. "They came here, didn't they. If not today, they'll come again."
His brows knit together. "Who are they? They tried to kill you today — tell me who they are."
"They're… no one," she said quickly, turning her face away. "Just forget about them."
"Forget about them?" His voice rose, anger flaring. "Do you really think I'll let this go?"
She hesitated, then smiled faintly, reaching for the badge on her bedside table. "Oh… here. Take it back. And… thank you."
"You're changing the subject again," he said, exasperated. "Fine — if you don't want to tell me, I won't force you. But remember this — I will never let anything happen to you. Friends?" He extended his hand toward her.
She studied him for a moment before her lips curved into a smile. "Okay… friends."
Their hands met, a silent promise passing between them.