The sun had long vanished by the time Ron reached the apartment. The world outside was bone-white and silent, crusted with ice. His boots crunched faintly against frozen pavement as he climbed the stairs, breath fogging the air.
His satchel was heavier now—four more orbs inside. Each one pulsing faintly with that sickly green light.
He unlocked the door.
It was too quiet.
Inside, the air felt brittle. Priya sat curled on the couch, knees hugged to her chest, face half-hidden in shadow. Her eyes were swollen. She looked up, startled, but quickly turned away, blinking hard.
"You promised," she whispered.
Ron stood in the doorway, guilt rising in his throat. "I know. I—"
"I thought you left me. Like the others."
The words hit him harder than any blow. He stepped inside, closed the door gently behind him.
"I didn't. I wouldn't."
She didn't answer, just stared at the floor. Silence stretched between them like a wound.
Later, he sat on the floor, wiping dried blood from his jacket. Priya hadn't moved from her place by the window, her face distant.
"I saw Raj," he said suddenly.
She looked over, surprised.
"He's evolving. Like me. His men are out there hunting cores. Digging them out of corpses to feed him."
Priya's face tightened. "He's using them?"
"Yeah," Ron said, jaw clenched. "And fast. I heard them talking—they're planning to hit Fourth Block tomorrow."
Her lips parted. "Can we stop him?"
"I don't know," Ron admitted. "Not yet. But I will."
She nodded slowly, then looked at his satchel. "Did you get more?"
He reached inside and pulled out one of the orbs. It throbbed gently in the dim light. Priya leaned forward, watching.
He extended his left hand.
The veins there shimmered faintly, a greenish hue threading under his skin like liquid emerald. As he placed the orb in his palm, it disintegrated into glowing threads—absorbed instantly.
She stared in awe. "That's how it works?"
He nodded. "You've heard me talk about it, but… yeah. This is the first time you've seen it."
"It's inside you," she murmured. "That thing."
"I think it chooses. Bonds to people like a parasite—or maybe something more. Mine picked my left hand."
She shivered and looked down. "It's incredible. And terrifying."
Ron didn't respond. He could still feel the energy settling under his skin, hot and cold at once.
A long pause followed.
Then Priya's voice softened. "Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"I haven't told you everything."
She sat cross-legged now, facing him fully.
"My mom died when I was a kid. Dad remarried. It was… okay, for a while. Then he passed away four years ago. And suddenly, everything changed."
Her voice grew quieter.
"My stepmother and her son—my stepbrother—they started treating me like a stranger. Accusing me of stealing, calling me names. I wasn't safe. So I left. Came to Delhi. Started fresh. I became a store manager. I was proud of that. It was my life."
She looked away.
"Now all of it's gone. And I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
Ron said nothing. He just sat beside her, quiet, steady.
She looked at him again. "I know I've been leaning on you too much. Acting like you're some savior. But you're just a guy. A guy who's trying."
"I'm not a hero," Ron said softly. "Just trying to stay alive."
Silence stretched between them.
She hesitated, then stood up.
Then, quietly, she said, "Sleep here. With me."
He hesitated. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "It's cold. And I don't want to feel alone anymore."
The bed was narrow, the sheets thin. They lay side by side beneath the blanket. At first, there was space between them—but slowly, wordlessly, they drifted closer.
Her head rested against his shoulder. One hand found his chest, light and unsure, like she was afraid he'd vanish again.
"I only have you now," she whispered.
Ron looked up at the ceiling, the faint glow of the candle casting pale shadows on the wall.
"I'm here," he said.
Outside, the city was silent. But inside that room, for one night, they were warm.
And for the first time since the world had fallen apart, Ron felt the faint flicker of something he thought he'd lost—
Hope.