INT. DEPARTMENT – NIGHT – PRESENT
Dim lights buzz faintly overhead.
Mishri stands alone, leaning against a file cabinet in the quiet operations department. Everyone's gone.
A storm rages outside.
She clutches a red folder:
"OPERATION 54 – TERMINATION FILE"
Her fingers hover over it.
A deep breath.
Then—
SMASH CUT TO:
---
EXT. SAFEHOUSE – ROOFTOP – NIGHT (FLASHBACK: 4 YEARS, 6 MONTHS AGO)
Mumbai skyline stretches endlessly under a storm-lit sky.
AHaan — black combat uniform, gun strapped, earpiece active — watches from the rooftop with sharp, emotionless eyes.
He presses two fingers to his earpiece.
COMMANDER (V.O.):
> "Agent Ahaan. Priority alert. Code Red."
"Your next assignment is in. Target has been confirmed."
"Dr. Mahi Shaikh. Threat level: Alpha."
Ahaan blinks.
Stiffens.
He doesn't breathe for a second.
COMMANDER (V.O.):
> "Details incoming. This is a 72-hour window. You've done it before, Agent. Do it again."
A soft ding —
His secure tablet lights up.
Ahaan slowly lifts it.
A photo appears:
Mahi.
In her lab coat. Smiling gently.
Attached file:
> "Target: Dr. Mahi Shaikh – Exposed to Intel regarding Agent 27's identity. Eliminate before leak."
Clearance Code: A-54.
Status: Top Confidential.
The world stops.
Rain begins to pour.
Ahaan lowers the tablet.
His jaw clenches.
He whispers into the comm:
AHAAN (quiet, shaky):
"…No. There must be a mistake."
COMMANDER (V.O.):
> "No mistake, Agent. This came from the top.
Execute quietly. No traces. Clear?"
AHAAN:
"…Copy."
But his voice cracks.
He stares out into the darkness. His hand slowly slides into his pocket —
He pulls out a tiny object.
A bracelet.
Mahi's.
Left behind during a night he tried to forget.
He clutches it tight — like it's the only thing real.
AHAAN (to himself, barely audible):
"You… can't be the enemy. You can't be."
Thunder strikes.
And standing in the rain, soaked and shivering —
Ahaan is no longer the cold, calm spy.
He's a man forced to choose between the mission…
…and the only woman he's ever loved.
---
BACK TO PRESENT – INT. DEPARTMENT – NIGHT
Mishri still stares at the file.
She doesn't cry.
She doesn't move.
She simply whispers:
MISHRI (to herself):
"If only he had chosen the mission...
He wouldn't be breaking piece by piece."
She locks the drawer.
Walks away.
Behind her, the storm slams the windows.
And somewhere, Ahaan still drowns in the consequences of that one call.