INT. AHAAN'S APARTMENT – MUMBAI – NIGHT
The lights are off.
Rain taps softly on the windows,
but there's no emotion left in the air.
Ahaan stands in front of a mirror.
Wearing a crisp black shirt, buttons undone at the top.
He stares at himself.
Eyes colder.
Voice sharper.
The grief replaced by stone.
He adjusts his collar.
AHAAN (to himself, hard):
"She left.
She made her choice."
---
INT. INTELLIGENCE AGENCY – BRIEFING ROOM – LATER
Ahaan walks in — the entire department turns silent.
No smile.
No emotion.
Just raw focus.
He throws a file on the table.
AHAAN (flat):
"Next mission. Assign it to me."
V.O. (nervously):
"You're not cleared yet. Your mental file—"
AHAAN (cold):
"I don't need your clearance.
I need a damn target."
The others shift, uncomfortable.
He's not the same man anymore.
He's faster.
More brutal.
He hasn't missed a shot in weeks — but he doesn't speak to anyone unless necessary.
They say heartbreak breaks people.
Ahaan turned his into a weapon.
---
INT. GYM – MIDNIGHT
Ahaan punches the boxing bag.
Again. Again. Again.
His knuckles bleed through the tape.
Mishri watches from afar, hidden in the dark.
She sees it:
The anger
The rage
The hollow behind his eyes
She whispers to herself:
MISHRI:
"She loved you more than life…
and now you're punishing her for surviving without you."
---
INT. AHAAN'S BALCONY – EARLY MORNING
Ahaan stares at the city skyline.
He finishes his black coffee and crushes the cup.
Then, bitterly mutters:
AHAAN:
"She was weak.
She didn't stay.
She didn't fight."
His hands shake — not from anger…
but from the war inside his chest.
The war between love and resentment.
And right now?
Resentment is winning.