Kinjal woke with a start, her head jerking off the desk at the KC Headquarters. She blinked groggily, the harsh fluorescent lights of the office replacing the warm glow of the ballroom in her dream. It took her a moment to orient herself, her heart still racing from the vividness of the imagined scene.

She glanced around, half expecting to see Shubman standing nearby in his black suit, but the office was empty save for the hum of computers and the faint chatter of officers down the hall. Her cheeks burned as the realization hit her—she had been dreaming. About him.

“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” she muttered, burying her face in her hands.

The dream replayed in her mind unbidden: the dance, the laughter, the stolen kisses. Kinjal cringed, groaning audibly at the memory of how freely she had let herself go in the dream. Shubman Gill? Of all people?

She shook her head, trying to dispel the lingering images. “Get a grip, Kinjal,” she scolded herself under her breath.

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted her out of her thoughts. She quickly sat up straighter, brushing her hair back as if to erase any evidence of her accidental nap.

The door creaked open, and in walked Vayra, Kinjal's best friend and fellow ACP. She held a thick manila folder in her hands, her sharp gaze scanning the room before settling on Kinjal.

“Sleeping on the job, are we?” Vayra teased, her lips curving into a smirk as she closed the door behind her.

Kinjal shot her a withering glare. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was...thinking.”

“Sure you were,” Vayra replied, walking over to the desk and setting the folder down in front of Kinjal. “Here’s the report on the KC Drug Bust. I need you to recheck the details before we finalize it.”

Kinjal grabbed the folder, eager for the distraction. “Got it. Anything else?”

Vayra tilted her head, studying her friend with a knowing look. “You seem...off. Something bothering you?”

Kinjal froze for a split second before shaking her head. “Nope. Just the usual workload.”

Vayra didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Alright. But if you need to talk, you know where to find me.” She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way, Shubman was asking about you earlier.”

Kinjal nearly choked. “What? Why?”

Vayra shrugged, her expression deliberately casual. “Something about needing help with some paperwork. You know how these cricketers are—useless when it comes to anything outside their sport.”

Kinjal rolled her eyes, though her heart inexplicably skipped a beat. “I’ll deal with him later.”

“Good luck with that,” Vayra said with a chuckle before leaving the room.

As the door clicked shut, Kinjal slumped back in her chair, her mind racing. First the dream, now Shubman supposedly asking about her? The universe seemed to be playing some kind of cruel joke.

She groaned, burying her face in her hands again. “Why me?”

Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus on the report in front of her. Work, at least, was straightforward—unlike the increasingly complicated mess in her head.