Once the last of the traffickers was taken down, the building fell silent, the aftermath of the battle hanging heavy in the air. I stood among the girls we’d rescued, making sure they were all accounted for. But in the back of my mind, I kept returning to Vikrant.

He had been an unwavering force throughout the chaos, his focus unshaken, his movements precise. But there was something else, something in the way he had looked at me when our eyes had locked earlier. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was different from the usual indifference he exuded.

I turned toward him, watching as he spoke with his team, giving quick, efficient orders. He was already moving on to the next task, already planning the next phase of the operation. But when he looked up and met my eyes again, there was something there—a brief flicker of understanding, of acknowledgment.

"Good work," he said, his voice low and steady as he approached me.

I nodded, still processing the weight of what had just happened. "You too. We couldn’t have done it without you."

Vikrant’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. It was enough that he was here, enough that he had helped us get through this.

"We’ll debrief later," he said, his tone still professional, but there was something in it that made me think he wasn’t just talking about the mission.

As Vikrant turned to leave, I felt a flicker of something in my chest—something that wasn’t just the exhaustion from the fight or the relief of the mission’s success. It was something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to admit yet. But it was there, undeniable.

For now, though, the mission was over. The girls were safe. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to breathe, even as I watched Vikrant walk away.