Vihaan and Myra sat in the dimly lit reading hall, flipping through the fragile pages of history. Every word felt like a distant echo, a story they had already lived but were only now remembering.
Veer and Meera. Satya and Saanvi. The betrayal, the sacrifice, the love that defied time itself. It was all there, written in ink, no longer a mystery to the world.
"It's strange," Myra murmured, running her fingers over an old sketch of Meera. "This should feel like just another story from the past, but…"
Vihaan nodded. "But it doesn't. It feels like ours."
For the first time, there were no missing pieces, no unanswered questions. The city, the people, the very air carried traces of the lives they had once lived.
The realization settled between them—this wasn't just about discovering history. It was about accepting it.
"So," Myra said, closing the book gently. "Now what?"
Vihaan exhaled, a slow, thoughtful breath. "We move forward."
Their past was no longer a secret. But their future? That was still unwritten.