I never meant for it to happen. I was just passing through the village fair, back from college in the city, wearing my crisp shirt and polished shoes—out of place among the dust and drums. Then I saw her. Chanda. Barefoot, her hair wild, eyes wide with curiosity as she watched the puppet show. When our gazes met, something snapped inside me—like a string pulled too tight for too long.

I followed her. Talked to her. Laughed at nothing. She didn’t know who I was. I didn’t tell her I was Suraj Singh’s son. And she didn’t say she was the daughter of Daku Prithvi Singh—the man my father has sworn to destroy.

We met every night after that. Behind the old temple. Under the banyan tree. Hands brushing, words spilling like water. I told her I loved her. She whispered it back.

Then my father found out.

He locked me in the house. Beat me once. Said, 'You will marry the DSP’s daughter. That dacoit’s blood is poison.'

But I escaped. Climbed the wall. Ran barefoot through the fields. I had to see her.

Now I stand outside her hideout, heart pounding. A voice calls from the shadows: 'Akash… if you come in, there’s no going back. My father will kill you. Yours already hates you. And Panna Singh is hunting us both.'

Chanda steps forward, tears in her eyes. 'Is your love strong enough to die for?'