She still had that smile on her face—the real one.
As she stood, she slipped her heels off quietly, slid them into her bag, and put on her old shoes. They didn't match the dress, but they felt like herself. She pulled her jacket over the soft fabric, hiding the elegance beneath something tougher, something safer. Then she walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
The night felt heavier.
She went straight to her uncle's place. The building was alive—too alive. Men moved around with purpose, voices low, eyes sharp. The smell of smoke, metal, and something unspoken filled the air. No one stopped her. They never did.
She entered his cabin.
"Sit," he said, without looking up.
"It's okay," Leena replied, remaining standing.
He slid a package across the table. It was sealed tight, heavier than it looked. She didn't touch it yet.
"I need a man to help me with this," she said calmly.
He finally looked at her. "Don't process them. It's dangerous."
She smiled faintly. "Supplying to the party is more dangerous when it's quiet and noticeable. People like it that way."
His jaw tightened. "You steal from me now? You want me to change my terms?"
"I never steal," she said, voice steady. "I just make things more profitable. And I take my profit from that. I've never touched your money."
"If you ever try," he warned, "you know the consequences."
"Interference," she cut in smoothly. "I work better alone than your men. They're addicts. They're your weakness. And you do nothing because you don't pay them enough."
His eyes darkened.
"I won't let my work waste under your stupid rules, Uncle. Easy, kid—you're safe only because you live under my shadow. You don't know what happens if you try to betray me—"
"I know," Leena interrupted softly.
Silence fell between them.
"I know what happened last time," she continued. "And it will never happen again. Not this time."
She finally picked up the package.
"I'll work for free," she said.
Not as a request. As a decision.
Her uncle leaned back, studying her—this girl who looked calm, smiling, unafraid, while standing in the middle of danger like it was home.
Her uncle watched her for a long second, then said only one thing:
"Leave."
Leena didn't argue.She took the package and walked out.
Leena left her uncle's place alone.
The smile stayed on her face until the glass doors closed behind her.
Then it faded—slowly, like it had never truly belonged to her.
At a corner shop, she stopped.
Yellow and white tulips.
She didn't think much while buying them. Her hands moved on instinct, like they already knew who they were for. The florist wrapped them neatly, asked nothing. Neither did Leena.
She didn't call a cab this time.
She walked until the hospital lights came into view—white, cold, distant.
Inside, the smell of disinfectant hit her immediately.
She stopped at the reception desk.
"Which room is Richie in?" she asked.
The receptionist looked up. "Only family members are allowed in the VIP ward."
Leena didn't blink. "I'm a friend."
A pause. A measuring look.
"I'll check," the receptionist said, then disappeared behind a glass door.
When she returned, she nodded. "Room 712."
Leena thanked her and walked away, the flowers held tightly against her chest.
Each step toward the VIP ward felt heavier than the last.
Outside the room, she stopped.
Closed her eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Then she went in.
The room was quiet—too quiet.
Machines hummed softly, keeping time where a human body no longer could.
Richie lay on the bed, unmoving.
Tubes ran into his arm.
A mask covered half his face.
One side of his body lay unnaturally still.
Drug overdose.
Too much. Too late.
Not dead.
Not alive either.
Leena placed the yellow and white tulips on the side table, arranging them carefully—like they mattered. Like he still did.
She sat on the chair beside him.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then, softly—
"I'm glad you're alive."
Her voice didn't shake.
Yet.
"Things are… clearer for me now," she continued. "I know what I want from my life."
She looked at his face. His eyes were open—but empty. A faint flicker of awareness trapped behind paralysis.
"You did this," she said quietly.
"Not what you did to me—what you turned me into."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the bed.
"You made me realize something," she whispered.
"That I'm capable of more than I ever imagined."
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
"You motivated me," Leena said, almost bitterly.
"You broke something in me… and in doing that, you showed me how dangerous I can be."
She leaned closer.
"You deserved what happened to you," she said—not loudly, not angrily. Just truthfully.
"And now… you can't even move. You can't stop me. You can't undo anything."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I got my revenge," she murmured.
"And you didn't even know when it happened."
She stood up.
Smoothed her jacket.
Her eyes flicked once to the flowers.
"For what it's worth," Leena added, "thank you."
She didn't wait for a response.
There wouldn't be one.
Leena walked out of the room lighter—and darker—than when she had entered.
For the first time, she wasn't running anymore.
She was choosing.