Om had been waiting at the airport for almost half an hour now.
There was still no sign of his uncle's flight.
Just then, an announcement echoed through the airport speakers—
Another flight had just landed.
Om glanced up… and realized—
Manoj uncle's flight would take at least another fifteen minutes.
Letting out a quiet breath, he decided to grab a coffee.
A few moments later…
Om was walking back, holding a hot cup in his hand.
His mind was elsewhere—
Lost in thoughts…
Memories…
And maybe… a strange uneasiness he couldn't explain.
And then—
Bang.
He collided straight into someone.
The cup slipped.
Hot coffee spilled all over the man's clothes.
The man stood there—
Dressed in sharp formal wear, covered with a long coat.
A brown round hat sat on his head…
And dark glasses hid his eyes.
But behind that calm appearance—
Was someone far from ordinary.
That man…
Was none other than Don Bali.
He had come here for business—
To meet Singhania.
But right now—
His focus was somewhere else entirely.
The moment the burning coffee hit his fresh suit—
A sharp pain shot through his chest.
His expression twisted instantly.
And the next second—
He exploded.
"Ahh! Are you blind or what?! Can't you see where you're going?!"
His voice was loud…
Harsh enough to make a few people nearby turn and look.
Om, however… remained calm.
He immediately stepped forward and said politely,
"I'm really sorry, sir. It was my mistake… I wasn't paying attention."
But if Bali was the kind to let things go easily—
He wouldn't be Bali.
Without a second thought—
He grabbed Om by the collar.
Hard.
Pulling him closer.
His grip tightened like iron.
"Listen, kid," he growled, his voice low but dangerous,
"If I didn't have somewhere to be… and if I had met you anywhere else…"
His eyes burned behind those dark glasses.
"You'd be dead by now. A hundred times over."
Om frowned slightly.
Not out of fear—
But confusion.
Accidents like this…
They happened all the time in crowded places like airports.
But the man in front of him—
Was taking it way too personally.
Still…
Om didn't want any trouble.
Not here.
Not today.
So he kept his voice calm and respectful.
"Sir, I truly apologize. It was just an accident. If you want, I can buy you a new set of clothes from the shopping area… just please calm down."
But Bali's anger had already taken over.
And something else…
Something strange.
The heat from that coffee—
It wasn't fading.
It was still burning his chest.
Even after all this time.
The pain kept growing…
And with it—
His grip tightened even more around Om's collar.
Because Bali wasn't normal.
There was something inside him.
Something powerful.
Something dangerous.
Ever since Mahishasura's influence—
His strength had become unnatural.
When Bali grabbed something—
He didn't let go.
Not until it was broken…
Destroyed.
Escaping his grip?
That was almost impossible.
But then—
Something happened.
Something that had never happened before.
Bali's eyes widened.
For the first time—
Shock replaced anger.
Because right in front of him—
Om calmly… effortlessly…
broke free.
No struggle.
No force.
Just one simple movement—
And Bali's iron grip was gone.
For a moment—
Time froze.
Bali stood there…
Staring at his own hand.
Then at Om.
His mind refused to accept what just happened.
Impossible.
No one had ever broken his grip before.
Not once.
And yet—
This boy…
This ordinary-looking boy…
Had done it like it was nothing.
Before Bali could react—
His phone rang.
The sharp sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
He pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen…
And then looked back at Om.
This time—
There was something different in his voice.
Still dangerous…
But colder.
Controlled.
"Lucky you, kid," he said slowly.
"You survived today."
He stepped back.
"But don't ever cross my path again."
A pause.
"Next time… your luck might not save you."
Om stood there, confused.
He didn't even know who this man was—
Yet the way he spoke…
It felt like they were enemies.
Old ones.
But before Om could say anything—
Bali turned…
And walked away.
Without looking back.
Om exhaled softly.
Shaking his head, he bent down, picked up the empty coffee cup…
And threw it into the dustbin.
"Strange guy…" he muttered under his breath.
And just like that—
He let it go.
Returning to what mattered.
Waiting.
For his uncle.
Meanwhile—
Outside the airport…
Bali stepped into a car.
One of Singhania's men was waiting for him.
The car started moving.
But Bali wasn't present there.
Not really.
His mind…
Was still stuck on that moment.
The grip.
His grip.
Breaking.
He leaned back…
Muttering to himself,
"What the hell was that…?"
His brows furrowed.
"A kid… broke my grip? That's never happened before."
His voice dropped lower.
"When I grab something… it's like holding it with the strength of a mountain."
His jaw clenched.
"Breaking my grip… is like breaking a mountain."
He stared ahead, lost in thought.
"How can a 20–22-year-old kid do that so easily?"
A pause.
"Was it just my imagination…? Maybe I wasn't focused… or maybe the pain distracted me…"
He shook his head slowly.
"Yeah… that has to be it."
Because the alternative—
Was something he wasn't ready to accept.
"That kind of strength… in an ordinary kid?"
He scoffed quietly.
"Impossible."
And so—
On one side—
Bali was lost in thoughts about Om.
Trying to make sense of something that made no sense.
And on the other—
Om stood at the airport…
Looking toward the entrance…
Still waiting.
Still unaware.
He checked the time again…
And muttered under his breath—
"Man… when is this flight going to arrive?"