The room was dimly lit, with the hum of Anahata's core barely audible in the silence. Aarav held out a worn, black mobile phone.
"This… was my mother's," he said quietly.
Naira looked up at him, surprised.
"I'm giving it to you," he continued, placing it in her hands. "You'll need to stay in contact with me. Don't call anyone else. This number… it can be traced."
The weight of the phone settled into her palm like a whisper from the past. It wasn't just a communication device—it was memory, pain, and trust bundled into one.
"I'll be careful," she promised, clutching it close.
But there were other things that needed doing—food supplies, basic clothing, ingredients. Aarav had clearly been surviving on instant noodles and junk. Living like a ghost.
"But I can't go out like this," she pointed out.
"I know," Aarav said. He pulled out something from a drawer and handed it to her—a sleek, tech-integrated mask. "This will shift your facial structure temporarily.
Naira slid it on. "How do I look?"
"Like a suspicious weirdo," Anahata quipped in.
They left the hideout as a strange duo—one masked, one walking confidently beside her. Naira marveled at how casually Aarav handled money, finally realizing Anahata had helped him sort out funds, possibly stocks or crypto. And yet, he still lived as if he were broke—maybe out of habit, or maybe guilt.
They bought clothes, dry groceries, fresh vegetables, and a few things that made Naira feel more human again—lip balm, a hairbrush, a journal. It wasn't just survival anymore.
By nightfall, they were back home. The mood shifted. Aarav's tone grew serious.
"I have to go," he said. "After 10. I'll be near your old house, looking for clues."
Naira stood up immediately. "Then I'm coming too."
"No." He didn't raise his voice, but there was no space for debate.
"Why not?"
"It's not safe. Besides…" He hesitated, then smirked. "I have a workaround."
Anahata buzzed excitedly. "I've just completed syncing the phone with the Soul Connection network!"
"The what?" Naira blinked.
"Our new communication link," Anahata chirped. "Encrypted. Invisible. Secure. Between me, Aarav, and you. But there's a rule…"
Aarav rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Apparently we can't call each other by name while connected. It's too risky if someone ever intercepts audio."
"So what do we call each other?" Naira asked, raising an eyebrow.
Anahata cleared its throat dramatically. "Soulmate."
"What?" they both said at once.
"You're linked by a Soul Connection—duh!" the AI said with mock innocence. "If you want to change the codeword, file a request."
Naira chuckled. "Fine. You hear that, Soulmate?"
Aarav sighed. "This is so embarrassing."
He stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze brushing past his coat. His voice, low and firm, came through the connection.
"Alright, Soulmate. I'm heading out. Stay safe. Watch my back."
Naira sat back on the couch, eyes flickering as the synced feed came through. Aarav's vision became hers—his ears, hers too.
"I see what you see," she whispered.
"And I hear your voice," he replied, faintly smiling.
A beep from the system confirmed their bond. And with that, the long night began.