The medical camp was bustling with activity. A long queue of people waited eagerly, seeking relief from their ailments. Dr. Sanjana, along with her team of assistants, worked tirelessly—assessing patients, providing medical advice, prescribing diets, and educating them about hygiene. To some, she handed pre-prepared medicines; to others, she instructed her assistants to prepare instant remedies. And for a few, she took out the herbs she had gathered along the way, demonstrating their uses and teaching them where to find them.

  She mingled seamlessly with the people, her demeanor shifting as needed. To those who required care, she offered gentle compassion. To those who needed discipline, her tone sharpened, infused with a firm resolve. When necessary, she scolded people for their harmful habits, her words laced with a stern warning that sometimes even instilled fear. Yet, she also provided hope, lightening the mood with occasional gossip to better understand the people's lives and struggles.

  As she observed, she realized something unsettling—despite being in the suburbs, where she expected to see numerous children, the number was surprisingly low. Was it due to the influence of higher-class trends? Or was it simply the nature of the Solar Kingdom’s people, many of whom remained single, focusing solely on their careers? Even among married couples, the desire to prioritize work over raising children was evident. Combined with inadequate medical services, this trend had led to a drastic decline in birth rates.

  While she was lost in contemplation, she remained oblivious to two pairs of eyes watching her closely. One gaze held awe mixed with guilt. The other burned with fiery passion—an unspoken intensity beyond mere admiration.

  The owner of the former gaze decided to take action.

  As Sanjana was bent over, assessing an elderly woman, a rough, sun-kissed hand wearing a copper bracelet entered her field of vision, holding a tumbler of water. She blinked in mild surprise before looking up.

  Soori.

  “Take a break before you collapse, ma’am,” he said gruffly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic softness.

  Amusement flickered in Sanjana’s eyes as she accepted the tumbler with an arched brow. “Oh?” she mused, tilting her head. “You do have a kind side, after all.”

  Behind him, his gang had already begun distributing refreshments to the rest of her team. The sight made her lips curl into a small, genuine smile.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  At the same time, he muttered, “Sorry.”

  Their gazes locked, the words colliding in the air. Then, almost in sync, they looked away, a chuckle escaping them both. The atmosphere around them softened, the initial tension giving way to something warmer, more familiar.

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  She had already developed a quiet respect for Soori—the boy who observed everything with a sharp eye and had the courage to voice his thoughts. Though reckless and defiant, his willingness to make amends showed promise.

  To Soori, she had become an almost mythical figure—an idol he hadn’t realized he needed.

  But amidst this tranquil moment, an unseen heart clenched painfully.

  As if mirroring the turmoil within, the sun began its slow descent, the golden hues dimming further. The peaceful scene was shattered by the sound of hurried gallops.

  A man on horseback rushed toward them, shouting, “Soori! Hurry back home—Sis Aavya is in labor!”

  Soori’s face paled. “What? When?”

  “Just five minutes before I set off!” the young man exclaimed as he dismounted.

  Sanjana immediately stepped forward. “How far is she?”

  The man hesitated, casting a quick glance at Soori, as if unsure whether to answer. Soori, still shaken, took a breath before introducing her. “She’s a doctor. She came here to help.”

  With that, the man quickly responded, “About an hour’s ride from here.”

  Sanjana frowned. “That’s too long. We don’t have time to find another carriage at this hour. Take ours. I’ll come along in case of an emergency. Sometimes, labor pains can be false alarms. If we act fast, we might reach before the real contractions begin.”

  The man scratched the back of his head. “Sister Aavya lives in the nearby village, but we have to cross a small mountain. The path is too narrow for a carriage.”

  Sanjana’s stomach dropped. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Then what do we do? A woman in labor riding a horse for an hour is not an option!”

  Soori clenched his jaw, looking helpless for the first time. Just as a tense silence settled over them, a deep, commanding voice cut through the air.

  “I can help.”

  The sheer authority in those three words made every head turn.

  Sanjana followed their gazes and froze.

  A man—taller than Soori by at least a foot—stood before them. His sharp, chiseled features were accentuated by the dying sunlight, his presence almost too striking to be real. His eyes, razor-sharp and piercing, seemed to dissect everything in sight.

  He wore a white, collarless half-sleeved shirt, fastened only at the center by a simple brown thread. The upper portion hung loose, revealing a half-glowing chest that reminded her of the copper fort of the Sun Kingdom itself. His broad, muscular frame radiated raw strength, exuding an effortless dominance that demanded obedience.

  “We have seven horses,” he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Two riders per horse. Doctor and her assistants make five. The extra two horses can carry medical supplies. You can ride with a friend. Let’s not waste time.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a decree.

  For a moment, everyone stood in stunned silence before his men sprang into action. It wasn’t until then that Sanjana snapped back to reality.

  Wait. Two people per horse?

  She turned to her assistants, all of whom shook their heads vigorously. None of them knew how to ride.

  What now?

  Before she could think, a strong, calloused hand stretched toward her.

  “Let me help you,” the deep voice murmured.

  Her gaze shot up, meeting the man’s penetrating eyes. Her breath hitched.

  For the first time in her life, she felt shy.

  She had seen handsome men before—Sam, Ishaan, Soori, even Kavin lying unconscious. But this man… he was different. He wasn’t just attractive; he was overwhelmingly male. A living embodiment of strength and power.

  The thought of sitting so close to him for an entire hour made her heart race uncomfortably.

  Get a grip, Sanjana!

  Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced herself to move, hesitantly placing her hand in his.

  Effortlessly, he lifted her.

  For a moment, she felt as if she were floating—weightless in the air. The sensation sent an unfamiliar rush through her.

  As she settled onto the horse, two firm hands gripped her shoulders. His voice, deep yet surprisingly gentle, brushed against her ear.

  “Are you alright? Comfortable?”

  She swallowed. Words failed her. She merely nodded.

  The warmth of his hands lingered a moment longer before he withdrew. “We’re leaving now,” he announced. “If you feel unsteady, lean on me.”

  Lean on him?

  Oh, dear.

  Sanjana took a shaky breath. “Okay,” she managed.

  As the horses surged forward, she clutched the reins tightly, trying to ignore the strong, steady presence behind her.

  The journey had begun.

  And so had something else—something far more dangerous than the road ahead.