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As she walked toward her classroom, Isha felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. She had prepared for this moment, but the weight of her secret mission pressed heavily on her shoulders. She entered the lecture hall, greeted by the curious gazes of her students. They were a mix of eager freshmen and jaded seniors, all unaware of the extraordinary past that lay behind her calm demeanor.

“Good morning, everyone,” she began, her voice steady and clear. “I’m Professor Isha, and I’ll be your instructor for this semester’s English Literature course. We’ll be exploring various texts, themes, and the human experience through the lens of literature.”

As she spoke, she felt a strange sense of normalcy wash over her. Perhaps this was the life she had longed for—a chance to connect with people, to understand their stories, and to share her own. But in the back of her mind, the haunting image of Arva lingered. She had saved him, but at what cost? She had sensed something powerful within him, something that resonated with her own essence.

Meanwhile, back in the heart of the city, Arva was in his underground lair, surrounded by his most trusted men. The sleek black walls echoed with the tension in the air as he paced back and forth, his mind racing.

“Boss, we’ve been tracking her,” one of his men reported, his voice tense. “But she seems to have vanished. There are no leads on her whereabouts since she left the hospital.”

Arva’s jaw clenched. “She’s clever,” he muttered, his thoughts consumed by the woman who had saved him. “But I will find her. She’s not just a fleeting shadow in my life; she’s significant.”

Just then, his phone buzzed with a message. He glanced down to see a photo of a woman in a classroom surrounded by students. His heart raced as he recognized her immediately—there she was, Isha, standing confidently at the front of a lecture hall, her hair catching the light just as it had in the hospital.

“Track her down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to know everything about her—her schedule, her connections, everything. And when you find her, bring her to me.”

As he spoke, Isha was unaware of the storm brewing just beyond her campus walls. She was engrossed in her lesson, discussing the themes of identity and belonging in literature, unaware that Blackshadow was now a part of her narrative.

Later that evening, as she returned to her modest apartment, Isha felt a strange sense of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows. But the street was empty, the only sound of the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

She shook off the feeling and entered her apartment, the familiar scent of sandalwood filling her senses. She lit a few candles, hoping to create a calming atmosphere as she prepared to study. Her thoughts drifted back to Arva. What had he been thinking when she had saved him? Did he even remember her face?

Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was an email from the university confirming her schedule for the following week. But as she read through the details, a chill ran down her spine. Among the list of faculty events was a notice for a special guest lecture titled “The Dark Side of Power: A Study of Underworld Literature."”

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