Chapter 5: Passwords, Promises, and the Point of No Return
Narrated by Aanya Kapoor
There's a very specific kind of rage you experience when betrayal comes gift-wrapped in dimples and homemade kulchas.
It's the kind of rage that makes you open your laptop at 2:00 AM, in your oldest pajamas, hair in a tragic bun, and heart pounding like a trapped animal.
Simba sensed the storm. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at me like he was disappointed but not surprised.
"Don't look at me like that," I muttered.
He blinked. Judgmental little furball.
---
The screenshot from the anonymous email was still open on my desktop.
Private GitHub repo: Nudge 2.0 - Backup.
Password protected.
Which meant... two things:
1. Rohan had something hidden.
2. Someone wanted me to see it.
I knew better than to try hacking into it. (Mostly because the last time I'd tried hacking into an old ex's Netflix account, I got locked out and somehow subscribed to an anime streaming site.)
But the trust?
The fragile, stupid, glimmering trust I had started building with Rohan?
Cracked.
Fractured.
Hanging by a thread.
---
At exactly 9:00 AM, my phone buzzed.
Rohan: "Can we talk?"
Not a gif. Not a flirty meme.
A full sentence. Punctuation and everything.
This wasn't him being cute anymore.
This was serious.
I stared at the text. For three whole minutes. Then finally, my fingers moved.
Me: "Coffee. Noon. The place with the bad lattes and worse lighting. Neutral territory."
Rohan: "I'll be there."
No heart emoji.
No sandwich pun.
Just silence.
The kind that says:
This isn't just about kulchas anymore.
---
12:00 PM sharp.
I walked into Cafe Brewtality, a place that prided itself on serving coffee so bitter it could file HR complaints.
Rohan was already there.
Black t-shirt. Jeans. A nervous bounce in his knee.
He stood when he saw me. "Hey."
"Sit," I said sharply, sliding into the booth.
No small talk. No pleasantries.
Just truth.
Or lies.
Depending.
---
"I got another email," I said, pulling up the screenshot.
His eyes darkened.
"I saw this," I continued. "I know you have a private backup called 'Nudge 2.0.' Password locked."
He exhaled, leaning back. "I can explain."
"You better."
He stared at the table for a moment, as if gathering words like spilled sugar.
"I built Clarity," he began. "Three years ago. But we ran out of funding before launch. Investors pulled out. Legal issues piled up. I shelved it. Gave up."
"And Nudge?" I asked.
"When I heard about your app," he said, voice low, "I was furious at myself. For quitting. For not pushing harder. And then... I saw you."
He looked up.
"You weren't just building an app, Aanya. You were building hope. The thing I lost."
I swallowed hard.
He continued. "The GitHub repo? It's not what you think. It's not your code. It's my old Clarity backups. I renamed it when I thought about resurrecting it. About maybe... blending the two ideas someday. But I never touched your work. Never planned to steal anything."
"Then why hide it?"
"Because," he said quietly, "I didn't want you to think I was chasing you for a second chance at a company. I was chasing you."
Silence.
Heavy.
Sticky.
Breath-stealing.
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But belief doesn't come easy when you've been ghosted, doubted, discarded.
I stared at him.
At the boy with dimples and dreams and a repo full of what-ifs.
And I asked, "Then prove it."
He leaned in. "How?"
I slid my laptop across the table.
"Open it," I said. "Right now. Show me what's inside."
His jaw tightened.
He hesitated.
For three long, agonizing seconds.
Then—
He pulled the laptop toward him.
Typed the password.
Clicked enter.
And there it was:
Old codebases labeled Clarity_Alpha and Clarity_Beta.
UI mockups from 2019.
Feedback logs dated before Nudge was even a doodle in my notebook.
Nothing stolen.
Nothing copied.
Just a graveyard of good ideas.
My chest loosened. A knot I hadn't realized was choking me unraveled.
"I wasn't lying," he said softly.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
And realized—
He wasn't just telling the truth.
He was handing me a piece of his past.
Trusting me to not break it.
---
We sat there for a while, sipping terrible coffee, breathing in a new kind of silence.
Finally, he asked, "Who sent you those emails?"
I shrugged. "No idea. But whoever it is… they know too much."
"Someone trying to drive a wedge?"
"Seems like it."
He frowned. "Competitor?"
"Maybe. Or someone from my past who thinks I don't deserve a win."
His eyes hardened. "Whoever it is, they don't get to ruin this."
"This?"
He smiled, small and real. "Us."
I blinked.
Us.
The word hung between us like a live wire.
Dangerous.
Exciting.
Real.
Maybe too real.
---
As we walked out of the cafe, side by side but not touching, I felt it—
The shift.
The silent agreement.
If we crossed this line…
If we chose us…
There would be no going back.
Not just flirty texts.
Not just accidental dinners.
Not just delivery mistakes.
This would be messy.
Complicated.
Risky.
And maybe…
Maybe it would be everything.
---
Teaser for Chapter 6:
A late-night call.
A secret from Rohan's past surfaces.
And Aanya must decide:
Protect her heart… or risk it all.
---