Author POV
The night was drenched in darkness, Rain poured relentlessly, and thunder rolled across the sky, with flashes of lightning cutting through the gloom, their flashes illuminating the ominous clouds. Each flicker of lightning seemed to whisper an unspoken warning that something terrible was about to happen—someone was destined to meet their end tonight.
Far from the bustling city lights, in a lonely and abandoned area, stood an old, crumbling house. Inside, the silence was heavy, broken only by the faint sound of water dripping from a crack in the ceiling—a slow, steady rhythm that felt like it was counting down to something.
Something, or someone, was here. And they weren’t alone.
In the middle of the vast, hollow space, a girl sat tied to a chair. Her wrists were bound tightly with coarse rope, the rough fibers cutting into her skin, leaving angry red marks. Strands of her hair clung to her tear-streaked face, her body trembling—not from the chill of the storm, but from the icy terror gripping her heart.
Her wide, terrified eyes were fixed on the figure standing before her.
And the man is none other than Nirved Singhania.
He stood still, the dim light playing across his face, accentuating the sharp edges of his features. His eyes, cold and unyielding, bore into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.
"Please..." she whispered, her voice cracking, barely audible over the storm outside. "Let me go...."
He tilted his head slightly, as though considering her plea, but his expression remained unreadable. Her words had no effect on him. He held a gun in his hand.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the dirt smeared on her face. She shook her head frantically, the chair scraping against the floor as she tried to inch away from him. "I-I'm..so-sorry" she stammered, her voice trembling. "Please forgive me!"
Nirved let out a low, humorless chuckle, the sound echoing ominously in the empty room. His cold eyes never left her trembling form as he slowly stepped closer, his every move deliberate, exuding a chilling dominance.
“Forgiveness?” he repeated, his voice a dangerously soft murmur that sliced through the tension like a knife. He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it held no warmth. “It’s such an overrated virtue, don’t you think?”
“People like you always beg when the tables turn, thinking a few pitiful words will erase your sins. But you see...”
He straightened, his tall frame towering over her as his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, “I’m not a priest. I don’t deal in redemption. I deal in retribution.”
Her lips quivered as she stammered, “I-I’m sorry Nirved... just please don’t—”
The rest of her plea was silenced by the deafening sound of a gunshot. His aim was precise, the bullet piercing the space between her eyes. Her lifeless body fell backward onto the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Nirved lowered the gun with a cold expression, unfazed by the scene before him. “Clean this mess, Raghav,” he ordered, his voice as sharp and chilling.
“Yes, sir,” Raghav responded promptly, already moving to follow the command.
Without another glance at the corpse, Nirved walked out of the house, his shoes crunching against the gravel as the rain began to pour once more.
As he stepped outside, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his eyes scanning the message. A dark, devilish smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
Next day,
Hruta's POV
I clutched my bag close and walked briskly, eager to reach the safety of home. But the further I walked, the heavier the feeling of unease grew in my chest. It felt like someone was watching me, their gaze heavy on my back.
I glanced over my shoulder, my breath hitching when I spotted a familiar figure.
“Rohit?” I said, stopping in my tracks.
There he was, hands shoved into his pockets, a strange look in his eyes as he met my gaze.
Rohit—the infamous playboy of my college. We’d been in the same college for years, but I’d always maintained my distance. His reputation preceded him, and I’d never trusted his intentions.
“Hey, Hruta,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice wary.
“I was passing by and saw you,” he said, stepping closer. “Thought I’d walk you home.”
I forced a polite smile, but my instincts screamed at me to keep my distance. Something about his demeanor was off. “You didn’t need to. I’m fine walking alone.”
“Come on, Hruta,” he said, his tone light but carrying an edge. “what’s the harm in letting me be here for you for once?”
I frowned, taking a step back as he closed the distance between us. “Rohit, is there something you want to say? If not, I really need to get going.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Something I want to say? Hruta, I’ve been trying to say it for months. Why don’t you ever listen? Why don’t you see me the way I see you?”
I stared at him, confused but wary. This wasn’t the first time he’d expressed his so-called feelings for me, but his persistence wasn’t endearing—it was unnerving. I knew better than to trust his words. He’d proposed to me once, and when I’d refused, his bruised ego had turned his infatuation into an obsession. Despite his claims of wanting friendship, I’d seen through the facade.
“Rohit, we’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been—”
“Friends?” he snapped, his tone bitter. “Is that all I am to you? A friend? After everything I’ve done, after all the times I’ve been there for you, you can’t even consider me as something more?”
My stomach churned uneasily. His words were more of an accusation than a confession.
“Rohit, I’ve never given you any reason to think there could be something more between us,” I said firmly, my chest tightening. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again—I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry, but—”
“Don’t say that!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you. I love you, Hruta. I’ve loved you for so long, and you... you don’t even care, do you?”
“Rohit, please stop,” I said, my voice trembling as I took another step back. “I don’t feel that way about you. I can’t. I’m sorry, but you need to understand that.”
But he didn’t stop. Instead, his face twisted with frustration and desperation. “You don’t get to just dismiss me like that,” he said through gritted teeth.
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm, his grip strong and unyielding. “You can’t just walk away from me, Hruta,” he said.
“Let go, Rohit!” I cried, struggling against his grip.
“No, Hruta,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t get to walk away from me. Not this time.”
Before I could react, he leaned in, his grip tightening as he tried to press his lips to mine.
A surge of anger and fear coursed through me, and without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.
The sharp sound echoed in the still evening, and he froze, his cheek reddening. But instead of backing away, his expression twisted with rage.
“How dare you!” he hissed, his voice filled with venom.
Before I could react, he suddenly pushed me so hard that I stumbled on my foot and suddenly, I was falling—into the dark, cold water of a nearby lake.
The icy shock stole my breath as I sank, water rushing around me. I kicked and flailed, but I couldn’t find the surface. Panic gripped me as I realized I was drowning—I didn’t know how to swim.
“Help!” I tried to scream, but water rushed into my mouth, cutting off my voice.
Through the blur of water, I caught sight of him standing and smirking. For a fleeting moment, I thought he might save me. But to my horror, he simply turned and walked away, leaving me to fight for my life.
The world around me started to fade, as my lungs screamed for air. Darkness crept in, and just when I was ready to surrender, strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me upward.
Cold air hit my face as I was dragged to the surface. I coughed violently, gasping for breath, my body trembling uncontrollably. I clung to the person who had saved me, my grip weak but desperate.
Once we reached the shore, I collapsed onto the ground, coughing and choking. My vision was blurred from the water, but I forced myself to look up at my savior.
Our eyes met briefly, but his face remained unclear—shrouded by the darkness of the night or perhaps by the haze clouding my sight.
Before I could process anything further, I felt his hand gently stroke my back, calming my ragged breathing.
“You’re safe, babygirl,” he whispered softly into my ear, his voice deep and reassuring.
The warmth of his words was the last thing I felt before my vision faded completely, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I shot up straight, my heart ponding, gasping for air. My skin was drenched in sweat, and my breathing came in ragged, uneven bursts. I clutched the sheets tightly, trying to ground myself.
It wasn’t just a nightmare—it was a memory.
A memory that haunted me every night for the past months. That happened months ago, but the memory is still fresh in my mind.
I glanced around the room. The soft glow of sunlight illuminated the familiar surroundings of my bedroom.
It was safe here. I was safe here.
But my trembling body didn’t believe it.
The suffocating cold of the water, the helplessness as I struggled to breathe—it all felt so real, as if I were drowning all over again.
My fingers unconsciously brushed my neck, remembering the strong arms that had pulled me out of the abyss.
My shadow.
The man who had saved me that night without a word, vanishing just as quickly as he’d appeared.
I leaned back against the headboard, drawing my knees to my chest. The fear and vulnerability from that night still lingered, even after all this time.
Rohit had left me to die.
And yet, someone else—a stranger cloaked in mystery—had saved me, risking his life for mine.
Who was he? Why had he been there that night? And why did his voice, his presence, feel so familiar, so… safe?
All these questions swirl in my mind, but they’re useless because I have no answers.
Every now and then, I feel it—that sense of being watched, as though someone is always observing my every move.
Strangely, I don’t feel scared. The shadow following me doesn’t terrify me; it feels like a shield, a silent protector.
That night, I saw him.
He was so close, yet his face remained hidden.
When I woke up, I was back in my room as if none of it had happened.
And it all happened because of that bastard Rohit.
I clench my fists, wanting to break his teeth, chop the hand he dared to push me with.
Aahhhaaa. Forget it.
I don’t even want to see his face again.
Getting up from my bed, I made my way downstairs. Papa was sitting on the couch, watching TV.
I walked over to him.
"Good morning, Papa," I greeted him, rubbing my eyes sleepily.
When he saw me, a warm smile spread across his face. Glancing at the clock, he replied, "Good afternoon, beta."
"Afterno—" I froze, glancing at the clock. It showed 12:00 p.m.
I slept that long? Why didn’t anyone wake me up?
"Uthlate madam?" came Mumma’s voice from the kitchen.
[Finally awake madam]
Uh-oh. She’s going to start her lecture now.
"Mumma, why didn’t you wake me up?" I complained
jab dekho tab aa jati hai jaldi uthane, aja kya hua
[Any other day, she’d be dragging me out of bed early. What happened today?]
"tuze lagta hai maine uthaya nhi, kumbhkaran ki bhen jo hai tu" she teased as she came into the living room.
["You think I didn’t try? You’re Kumbhkaran’s sister, after all,"]
Haha, very funny.
I rolled my eyes, and then it hit me.
"Ohhh, shit!" I yelled, jumping off the couch.
"ky jhale?" Papa asked, confused.
[What happened]
Devaa!
How could I forget?
Today’s the day we planned our girls’ day out—me and my best friends, Vishakha and Dhanshree.
We were supposed to meet at exactly 10:30, and now it’s 12:00!
I grabbed my phone, checking the screen. It showed 30 missed calls and 100+ messages from them.
They are going to kill me.
"Yaar, Mummyy!" I groaned in panic.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Mumma turned toward me, waving her ladle like a weapon of mass destruction. "don’t you dare blame me!"
I shut my mouth. No one wins against her when she’s in full swing.
Papa chuckled "Beta, even the sun gave up on waking you today," he teased
Before I could shoot back a witty reply, my phone buzzed in my hand. The name flashing on the screen made my stomach flip—Vishakha.
I gulped and answered cautiously, "Hello?"
"HELLO?" came Vishakha’s icy tone. "Are you alive, or do we need to send a search party to your house?"
"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" I blurted out, rushing toward the stairs. "Give me 20 minutes—I’ll be there, I promise!"
Before she could yell further, I quickly cut the call.
"Beta," Papa called out, the amusement clear in his voice, "if you’re planning to get ready in 20 minutes, you might need a miracle."
He wasn’t wrong. I did need a miracle.
I ran up the stairs two at a time, tripping over my own feet and nearly face-planting into the wall. Mumma’s laughter followed me as I dashed into my room.
I flew through my morning routine, grabbed my favorite jeans and a casual top, and threw my hair into a hasty ponytail. Within record time, I was dressed, phone in hand, slipping it into my pocket.
Okay, maybe it’s been a little more than 20 minutes.
As I dashed toward the door, Mummy called out, "Breakfast?"
"No time! Nahi toh aaj pitayi ho jayegi!" I yelled back, slipping on my shoes and dashing out of the house.
[Otherwise, today’s going to end with a beating!]
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