"To be or not to be, life has to go on like it goes on with each passing moment."
Nafisa stood at a standstill, waiting for her new friend's arrival.
Garbett stepped out of his car and strolled toward her. Pointing to her wristwatch, Nafisa gave him a mock-stern look. Garbett dramatically held his ears in apology, breaking into a grin that Nafisa couldn't help but return.
Garbett grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the hotel entrance. Nafisa playfully jerked her wrist free.
"Excuse me, mister. What kind of behavior is this?"
Garbett smiled, keeping his voice low. "Play along. If we don't act like this, people will start suspecting us. Vikram's spies are probably watching our every move."
Nafisa grabbed his collar, pulling him in close. "Then let's do it properly."
She pressed her lips against his, pulling him into a passionate kiss. After a lingering moment, Garbett gently pushed her back. "I think that's enough of a show for now."
"There's never enough with me," Nafisa murmured, seductively biting his earlobe before stepping away.
Garbett watched her, letting out a soft chuckle.
Nafisa glanced back over her shoulder, biting the corner of her lip. "I'm waiting, dear."
Taking the hint, Garbett followed her inside.
Nafisa stood at the door. Garbett stopped near her as she leaned in, pretending to whisper something in his ear, prompting a coy smile from him. She pulled him inside and clicked the door shut, cutting off the muffled noise of the hotel corridor.
Instantly, the atmosphere shifted from theatrical romance to dead silence. They looked at each other—no heat, no love, just cold calculation.
Nafisa unbuttoned her top, her grey bra flashing beneath the soft golden lighting of the suite. She glanced back at Garbett. "Would you be polite enough to turn around?"
Garbett smiled, turning his back. "Was that kiss really necessary? I know you watch a lot of Hindi movies, but in real life, no couple kisses that shamelessly in public."
Nafisa grunted. "Hindi movies? Do you have any idea how much kissing happens in English movies? And yes, it was necessary. Vikram isn't employing spies from London; he's hiring locals. And for your information, those nosy morons watch Hindi movies."
Garbett rolled his eyes. "Fine. But nothing is happening here."
"Oh, clearly," Nafisa scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just craving your body, Garbett."
Garbett waved a hand dismissively. "Enough drama. Let's talk business. Masud is still in our captivity, and his father isn't showing a shred of concern. What's the plan?"
Nafisa poured two fingers of whiskey and opened the ice bucket. "They serve heart-shaped ice. Hilarious." She tossed a cube toward Garbett's head. "As for Masud—he's a guest. We aren't butchers, Garbett. We're not mailing his organs to his father like some cheap crime thriller. The father is a crackhead, but why should Masud suffer for that?"
Garbett jumped onto his side of the bed. "Are you actually developing feelings for Masud?"
Nafisa playfully chucked another frozen heart at him. Garbett raised a pillow as a shield.
"It's fine, I won't judge," Garbett teased. "The guy's handsome, to begin with."
Nafisa rolled her eyes. "Oh, please—typical chauvinistic mindset. A woman either has to love a man madly or hate him madly. We're allowed to have neutral feelings, you know."
Garbett narrowed his eyes, studying her face. "I don't see neutral feelings in you. There's just an emptiness."
Nafisa turned away, her tone sharpening. "Don't look at me like that. It's creepy."
Garbett pulled a glass of whiskey toward himself, letting the moment settle. "Jokes aside, what's your call on the Masud situation?"
Nafisa let out a heavy sigh. "Tell Dempsey to hold off a bit longer. No matter how cold Farooque acts toward his son, no father wants to see his own boy die a pitiful death."
Garbett frowned. "Talking to Dempsey has gotten harder lately. The man lives in his own world."
Nafisa smirked. "Classic Napoleon Complex."
Garbett offered a knowing smile and raised his glass.
At the far end of the lavish suite's long hallway stood a man clad in a heavy overcoat, a mask covering his face, dark glasses concealing his obsidian gaze. He licked the corners of his lips, letting out rhythmic clicking noises.
"No. That couldn't be Nafisa. My eyes are playing tricks on me. Her, in India? And with a stranger? Kissing and laughing like a whore? No... not her."
In truth, Vikram had never assigned spies to watch Nafisa and Garbett; he cared little for their movements, consumed by far greater concerns. But Vikram was not the only shark in this vast ocean of enemies. There was another—an old nemesis waiting in the shadows for blood.
Ganesh.
Years ago, Nafisa had executed his closest companion on Vikram's orders. Ever since that night, Ganesh had thirsted for her life.
He had been occupied with his usual vices when the sharp click of heels and the soft, breathless giggles of a running woman had caught his attention. She looked impossibly like Nafisa—a ghost that had taken root in his mind ever since. He couldn't even focus on his work; perhaps his appetite for vengeance had finally eclipsed his appetite for cruelty.
Whatever the reason, Ganesh was fuming.
He stared at the brass door handle and the small card hanging from it: DO NOT DISTURB.
Should I, or shouldn't I?
Interrupting a foreigner enjoying his private time was unwise. Hell, it wasn't wise with a local either.
Ganesh turned away, his heavy boots echoing off the walls as he marched down the corridor, fists clenched.
"I'll be back," he muttered under his breath, his pulse racing with dark anticipation. "I'm not letting this slide."
Nafisa sat quietly by the window frame, watching the tail lights of moving vehicles. She was so engrossed that even the burn on her hand went unfelt. Only when her skin began to scorch did her senses return. She threw away the ash, only to light another. She had already burned through three packs.
The room looked more like a dense forest in early morning winter than the silent cacophony of her troubling thoughts. She blew smoke into smoke, her eyes slowly starting to drip.
One, two, three, four... sheep were jumping the fence, but she couldn't. Dancing to a melody of sadness, heavy with the jazz of silent pain, left her soul paralyzed. Like any fragile creature of flesh and bone, she decided to let the mortal separate from the immortal.
But life had other plans.
A knight emerged, slicing through the suffocating curtain of smoke. His firm palm caught Nafisa's cheek so sharply that even the Grim Reaper backed off.
"Have you lost your goddamn mind, you stupid girl?!" Garbett's voice echoed around the room like a command.
He scooped her into his arms and rushed downstairs. A few quick shouts, a barking dog in the alley, and a car was flagged down to rush them to the hospital.
Nafisa was wheeled past the doors of the operating theater while the doctors got to work. Behind the glass, Garbett remained a silent viewer.
Garbett sat like a statue in the waiting room until the creak of rusty doors broke his trance. He rushed toward the doctor, clasping his hands tightly.
"Is she okay? Can I see her?"
The doctor gave a slight shake of his head and signaled for a nurse to lead him inside.
Nafisa lay motionless on the narrow bed, her face pale. She darted a weak glance at Garbett before turning her face toward the wall.
"Turning your eyes away won't subside my rage!" Garbett barked, his voice tight with raw adrenaline. "What were you thinking? When we're this close to success? To redemption? You were going to abandon me halfway?"
"It doesn't matter," Nafisa murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "It's always the same cycle. We eventually wind up right back where we started. I just wanted to free myself from this excruciating wheel of pain."
Garbett sank into the chair beside her, gently taking her cold hand in his. "But why? Like a coward... ending your life when things have finally started to get better. Why are you so depressed?"
Nafisa offered a faint, hollow smile. "Not depressed. Just exhausted. First it was my parents, then Vikram... and soon it will be you. I've been running from people my whole life, Garbett. I'm just tired. My legs can't run anymore. I just want to lie down and rest."
Garbett pulled her closer, his voice breaking. "No. Not now. Not ever. Promise me you won't do this again. I'll kill myself if anything happens to you."
Tears leaked from his eyes, and Nafisa weakly raised a frail hand to wipe them away. Garbett took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Nafisa closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the warm, desperate embrace.
"Is this really what you want?" a familiar voice echoed.
Nafisa snapped her eyes open.
The warmth dissolved into freezing darkness. Her wrists were bound in heavy iron chains. Beside her on the cold floor lay Garbett, silent and soaked in blood.
Slow, heavy applause echoed through the room.
Out of the shadows stepped Vikram, a dark, wicked smile playing on his lips. "Such a wonderful turn of events, isn't it, my dear?"
Nafisa screamed, thrashing wildly against the metal links pulling at her skin. "What have you done, you monster?! Why can't you just let me be happy—for once in my life?!"
Vikram rolled his eyes with exaggerated disgust. "On the contrary, I'm the only reason you've had any happiness in your pathetic little life. Remember: I was the one who pulled you back from the train tracks! I'M THE REASON YOU EVEN EXIST TODAY! But did I ever demand repayment?" He tilted his head, his tone dripping with mock nobility. "The answer is never!"
Nafisa let out a harsh, sarcastic chuckle through her tears. "You're the worst thing to ever happen to me. Repayment? You made my entire existence a living hell! You squeezed out every drop of joy I had and discarded me like garbage. You're an abomination."
Vikram's smile never flickered. "Fine. If I've made your life such a 'living hell,' why don't I go ahead and release you from it?"
He reached under his heavy leather jacket and pulled out a sleek silver handgun.
Nafisa stared straight down the barrel, her lips curving into a tired smile. "You'd be doing me a favor."
"At least for once you show some gratitude," Vikram purred. "Such a shame it's your last."
He pulled the trigger.
Click. Blank.
Nafisa woke with a sharp jolt, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead. She wiped it away with trembling hands and looked frantically around the room, finally finding a measure of peace when her eyes landed on Garbett, sound asleep on the sofa, breathing deeply like a child.
Slipping quietly out of bed, she hurried to the washroom and splashed handfuls of cold water over her face, desperate to wash away the phantom memory of Vikram's voice.
Was it just a stupid nightmare, or a premonition? she muttered to herself in the mirror.
When she stepped back outside, she found Garbett stretching his arms, blinking groggily against the dawn light.
"Did you have a rough night?" Garbett asked, stifling a yawn.
Nafisa tossed her damp hand towel right into his face. "What? How do you even know that?"
Garbett caught the towel, grinning as he settled his head back onto the cushion. "You were mumbling and thrashing all night. Talked in your sleep half the time."
Nafisa waved a hand dismissively. "It was nothing. Just a stupid dream. Too many spooky old-wives' tales creeping into my head, I suppose."
Garbett yawned again, his eyes half-closed. "Must be... the Halloween wind."
Nafisa smiled faintly. "That's right. It's Halloween today. What are you dressing up as?"
A wicked grin spread across Garbett's face. "The dangerously devoted lover of a witch."
It took Nafisa a beat to process it, and then she snatched a decorative pillow and hurled it square at his chest. "You absolute rascal!"
Laughing, Garbett rolled over onto his side. "Wake me when you're ready..."
Nafisa glanced up at the wall clock. 5:06 AM. A bit too early for a proper run, but plenty of time to let both her body and her racing mind settle. She crawled back under the covers, but sleep, as usual, felt less like a necessity and more like an impossible luxury.....