!!Story Time!!
Justin P.O.V
The night had gone still — unnervingly so.
I'd dozed off on the couch, a book half-falling from my lap, and Radhika's shawl draped loosely over my shoulders. She must have left it behind before disappearing into the west wing.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't even sure why I'd woken up. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the sound of something distant… breaking.
Or maybe it was just the dream.
The same damn dream again.
A little girl running through a field, chased by shadows that had no feet, no form. A white butterfly fluttered past her ear and landed on her shoulder. She turned… and it wasn't her face. It was Radhika's.
But older. Broken. Angry.
And behind her — Dev's father, smiling.
I stood up abruptly, my breath catching.
This place had always made me uneasy.
I didn't say anything earlier, not when Dev invited us to stay, not when his father offered us vintage wine and good stories. It was too perfect. Too orchestrated.
And I know *choreography* when I see it.
---
I grabbed my phone. A missed message from Radhika.
> "Don't wake the others yet. Just trust me. We'll talk soon."
I stared at it for a long time. Trust her?
Always.
But that didn't mean I'd sit still.
I made my way out to the courtyard, needing space — needing to breathe. The stone beneath my bare feet was cold, but the night air helped clear my thoughts.
That's when I saw her.
Not Radhika.
Not Ishika.
A woman in a black coat, standing by the edge of the marble fountain, facing away from me.
For a split second, I thought I was dreaming again.
But then she turned.
Eyes cold. Familiar.
Like Radhika's, and yet… not.
Then she was gone.
Just vanished into the shadows.
I took a shaky breath.
My hand instinctively reached for the pistol holstered under my jacket, one I hadn't needed to use in years — but suddenly, it felt necessary again.
---
When I returned inside, the villa felt even more haunted.
Not by ghosts. But by secrets.
That's when **Dev** walked in, his shirt half-buttoned, looking pale.
"You saw her too, didn't you?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer at first.
Just nodded.
"I think we've all been sleeping next to a storm," he muttered. "And I think my father was part of it."
That made me stop cold.
"What do you mean was?"
Dev hesitated. "Radhika found something."
He glanced toward the hallway — the same wing Radhika had disappeared into earlier.
"She hasn't told me everything. But… she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Maybe she did."
I looked at him, trying to put pieces together in my mind.
"Or maybe," I said slowly, "we've just finally met the person who's been writing our story from the shadows."
---
Suddenly, the house alarm buzzed softly — a perimeter trigger.
Only those with access codes could disarm it.
My blood chilled.
Someone had just exited the west courtyard.
I looked toward Dev.
He was already running.
And I followed him into the darkness — where our pasts and truths were now waiting to be unraveled.
---
*POV: Dev*
The cold slammed into me like a wall as I burst through the side hallway, barefoot, shirt still half-buttoned, heart racing. I didn't wait for Justin. I didn't wait for answers. I just ran.
She was here.
Whoever she was.
Whoever was watching us — playing this long, sick game with my family.
And she was slipping away.
The house's west courtyard was almost surreal in its silence. Moonlight pooled over the stone floors, the marble statues casting long distorted shadows. I'd lived in this house for most of my life, but tonight it felt unfamiliar… like it had grown teeth in the dark.
I turned a sharp corner.
No one.
Nothing.
Just the door to the **old storage wing**, the one that had been locked for over a decade.
No one used it.
Not since—
"Dev!" Justin's voice was behind me now, sharp. "She went this way?"
I didn't answer.
My hand was already on the rusted latch. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked.
I pushed the door.
And it creaked open like it had been waiting.
---
Inside, the air was different — dry, preserved, suffocating with forgotten dust and memories no one had dared disturb.
And I remembered this room.
Barely.
I must've been ten. My father told me never to come here. Said it was for "records" and "old family files." But even then, I knew that was a lie.
He wasn't hiding junk.
He was hiding people.
Secrets.
Monsters.
And now… her.
I stepped inside, my feet crunching over broken glass. Justin followed, flashlight drawn. "You sure this is a good idea?" he asked.
"No," I muttered. "But it's the only one I've got."
At the far end of the hallway, something moved.
Just a shadow. Just a flicker.
But I chased it like it owed me every answer I'd never gotten.
---
The corridor led to an old chamber—formerly a wine cellar—now clearly converted into some kind of observation room. Equipment. Screens. Surveillance.
Some working.
Some blinking.
Some dead.
And there, on the center table, were photos — printed, annotated. All of us.
Me.
Justin.
Radhika.
Sahil and Ishika on the boat in Venice.
Even Gulafsha, leaving the hotel last night.
Like someone had been watching not just for days… but for *years*.
Justin moved toward the screen. "Dev… these aren't just photos."
"What?"
"They're memory records."
He pointed to the symbols. Biometric scans, brainwaves, *voice matches*. "These aren't just surveillance files. Someone's been mapping your father's neural patterns. Controlling him."
The chill settled in my bones.
I walked to the corner of the room, where a chair was turned toward a dimly lit screen — and I saw it.
**My father's signature.**
Only the handwriting… wasn't his.
Below it, typed in a clean, elegant font:
> "Memories are keys.
> And some doors must never be opened."
The printer beside it still hummed.
A fresh page slid out.
It read:
> "Welcome to the truth, Dev.
> You were always meant to follow the echo."
---
I turned, breathing heavily.
I didn't know what scared me more — that someone was watching… or that I might already be part of something bigger, older, more dangerous than any of us ever imagined.
I looked at Justin.
"We have to tell them."
He nodded. "And get them out of here."
As we turned to leave, the projector behind us flickered to life.
A young girl's voice — faint, broken.
"My name… is Aarya."
My stomach dropped.
Radhika's dead sister.
And suddenly everything — everything — started to make sense.
But if she was dead… then who the hell was controlling all of this?
---
**End of Chapter**
Thank you.....