The train screeched into Mathura Junction with a noise that sounded like a goat giving birth.
"Romantic start," Aarohi mumbled, stepping off. "Smells like cow poop and rebirth."
Ishaan was already ahead, checking Google Maps like it could explain the unexplainable.
"From here, it's a 30-minute drive to Vrindavan," he said.
"Awesome. Can't wait to be murdered by trees," she grinned.
He didn't react. Of course. Ishaan Malhotra didn't do reactions.
Their cab driver looked like he hadn't blinked since 2003.
Aarohi tried her usual charm. "Bhaiya, ever been to Nidhivan at night?"
He turned slowly. "Log jaate hain… par waapas nahi aate."
"Same vibes as my last relationship," she whispered.
Vrindavan was… oddly calm. Like a town that knew too much but had signed an NDA.
"Even the trees here look like they're hiding something," Aarohi said, staring at a Tulsi plant that looked like it had anxiety.
"That's a mutation," Ishaan said, kneeling to inspect.
"Yeah, well… so is my entire dating history."
Ishaan sighed. "Are you ever serious?"
"Only during pizza orders and existential crises."
At their guesthouse, a creepy notice greeted them:
No meat. No music. No entry after 8 PM.
"Cool. So, basically Hogwarts but vegetarian," Aarohi muttered.
Then came the priest — classic horror vibe: silent walk, no warning, white dhoti, dramatic aura.
He handed them a key wrapped in red cloth.
"Yeh andar le jaayega," he said.
"Wait, there's an 'inside'? Like… an official haunted tour?" Aarohi asked.
The old man just smiled. Creepy.
"Yeh uss waqt ka hai… jo aane wala hai."
"Okay sir that's a lot of vibe but zero clarity," she whispered.
Ishaan turned the key in his hand. It had no number. No tag.
"Why do I feel like this key opens trauma?" Aarohi said.
Ishaan smirked — the closest thing to a laugh he'd ever show.
As they walked toward the fog-drenched outline of Nidhivan, temple bells rang thrice behind them.
Aarohi stopped. "Why three times? Once is divine. Twice is dramatic. Thrice is—"
"—A warning," Ishaan finished.
"Okay. Cool cool cool. I regret everything."
The fog thickened. The trees whispered. And the night began.
They were checking into the guesthouse when a voice from behind startled them.
"You must be the ones investigating the file."
Ishaan turned. Aarohi paused mid-eye-roll.
A man stood at the edge of the corridor — late 30s, holding a diary, wearing a simple cotton kurta and oddly calm eyes.
"I'm Dr. Vivan Rajput," he said, offering a smile that was both warm… and unsettling.
"I study metaphysical field patterns in religious sites. I've been stationed here. For a while."
"How long's a while?" Aarohi asked.
He paused. "About… two years."
"And you're still here?" she raised a brow. "Did you lose a bet?"
Ishaan was silent — observing.
"You'll find Vrindavan… different," Vivan continued. "It doesn't reveal itself to those who want to prove. It opens only to those willing to believe."
Aarohi smirked. "We came for research, not religion."
"Then be careful," Vivan said, smile fading slightly.
"Because sometimes… this place doesn't wait for your belief.
It chooses you."
He turned and walked away — deeper into the corridor.
"Creepy but hot," Aarohi whispered.
Ishaan didn't answer. His eyes were still on Vivan's diary —
which had the same symbol as the one from the Nidhivan file.
Except…
the file never had any symbol.
Until now.