Rooftop – Dusk
The city hummed below, quiet and unaware, as the rooftop soaked in the tension between Simran and Junaid. Her back was pressed to the metal railing, his frame hovering over hers, pulling her into a magnetic gravity neither of them could name.
"You always disappear when I need you the most," he whispered, brushing a knuckle against her cheek.
"I'm right here," she breathed.
"For now."
And with that, he kissed her.
It was soft at first—just warmth and hesitation—but it deepened fast. His hands slid to her waist, hers curled into his hoodie. The moment pulled them under like a wave.
But then…
A sharp chill licked at her ankles.
Simran flinched. "Did you feel that?"
He stilled. "Feel what?"
A whisper—so faint, so impossibly close—slid between the wind:
"Junaid."
They both turned. No one there.
The rooftop light flickered. Then went out.
Pitch black.
"Simran?" he called.
"I'm right—" she started.
But the voice cut her off.
"Junaid!"
This time it was loud. Real. A guy's voice. Rahil's.
Junaid turned. Rahil stood in the doorway, frowning, phone lighting his confused face. "You good?"
Junaid blinked. "Yeah—hold up, I—" He turned back.
Simran was gone.
Gone.
Not even footsteps. Not even her warmth in the air. She had been in his arms just seconds ago. Now, nothing. Like she had been air all along.
"SIMRAN!" he called.
Silence.
And then—behind him on the railing—something glowed in the moonlight. A frost-like residue, creeping across the metal.
He stepped closer.
The word was back.
REMEMBER.
Written this time not just in red... but dripping.
His pulse thudded. His eyes darted to the far edge of the roof. Nothing.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
> "You don't even know what she is.