Characters
Leela – She's a college student. To those watching closely, she's a moving mystery, one that never seems entirely safe.
Arjun – His eyes follow patterns others ignore. Curiosity is his strength, and his curse. He doesn't yet know how deep his questions will drag him.
Vishal – Always in the background, a passing shadow. He is a man with purpose, though no one is certain what it is… or who it's for.
Yamini – Leela's friend and confidante. She jokes, she teases, but her mind is sharp enough to slice through any lie. If there's a secret, she will find it, and she'll drag it into the light.
Rain hammered the city in a relentless rhythm. Birds hid in the trees, their faint chirps drowned out by the storm. The wind roared through narrow lanes, bending signboards and whipping puddles into ripples. Dark clouds hung low, smothering the daylight.
Leela's umbrella tilted against the gusts as she walked to the bus stop. Her gaze swept the street — a habit now — before she stopped under the tin roof shelter. No bus yet. Her eyes sweeping the corners like someone who had learned to notice things. The rain clung to her like silver threads, tracing the edges of her navy coat. Her hair, dark and loose, spilled over her shoulders, catching in the wind and brushing against her cheeks. Raindrops jeweled the fabric of her scarf, and the soft sway of her steps gave the impression she was moving to some quiet rhythm only she could hear. The umbrella framed her face in shadow.
Across the road, a warm light glowed from a small coffee shop. The thought of standing here, damp and shivering, made her sigh. She crossed quickly, pushed open the glass door, and ordered a hot chocolate. The smell of cocoa filled her senses. She scrolled her phone until the cup arrived, its steam curling into the air. She drank slowly, savoring the heat, then paid and returned to the stop.
Someone was watching her. Again.
A boy sat in the far corner of the shelter, pretending not to look. She'd seen him before — always there, always watching.
And then there was the car. Parked to her left, black, tinted. Inside, Vishal sat half-hidden, speaking quietly into his phone. His gaze never left her. She didn't notice him.
The bus finally pulled in, brakes hissing. She stepped aboard, squeezed between strangers. Behind her, Vishal slid from his car, and the boy from the corner — Arjun — also boarded.
Her phone rang. Yamini.
Leela: "One idiot's been following me for weeks, Yami. I don't know who he is."
Yamini: "Really? That's interesting. What does he look like? Has he talked to you?"
Leela: "No. But I feel him there, every time. I swear I'm going to yell at him today."
Yamini: "Don't. Just watch him. Tomorrow I'll come with you — we'll figure it out. We're psychology students; this will be easy to crack."
Leela: "Alright. You're still coming to college, right? We have to finish the thesis."
Yamini: "Yes. I'll be there in the afternoon. Going out with Andrew now. See you soon."
Leela: "Okay. Bye."
The bus stopped at her college. She stepped off, vanishing into the campus.
Arjun and Vishal followed at a distance, their eyes tracking her. Vishal's phone was out again, thumbs moving quickly.
Two days passed. Arjun waited at the bus stop each morning. No Leela. Not at the stop, not at the campus.
He knew where she lived. His house faced hers, but she didn't know that. From his upstairs window, he could see her front door and the small window beside it.
For three days, both had been locked tight. Yet every evening, lights flickered inside. She must be home.
By the third night, curiosity burned too hot to ignore. Tonight, after 1 a.m., I'll go. She always sleeps late anyway.
When the street fell silent, Arjun slipped outside. Behind her house lay an abandoned plot, choked with weeds — an easy way in. He crept through, damp leaves brushing his arms, and reached her back window. It was stiff, but he forced it open just enough to see.
A plate sat on the table, piled with red meat. On the couch, a bare leg rested motionless.
He waited, straining for a glimpse of her face. Rain began to pour, thunder cracking overhead. Unease crept in. Checking the shadows to be sure no one saw him, he slipped away, disappointment etched across his face.
Leela had a weekend ritual: jogging in the park. Arjun knew this, though he hadn't followed her to the park. This morning, he waited there, determined to speak to her.
She arrived, ponytail swinging, her steps light despite the wet ground.
Arjun raised a hand. "Hi."
She looked at him. "Hi," she replied, setting her bag on a bench before jogging away.
What? For a month, he'd followed her, and she'd never even looked at him. Now, she greets him like nothing's wrong? Confusion tangled with relief.
After a few laps, she stopped beneath a large tree, rummaging through her bag. No bottle. She sighed and started past him.
"One second," he said, stepping toward her. "May I know your name?"
She paused, wary. "Why?"
"I've seen you at the bus stop almost every day, but the past few days you've been gone. I just wanted to check… is everything alright?"
Her voice softened. "Oh… my closest relatives died. I wasn't here."
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I hope they've found peace."
"Thanks. Bye."
"Wait — you didn't tell me your name."
She turned, a small smile on her lips. "Leela."
They parted. Arjun walked to his usual tea shop, the warmth of her voice still echoing in his head. He lifted his cup — then froze.
For three nights, lights had been on in her house. She said she'd been away. She lived alone.
So who was in her home?
One Month Earlier
Arjun had been searching for a place that breathed — somewhere the wind could pass freely through the windows, carrying the scent of rain and open sky. One afternoon, he found it — a modest house at the far end of a quiet street. It wasn't just what he wanted; it was more. Without hesitation, he sealed the deal, and within days, he was hauling in boxes with the help of a few weary labourers.
That night, exhaustion claimed him quickly. But the next morning, when he drew back the curtains, his eyes caught a scene that held him still.
Across the narrow street, a girl stood in her doorway, her backlit figure framed by the early light. She was tying her hair into a loose knot, strands dancing in the wind like silk ribbons. She didn't see him, but in that moment, he saw enough to know he would remember her.
The following day, Arjun waited by the window again — this time, not by accident. When she stepped out, umbrella tucked under her arm, he quietly followed at a distance. She walked to the bus stop, pausing to smile and talk with a group of children. The way her hair caught in the breeze, the way her laughter mingled with the rain — it was then he realised he liked her. Not as a passing stranger, but as something he wanted to keep watching.
And so, for days after, he trailed behind her. Sometimes she noticed; sometimes she didn't. But to her, he was just a shadow in the street — a man she didn't know and didn't care to. To him, she was the rhythm of the neighbourhood, a quiet obsession he couldn't name.
Present Day
The evening was restless with wind when Arjun returned home. Across the street, a car was parked in front of Leela's house. He froze. She had never had a car there before.
Inside his own home, his thoughts tangled. Whose car? Why now? And then, the old temptation — to see for himself.
By midnight, he had made up his mind. At 12:37 a.m., the low rumble of an engine stirred him. He peered through the blinds. Leela was leaving — slipping into the driver's seat of that car. But upstairs in her house, a light glowed in her bedroom window.
His heartbeat quickened. Someone else is inside.
Arjun's mind raced. Follow her… or find out who's in there? The decision burned in his chest. He clenched his jaw. "Let her go," he whispered to himself. "We're going in."
Slipping out, he crossed to the back of her property, where weeds had grown wild and thick. Each step on the fallen twigs was a small betrayal of sound in the heavy night. The old roof tiles were slick under his shoes as he climbed to the lower window ledge, using the sloped roof as a path upward.
The upstairs window resisted at first, then gave way with a reluctant creak. Through the narrow gap, he could see the edge of a bed… and a figure. A girl sat with her back to him, hair spilling over her shoulders, her stillness strange in the dim light.
Then—
A voice. Close. Too close.
"Who are you?"
The words cut through the dark.
Arjun's stomach dropped as he turned, eyes locking onto the shadow of a person standing behind him.
To be continued in Chapter 2.