NAVI
The night I got out on bail should have felt like a breath of fresh air. Instead, it was like I had traded one cage for another, only this one was bigger and filled with shadows that seemed to follow me everywhere.
The place I used to call home now felt foreign—cold, uninviting, almost like it was glaring at me. Every hallway was filled with a heavy silence, and every glance from a neighbor felt sharper than any words could be. Their eyes were full of judgment, as if I was already branded guilty.
Sure, the evidence against me was pretty damning, but it didn't make me a criminal. I had been granted bail, and I owed that to Mr. Sen—a true lifesaver who showed up when I was at my lowest, protecting me from total collapse. It was only because of my mental health struggles, and under strict conditions, that I was let go.
But this so-called freedom was just a mirage.
To the police, I was still just a suspect;
to the world, a pariah. My real fight was just beginning—against the heavy burden of judgmental stares, against the harsh morality imposed on me by a society eager to label me guilty.
I rushed into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me, my hands trembling as I leaned against the wood.
But the silence didn't last long.
That morning, the police had finally returned my phone—a piece of my life I thought I'd lost forever. Just hours later, it buzzed in my hand, lighting up with a message from an unknown number.
"Stay away from Nihal. He is ours. You won't live long if you pretend to be his woman."
Stay away from Nihal.
What on earth did that text mean?
Nihal was dead. The evidence was overwhelming—every report, every witness, every detail screamed the same truth: he was gone. His death had crafted its own story, undeniable and final.
And yet—what I saw couldn't have been a figment of my imagination. That dark figure, that familiar shape—it wasn't a mirage. It was Nihal. Alive. Standing there, as if death itself had been fooled.
If this wasn't just a hallucination, If Nihal is truly alive, then whose body did they bury? And even more chilling—if his enemies are already aware of this truth, then why are they warning me? Why me?
And what exactly is Nihal? The name itself feels like a puzzle—one that refuses to be pieced together. What kind of mystery surrounds him that his enemies reach out to me, threatening and warning, as if I've stumbled into a game I never agreed to play?
Who is Nihal—really? A man, a ghost, a shadow that won't stay buried? The deeper I dig for answers, the more I realize that Nihal is not just a person—he is a secret wrapped in lies, a storm that pulls everyone into its eye. And now, whether I like it or not, I find myself caught in its center.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me froze. My blood ran cold. Before the fear could fully settle in, another ping shattered the silence.
A photo.
My photo.
It was me—captured just moments ago, standing at the entrance of my building.
The phone slipped from my shaking hands as my knees buckled. A chilling wave of dread wrapped around me. Someone was watching me. Not yesterday, not later—right now.
My heart raced so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. I yanked the curtains shut, stumbling back until my back hit the wall, crouched low like a hunted animal. My mind was a whirlwind of chaos.
Nihal. His enemies.
They thought I belonged to him. His woman.
And if that's what they believed, then my fate was already sealed. I wasn't just being watched—I was being marked.
A sharp knock shattered the stillness.
Three sharp knocks on the door—deliberate, almost predatory, like a hunter announcing its presence.
My breath caught in my throat. I was paralyzed.
Another knock followed, louder and more aggressive. Then came a voice—deep, male, dripping with menace.
"Open up."
This wasn't the police. Not a neighbor. This voice wasn't asking; it was on the prowl.
My instincts screamed at me. Don't answer. Don't make a sound.
I tiptoed toward the kitchen, each step a struggle against the shaking in my legs. My fingers wrapped around the heaviest thing I could find—a rusty iron pan. The cold metal pressed into my sweaty palms as I gripped it like a lifeline.
The knocking turned into a furious barrage.
"You can't hide, girl! If he loves you, he'll come for you. And when he does, you'll both die together!"
The words sliced through the air, each one pounding against my skull. A final blow shook the doorframe so violently I thought it might splinter—then, just like that, silence.
I stood there, frozen, every nerve on edge. The pan slipped from my grasp, crashing onto the tiled floor with a sharp clang that echoed like gunfire in the stillness. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the sob that clawed its way up my throat.
But the silence didn't last long. My phone buzzed against the counter, the vibration a chilling reminder that I wasn't free. Dread tightened around my chest as I forced myself to look.
One last message.
"You're next."
***
By morning, I was a mere shadow of myself. Sleep had eluded me—how could it, when every creak of the building felt like footsteps creeping closer, when every shadow loomed like a threat ready to pounce? My eyes burned from fatigue, my nerves frayed and raw.
There was only one name my mind clung to amidst the chaos—Dr. Arvind Sen.
Not the police, who only saw guilt.
Not Nihal, whose world had dragged me into this nightmare.
Dr. Sen had listened. He had believed—if not completely, at least enough to make me feel human again. And now, he was the only lifeline I could still reach for.
Clutching my bag tight against my chest , I slipped out of my flat with my head down, just trying to disappear into the crowd. But the streets felt different today—harsher, like every corner had eyes. Even people's glances seemed to stick on me a little too long. My heart was pounding when I flagged down an auto and gave the driver the only place that still felt safe… Dr. Sen's private clinic, all the way across the city.
The clinic was quiet, its waiting room dimly lit, the air heavy with antiseptic and a sense of unease. A nurse shot me a questioning look but didn't say a word, leading me straight into his office.
Dr. Sen looked up from his desk, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Navi? You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."
The calm steadiness of his voice nearly broke me. Tears welled up in my eyes, my defenses crumbling. "They're watching me," I whispered, my voice trembling. "His enemies. They think I'm with him. They've sent me threats… pictures. I don't know what to do, Dr. Sen. Please… help me."
For a moment, his expression softened, almost tender with concern. Then, with purpose, he closed his notebook, his eyes narrowing with a strange intensity. "Tell me exactly what they said."
I opened my mouth, words spilling out—when a sound interrupted me.
Click.
The office door locked from the inside.
I froze. A chill ran down my spine as the door swung open, and a man stepped in. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black. His presence filled the room like smoke, thick and suffocating.
My stomach dropped. My breath hitched.
Nihal.
He is alive. Right in front of me.
"No…" The word barely escaped my lips. "This can't be real. You're supposed to be dead."
Dr. Sen didn't move, didn't flinch. He simply adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "You two need to talk."
I turned to him, horror coursing through my veins. "You—you knew?"
Nihal's smile twisted, slow and cruel. "Of course he knew. Do you really think things like this happen without someone pulling the strings?"
My knees felt weak, as if the ground was about to give way beneath me. "You… you planned all this?"
He stepped closer, his gaze cutting through me like a knife. "You were perfect, Navi. The delicate little girl with a sickness no one understands. So easy to manipulate. So easy to blame. While I slipped away from my own death and erased every trace of myself."
The world tilted violently. The walls seemed to close in, the betrayal suffocating. Dr. Sen—my last hope—had handed me over like a pawn in their twisted game.
I staggered back until my spine hit the wall, my body trembling, feeling trapped. "Why me?" My voice cracked, thin and raw. "Why drag me into this?"
Nihal leaned in, his breath brushing my ear, his words like poisonous silk. "Because, little one… you're mine now. And the game has only just begun."