(Nivaan POV)
If someone had warned me that returning to MindMesh after six months of blacking out would feel like walking into my own funeral, I would've dressed better. Not that it mattered. I was already dead inside; I just didn't want HR to know before I did.
My first impression?Everyone stared like they were waiting for me to confess to a crime I didn't remember committing.
Great.Love that for me.
The chrome lobby smelled like coffee, anxiety, and unpaid ambition. Digital screens flashed company propaganda:
WE SEE YOU. WE SUPPORT YOU. WE EMPOWER YOU.
Cute.Also creepy, considering MindMesh literally tracked emotions with those "security badges" we all wore — tiny square devices sitting on your collarbone like a needy ex.
Mine wasn't syncing.Because of course it wasn't.
A receptionist with purple hair and eyeshadow sharp enough to slice steel blinked at me."You're back."
No 'welcome', no smile, just You're back — like a statement the whole company had been waiting to confirm.
"Yeah," I said. "Apparently."
The silence tasted bitter.Like secrets.
I signed in anyway — my signature looked familiar and foreign at once — and headed to the elevator. The glass walls reflected a guy who looked like me but more… used. Exhausted.
Black hair messy.Dark brown eyes like someone poured insomnia into them.Jawline sharper than my will to live.And my expression?Perma-'wtf.'
Somewhere during those missing six months, I'd picked up trauma as a personality.
The elevator doors slid open. I stepped in and hit 19.
As the elevator climbed, I checked my phone:No new messages.Because apparently no one cared that I'd disappeared. Cool.
Only one message existed in the inbox — written two days ago:
From unknown: "DON'T TRUST THE MIRRORS."
I didn't know what that meant, but at this point my life was giving metaphor-mania.
Ding.Floor 19.
The office smelled like fear.Or maybe I was projecting.
Glass cubicles. Wide screens.People walked fast, talked faster, trying to look important so no one would fire them. Classic corporate ecosystem.
Then I saw her —Avni.
Tall. Slender.Black hair in a low bun.Eyes like she could read your bank password by looking at you once.Clothes crisp, minimal, expensive.Expression blank… but not because she felt nothing —No, she hid everything.
When she saw me, her steps froze for exactly half a second. It was tiny. Barely noticeable. But I caught it.
Her lips parted slightly, like a glitch in software."Nivaan?"
Her voice was low, smooth, controlled —the kind of voice meditation apps would pay for.
"I guess," I said.
Guess?Yeah.Because I still wasn't 100% sure I was me.
She looked me up and down — subtly, professionally — but her eyes lingered like there was a memory she was checking against reality.
"You weren't supposed to come today," she said.
"Honestly? I wasn't supposed to come back at all. But here we are."
Her expression didn't fully change, but something inside it definitely cracked — like a tiny earthquake under a poker face.
"You should talk to HR," she said.
"Is that advice or a threat?"
"Both," she said, walking away.
Oh.So we're doing cryptic ex-lover energy?Fun.
I followed her to the main floor.People pretended not to look — classic corporate stealth staring. But their eyes flicked toward me like I was trending on internal gossip TikTok.
Three desks down, someone had left a half-melted donut next to coffee.There are serial killersAnd then there are people who leave donuts like that.Same category.
Then I saw him —leaning against the glass wall like he owned gravity.Kiyan.
Tall.Warm eyes.That soft-boy-with-an-agenda look.Sherwani-level cheekbones but denim jacket energy.
He looked at me with… relief?He walked over, smile tilting lopsided.
"You're alive," he said.
"That's what my badge said at the gate."
"But are you you?"
"Unconfirmed."
He laughed — not in a mocking way.More like he was glad my sarcasm survived.
"We all thought you…"He trailed off.
"Ran away? Died? Joined the circus?"I suggested.
He shook his head."You disappeared in the middle of an audit. Then— nothing. No contacts. No logs. No digital trace."
Audit.That word sliced something in my brain.Like I'd heard it somewhere before — dark room, panic, too many voices —but the memory slipped away again.
"Kiyan," I said quietly."What did I do?"
His smile faltered."Don't ask that here."
Cryptic Corporate Rule #1:If they avoid answering in an open space, that means the truth is premium subscription.
Before he could say more —the temperature shifted.I felt eyes on my back.
I turned.
And there she was.Ira.
I'll be honest —If Avni was elegance and quiet knives,Ira was chaos wrapped in eyeliner.
Short black hair, messy in a way that looked intentional.Clothes oversized, layered, street-style.Piercings.Black boots that could kick a man into therapy.
Her eyes were big, sharp, emotional —like she'd lived a thousand feelings in a single morning.
She looked at me like she knew me better than I knew myself.Like she'd once held my heart and broken it with her teeth.
She walked toward me.No hesitation.
Then —she slapped me.
Hard.
The entire floor froze.
My cheek stung.My dignity cracked.My brain rebooted.
"Okay— hi," I said.
"You left," she whispered."You didn't say anything. Not a text. Not a note. Nothing."
"I don't remember leaving."
Her eyes broke.Just a little.
Then she stepped back."Liar."
I opened my mouth to reply —but the office screens flickered.All of them.
Hundreds of screens went static → glitch → then displayed one message:
WELCOME BACK, NIVAAN.WE MISSED WATCHING YOU.
The entire office gasped.
My badge vibrated violently —and synced itself.A red light flashed:
EMOTIONAL STATE: UNKNOWN / UNSTABLE
"No kidding," I muttered.
Then —the lights cut.Screens went black.
Someone screamed.
The floor thrummed like a heartbeat.Mechanical. Alive.
A whisper crawled through the PA system —
soft, distorted, familiar:
"Don't trust them."
I felt a chill shake down my spine.
Was that…my voice?
The lights snapped back.
Everyone stared at me.
I took a step backward —but Avni was already beside me, hand on my arm.
"Don't panic," she said.
Her tone? Calm.Too calm.
Kiyan stepped forward like he'd protect me.
Ira looked ready to fight everyone.
More heads turned — including two people I didn't recognize yet —but their eyes held stories.
And I knew instantly:This place wasn't just a job.
It was a trap.
And whoever I was before those six missing months…he'd done something unforgivable.
Something that was coming back.
For me.