Raina's POV
I closed the laptop, I don't have the guts to open and see it,
Yes.
I do have cameras.
Hidden ones.
Installed two years ago — when I still lived in panic-routines, after the entire Nina disaster exploded in my face and left me with scars I still pretend don't exist.
No one knows about these cameras.
Not Betty.
Not my father.
Not even my ex-husband.
The world thinks I healed.
I didn't.
I just learned to hide better.
There're three hidden cameras tiny pinhole sized disguised as décor.
One near the bookshelf in the living room.
One behind a photo-frame in the hall.
And a third one my personal paranoia in the study.
I turn on the monitor screen inside my
bedside drawer the one only I know how to activate.
Three boxes appear live feed.
Living room.
Hall.
Study.
Everything looks… almost too normal.
Too still.
Too arranged.
Too untouched.
My body still feels tight though like my instincts are screaming louder than the visuals in front of me.
I stare at the living room feed again.
The yellow lamp glows exactly how I left it.
My couch cushions are still symmetrically placed.
My scented candle is still unlit.
Nothing is out of place.
And yet I can't shake this sense like something has shifted inside these walls.
Something I cannot see… but feel.
I close the monitor and place it back inside the drawer.
I inhale deeply and exhale slower.
My head is still dizzy partly exhaustion partly fear partly something else.
I slip out of my blazer and hang it over the chair.
My feet are cold now barefoot on marble Beverly Hills marble cold, expensive, smooth but offering zero comfort.
I should shower.
Change.
Sleep.
But I can't.
My mind keeps replaying that moment…
Rai.
The way he said it soft confident like he knew the weight that single syllable would carry.
He didn't come to therapy.
He came for me.
And that is what terrifies me most that I didn't even know I was being hunted until the predator stepped into the light.
I rub my temples hard.
Is he connected to Nina?
Nina…
my "best friend"…
the one who stood with me through college through heartbreak through the first major failure of my life the one who swore she'd take my secrets to death.
But she didn't.
She traded them.
For what?
Money?
Power?
Status?
I don't know.
I never got a closure.
That part of my past is a black hole and anything connected to it still makes my chest hurt.
What if this man is a part of that black hole?
What if he is here to finish what Nina started?
I stand up abruptly pacing arms folded around myself as if I need to physically hold my ribs together.
The dizziness returns for a second but I push through it.
I go to the kitchen open the fridge not because I'm hungry but because routine calms me.
I grab a bottle of chilled water as I don't drink and don't smoke, I was silently praying to my God to save me the coldness helps.
I gulp half the bottle without thinking.
My phone buzzes.
My heart lurches.
I almost drop the bottle fingers slipping for a second.
I snatch the phone immediately pulse hammering.
Unknown number.
Exactly the kind of number he would use.
My throat tightens.
I slide to open the message.
1 new text message:
"You looked beautiful in fear."
I freeze.
My jaw clenches.
My lungs forget how to function.
I glance around the apartment again instinctively as if he might be here already behind a corner watching.
How does he know what fear looks like… on me?
Did he study me earlier?
Is this not the first time he's been near me?
Did he walk past me in the supermarket?
On the street?
In the clinic hallway weeks ago?
Months ago?
My pulse races so fast it almost hurts.
I force myself to text back fingers trembling but typing anyway:
"Who are you?"
Delivered.
No typing dots.
No reply.
The silence after sending it feels heavier than the message itself.
I grip the phone tightly knuckles white teeth clenched.
This is not imagination.
This is not paranoia.
Someone has entered my past again.
Someone who knows my name before I earned the title "Dr. Mehta."
Someone who knows the version of me I buried.
I swallow hard the fear now lodged like a stone in my throat.
For a moment I wish Betty was here even though she only comes in the day just her presence would've grounded me.
But nights?
Nights I face alone.
I sit down on the edge of my bed the city lights spill in through the huge glass windows Beverly Hills glitter like the world is celebrating while my life quietly collapses.
I whisper to myself like a ritual:
"I cannot let this destroy me again."
I repeat it.
Again.
And again.
But every repetition feels weaker than the last.
Because I know…
This is only the beginning.