Words:5800+
Siara Pov:
Age: 15
I never imagined that something so small-just one look at a person-could change the way I feel inside. A simple glance, yet it makes my heart lighter, as if some invisible weight has been lifted. It isn't happiness the way people describe in textbooks or movies; it's quieter, almost secret. But with him, it happens every single time.
"Am I the only one who feels this?" I whisper to myself.
My brain: Of course not stupid. Everyone goes through this. You're just realizing it a bit earlier than you expected.
I sigh. "Earlier? Too early?" The thought feels strange, but I push it away.
Today matters more. Today I'll see him again. One month-it doesn't sound long, but it feels like forever. The last time was Thursday last day of school before the vacation just a fleeting moment when our PT class overlapped with his PT class. A moment so brief it shouldn't matter. But it does. It always does.
Before summer vacation, the school shuffled our classrooms. Before, mine was near the staircase, perfectly placed for me to catch a glimpse of him every day. Just one look, and it would be enough to carry me through the hours. But now my class is on same floor but away form stairs, and those easy glimpses are gone.
My brain: One look? You call that enough?
"Ignore her," I mutter, rolling my eyes at myself.
I hurry to the bathroom before Mom notices I'm still not ready. If she does, her speech will rain down on me, filling my morning with words I don't want to hear. Definitely not today.
Twenty minutes later, I step out, hair dripping slightly, skin still warm from the rush. Now comes the harder part-getting ready. I stand before the mirror, staring at my hairbrush like it's an enemy. "Bhagwan ji, please, just once, let me do this right. Give me the skill to tame this mess."
After nearly twenty minutes of pulling, tying, and muttering under my breath, I manage something halfway decent. Not perfect, but passable.
I glance at the clock. 6:30.
"What the-" I bite my tongue, stopping the words. "Control yourself, Siara. This isn't the place for that."
Breakfast. Five minutes or less. Impossible.
My brain: If you don't hurry, you know what's coming-Mom's lecture.
"No, no, no." I rush to the living room, almost tripping on the carpet. My brother, who woke up barely thirty minutes ago, sits perfectly ready, uniform crisp, calmly eating breakfast as if he's in no rush. He glances up at me, smirks, then goes back to his food.
I grab my plate from the kitchen and eat faster than I thought possible. Four minutes. Done. I close my eyes, whispering, "Thank you, God. I'm saved."
My brain: Saved? You call this survival?
Then it happens.
My mother's voice cuts through the calm like a knife-low, controlled, but enough to make my heart leap: "Hogayi ready?"
My mouth feels dry, but I force a reply: "Haa... hogayi. Bas shoes pehne hai."
She studies me for a second, then simply nods and walks into her room. Relief floods my chest.
I slip into my shoes, grab my bag, and step outside. The morning air is cooler than expected, carrying the faint smell of wet earth from last night's watering. Driver uncle stands beside the car, leaning slightly on the door, waiting patiently. For me.
I slide into the backseat, and soon the car hums to life. The city passes by in fragments through the window-shops opening shutters, children adjusting their uniforms, bicycles rushing past, sunlight slipping between tall buildings. But none of it really touches me. My world is elsewhere. My thoughts are fixed on one thing, one person.
Him.
The way his hair always looks like it's caught halfway between neat and careless. The way he laughs with his friends, eyes crinkling in a way that feels warmer than the summer sun. The way he never notices me, not really-but still, I notice everything. The way his bag hangs loose over his shoulder, the way his shoes are never properly tied, the way his voice carries across the ground when he calls out during games.
And the way just one look-just one-can make my whole day feel brighter.
The car rolled to a stop at the school gate, and my heart gave a little jump. I stepped out, bag slung over my shoulder, trying to look casual even though excitement hummed under my skin. The school building looked the same as always-tall walls, faded paint, windows gleaming under the morning sun-but after a week of summer break, everything felt fresh, louder, brighter.
I walked through the corridor, my shoes echoing against the floor, weaving between groups of students chatting and laughing. The familiar noise of morning greetings filled the air. Somewhere down the hall, someone shouted for a lost notebook; on the staircase, a cluster of juniors hurried past.
Then, finally, my classroom. I pushed the door open, and there they were.
"Tara!" I called, spotting her first. She was perched on the first bench, half her hair tied up, already unpacking her books like she owned the place.
She turned, grinning. "Look who finally decided to show up!"
Before I could answer, Sara came running from the back of the class, arms flailing dramatically. "Siaraaa! You're alive after vacation!" She threw her arms around me as if we hadn't just spoken yesterday on the phone.
I laughed, hugging her back. "Yes, alive and on time. Miracles happen."
Roop, of course, was sitting near the window, legs crossed, scribbling something in her notebook with the kind of focus that made her look like a philosopher. She looked up briefly, gave me her small, knowing smile, and said, "So, how many minutes did you take to tame your hair today?"
Heat crept up my cheeks. "Not... too many."
All three of them burst out laughing.
I rolled my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but inside, the warmth spread through me. After a long week of adjusting to new class positions, new routines, and endless sighs about not being able to see him every day, being with my girls felt like home.
I dropped my bag onto the bench beside them and slid into my seat, already drowning in their chatter-Tara talking about the teacher's new hairstyle, Sara complaining about homework, and Roop quietly adding her sharp one-liners in between.
And just like that, the day began, ordinary yet special in the way only school mornings with friends could be.
The morning passed in a smart pen thuk thuk sound and half-listened lectures. Tara kept whispering jokes during math, her face straight as stone whenever the teacher looked our way. Roop, on the other hand, wasn't paying attention at all-her notebook was wide open, but the page was full of doodles and random lyrics she was scribbling, not a single formula in sight.
And then there was Sara.
By the time the fourth lecture had started, she was already fidgeting, leaning across benches with wide eyes. "What did you bring today? Show me your lunchbox," she hissed at me.
I shook my head, trying to stay focused. "Sara, class is still going on."
She rolled her eyes, completely unbothered. A second later, she nudged Tara. "You? What's in your tiffin?"
Tara swatted her hand away, stifling a laugh. "Wait till recess, drama queen."
But Sara wasn't done. She leaned halfway over her desk, whispering to Roop now. "Tell me yours, na. I'm starving already."
Roop chuckled, shading another doodle in her notebook. "Why should I tell you? You'll steal mine before recess even comes."
I couldn't help it-I laughed too, though I kept my head bent low so the teacher wouldn't notice. Sara's impatience always managed to make the dullest class feel alive.
Finally, the bell rang for recess. In seconds, our benches transformed into a noisy mess of open tiffins, chips packets, and the smell of parathas filling the air. Sara, of course, was the first to dig in-her "investigation" finally rewarded.
We ate, laughed, teased one another, and somewhere in between all that noise, my mind tugged back to the thought I'd been carrying all day.
Wednesday. Last lecture. PT.
And my chest tightened with the kind of excitement I could never say aloud.
I tried to focus on my food, but my eyes kept drifting to the clock, watching the hands crawl forward.
"Why are you staring at the clock like it owes you money?" Tara asked, nudging me.
"Nothing," I said too quickly.
Sara leaned closer, suspicious. "Nothing? You look like you're counting every second."
Roop smirked knowingly but said nothing. Her silence made me blush even harder.
The day stretched on. Physics. History. English. Each lecture dragging, each minute slower than the one before. My pen moved across the page, but the words didn't sink in. Instead, my heart beat faster with the steady realization: just one more period, and then PT.
Finally, the bell rang for the last lecture. The air in the corridor shifted-lighter, louder, buzzing with energy. Students spilled out of classrooms, some already tying their shoelaces, others waving sports equipment in the air.
We gathered our things and headed to the ground. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm glow, shadows stretching long across the field. The smell of dust and freshly cut grass filled the air.
And then... my heart caught in my chest.
There he was. Across the ground, laughing with his friends, tossing a ball in the air as if time belonged to him. His hair glinted under the sunlight, a little messy, just the way I remembered. My feet slowed without me even realizing, my chest tightening at the sight.
It had been a month. A whole month since I last saw him. And here he was again, like no time had passed.
My brain: All this fuss for one look?
But even she sounded softer now, almost quiet. Because she knew-one look was enough.
The whistle blew, snapping me back to the present. Everyone rushed onto the field, scattering into groups. I followed my friends, though my body moved slower, my mind still stuck on him.
"Come on, Siara! Don't just stand there," Tara yelled, tugging at my arm.
I blinked. "Haan, coming."
The game began. They ran, shouted, laughed, chasing the ball as if the world depended on it. I moved too-at least my legs did-but my eyes refused to stay where they should. Every time I tried to focus on the game, my gaze wandered back to him. The way he bent down to tie his shoelace, the way he pushed his hair back, the way his laughter carried across the field louder than any whistle.
"Oi! Ball!" Roop's voice cut through my daze. A second later, the ball whizzed past me, and Tara groaned dramatically.
"Useless!" she shouted, but she was laughing as she said it.
Meanwhile, Sara had turned the game into a shouting match, her voice louder than everyone else's. "Pass here! No, here! Uff, don't you people listen?"
Aliya and Madhia were no better-Aliya tripped over her own shoelaces and fell into Madhia, who shrieked so loud half the ground turned to look. Tara nearly doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach.
Chaos surrounded me-shouts, laughter, scolding, the thud of feet against the ground. But none of it reached me fully. My world was split in two: one half pretending to play, running in circles with my friends, and the other half quietly stealing glances at him.
Every time he laughed, my chest tightened. Every time he moved, my heart skipped. And no matter how much noise my friends created, nothing drowned out the simple truth-I was here, but my eyes were only on him.
Rudra POV:
Age: 18
From across the field, my eyes found her without me even trying. Siara.
At first, she wasn't really playing-just moving half-heartedly with her friends, her mind clearly elsewhere. But then, slowly, she began to run, chasing the ball, her hair bouncing with every step. I almost smiled. It had been a month since I last saw her, and yet nothing had changed. She still carried that strange mix of clumsiness and stubborn determination.
I pretended to focus on my own game, but my attention kept flickering back to her.
And then it happened.
The ball came flying, faster than anyone expected. She turned too late. Thud. It smacked straight against her head.
She froze, blinking, one hand flying to the spot. For a heartbeat, the ground went silent.
Then chaos erupted.
"Oh my God, Siara!" Sara screamed, rushing to her side like it was a battlefield injury.
"Who kicked that ball?!" Tara's voice rang out, sharp enough to make half the players step back.
Roop, on the other hand, doubled over laughing, tears in her eyes. "Hahaha-her face! Did you see her face?!"
Aliya gasped dramatically, as if someone had been shot. "She's going to faint!"
Her one more friend echoed the panic, clutching her own head like she had been hit. "Somebody call Ma'am!"
And there she was, standing in the middle of the storm, cheeks flushed, hand pressed against her forehead, looking equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.
I couldn't stop myself-I stepped forward.
"You okay?" The words slipped out before I could think. My voice carried across the field, and for a moment, the noise around her dimmed. She looked at me, startled, eyes wide.
Her friends immediately closed ranks, like protective guards. Tara glared at me, Sara kept fussing over her, and Roop muttered, still laughing, "She'll survive, don't worry."
But her eyes-just for a second-met mine. And in that look, I knew she was fine. Embarrassed, yes. Flustered, absolutely. But fine.
I forced myself to turn back, to act as if it was nothing. Just a ball, just a moment. Still, my chest tightened in a way no game could explain.
Because for me, it wasn't just a moment.
The game resumed half-heartedly, but my focus stayed where she stood.
Siara rubbed her forehead, shaking her head like she wanted to prove nothing had happened. Still, I noticed the faint pink mark where the ball had hit. She was trying so hard to laugh it off, to act normal in front of her friends, but I could see the way she winced when Tara touched her shoulder too suddenly.
Sara, of course, refused to calm down.
"You're definitely hurt. What if it's internal bleeding?" she exclaimed dramatically, holding Siara's face between her hands as if she were a doctor.
Roop was still laughing, clutching her stomach. "Please, Sara. It's not a movie-she got hit, not murdered!"
Aliya gasped again. "No, no, Sara's right! What if she forgets who we are? Concussion!"
Her friend started waving her hands like she was calling for rescue. "Somebody get water! Or ice! Or-anything!"
Siara groaned, covering her face with her palms. "Bas karo, yaar. I'm fine!" Her voice was muffled but firm.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a smile. She wasn't fine-at least not completely-but the way she stood there, trying to brush off the chaos, only made her stand out more. Strong, stubborn, fiery in her own way.
I wanted to walk over, just check on her properly. Maybe offer ice, maybe tell her to sit for a while. But my friends were watching, hers were guarding her like soldiers, and I... couldn't.
So I stayed back, forcing myself into the game again. Still, every time I glanced up, my eyes betrayed me, finding her across the field-her laughing too loud, her hand pressed too often to her forehead, her friends buzzing around her like fireflies.
And deep inside, I knew one thing.
No matter how much noise surrounded us, I'd seen it-the way her eyes had found mine in that split second when I asked, "You okay?"
She hadn't needed to answer. I already knew.
Present
Age: 25
I've been lying on my bed for 10 hours, staring at the ceiling like it's a masterpiece. It's not. Just white paint, unbroken, unremarkable. Yet somehow, it's the only thing keeping me tethered. Funny, how ordinary things grow sharp edges when your mind refuses to rest.
My pets flank me like silent guardians-my black panther curled sleek and still on the left, my golden retriever sprawled warm and heavy on the right. Their steady, unhurried breathing fills the room. Peaceful. Untouched. Unlike me.
I should feel the same quiet. I should. But my head is an echo chamber. Every thought ricochets like bullets, refusing to die down.
It was supposed to be just another dull evening-forgettable, interchangeable with the hundred that came before. But fate? Fate doesn't knock politely. It barges in, uninvited. Because today, after a year and a half of being invisible in this apartment, I finally got a new neighbor.
Not just any neighbor.
Him.
My sister-in-law's elder brother.
And my brain-the traitor-whispers the truth like it's relishing my torment: Your teenage crush. The one you never outgrew.
I squeeze my eyes shut, jaw tightening. "Shut up. No one asked you."
Why is he even here? He's not supposed to be here. The last I knew, his life was continents away, running his head office in L.A. My bhabhi swore he'd been there for two years, building his empire. And now? Out of nowhere-bam. Right across my door. Too close. Uncomfortably close.
My phone won't stop buzzing. It's been vibrating like a trapped bee for half an hour. I ignored it. I had to. My nerves are already a live wire, sparking and snapping. More noise, more messages, more people-I can't take it.
Then it buzzes again. And again.
A groan escapes me. I rub my temples, the tension pooling there is like poison. "Who the hell died?" I mutter under my breath, reaching reluctantly for the phone.
The screen lights up-4+ unread messages in the girls' group. I tap. Laughter caught in pixels. Blurry selfies. Short clips of us shrieking mid-song. My lips twitch into a smile, weak but real. For a moment, the weight lifts.
But then-another set of notifications.
4+ messages.
Unknown number.
The smile disintegrates. My thumb stalls mid-air, suddenly heavy. My brows knit, hesitation gnawing at me. My chest feels tight, squeezed by invisible hands. I don't want to open it. But the pull of curiosity is stronger, darker.
Finally, I give in. One tap.
The ID loads.
And my heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts.
The air feels different-thicker, heavier. The room tilts, my bed no longer steady ground. A cold current coils through me, sharp and unforgiving.
The chat window slides open, and the first message stares back at me.
> "Miss me, Siara?"
My stomach drops, a sickening plunge, as if the floor just vanished beneath me.
After the last message on Hawaii.
My throat tightens, lips parting slightly. My fingers go cold, the phone suddenly heavier in my hand.
I scroll down, jaw clenched.
> " form four years...and yet you didn't forget to keep your curtains half open. Sweet."
My stomach drops. My body jerks upright too quickly, startling my pets. My golden retriever raises his head, blinking at me with worried eyes, while the panther shifts, ears flicking back at my sudden movement.
My brain: Oh great. Back stalker. Congratulations, Siara, your life just turned once again into a Netflix thriller.
I press my palm against my chest, feeling the rapid hammer of my heartbeat. "Shut up," I whisper, though I'm not sure if it's to my brain or the buzzing phone.
Another message lights up the screen.
> "Don't panic. I like watching you when you panic, but not tonight. Tonight I just wanted to say... welcome your neighbor properly. Should I knock?"
My eyes darted to the door. The door across the hall.
No. No way.
It couldn't be-
Could it?
My sister-in-law's elder brother. My teenage crush. The man I thought I knew only from an innocent distance. The one fate just planted across my doorstep.
And now... this.
My hand shook as another bubble popped up.
> "Smile a little rose. You look prettier when you do. Even when you're pretending you don't see me."
One more message
>"How's your trip,huh? By ignoring my messages.
The phone slipped from my grip, landing on the sheets with a dull thud. My pets stirred uneasily, sensing the shift in me.
I know he knows everything—why I went on that trip, he disappeared for a year. And just when I thought he was gone for good, he decided to come back into my life.
And of course, life plays its cruel joke on me again. Every time I fight to breathe for freedom, tragedy finds me.
Here we are. Once more.
At first, I told myself I was safe. I mean, who would waste their time on me? I’m bored as hell, not worth the chase. But here we are again. He’s back. With his games.
And the worst part? I still don’t know what his next move will be.
I don’t even know his face. Not even his real name.
Because there’s one problem—after I drink, I lose my memories. It’s a curse I only realized after the last time I met my so-called stalker.
Why can’t I remember?
I dragged in a breath, but it felt jagged, broken. My brain had gone quiet this time. Too quiet.
And silence, suddenly, was the loudest thing in the room.
I stared at the screen, pulse thudding in my ears. My first instinct screamed throw the phone away. But another part of me-the reckless, sarcastic one-snatched control of my thumbs.
If he wanted a reaction, fine. He'd get one. Just not the kind he expected.
I typed.
> "Aww, thanks for the free surveillance report, Sherlock. Next time, send me the weather update too."
I hit send before I could second-guess it. My golden retriever gave a soft huff, like even he disapproved.
My phone buzzed again almost instantly.
> "That's the Siara I remember. Sharp tongue, sharp eyes. Exactly why I watch."
My lips curled into a bitter smile.
My brain: Brilliant move, genius. Taunt the stalker. What's next-invite him for tea?
I typed again, fingers steadier this time.
> "Funny. For someone who watches so much, you must be blind. Because if you think this is flattering, you're dumber than I thought."
This time, I leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen. Waiting.
Because if he wanted to play, so could I.
The typing dots appeared almost immediately. My heart stuttered, but I kept my arms folded, pretending I wasn't waiting.
Then the message came.
> "Cute pajamas. Grey with little stars. Didn't know you still wore those."
My breath caught. I glanced down at myself. Grey cotton, faded stars. Exactly what he said.
My panther shifted on the bed beside me, tail thumping lightly, as if sensing my sudden spike of nerves.
My brain: Oh yeah, totally normal. Definitely not creepy at all that he knows what you're wearing right this second.
I gritted my teeth, forcing my thumbs to move.
> "Congratulations, Sherlock 2.0. You can identify clothes. Want a medal or a brain scan?"
Send.
My pulse was racing, but at least my tone stayed sharp.
The reply came quickly.
> "The medal can wait. I already have the prize-front row seat to your little show. The way you just looked down at yourself? Perfect."
A chill swept down my spine. I fought the urge to yank the curtains shut, because that would mean admitting he was right.
So instead, I leaned back, lifted my phone, and typed:
> "Wow. You sound lonely. Should I recommend a Netflix subscription instead of me?"
My lips twitched. Sarcasm was the only thing holding me together right now.
But inside, my stomach was in knots. Because if he was telling the truth...
He wasn't just nearby.
He was watching.
Right. Now.
Another bubble popped up before I could think.
> "Don't worry, rose. I'll make sure you never feel lonely. I'm closer than you think."
My throat tightened. That one sentence wrapped around my spine like ice. I was about to type back when-
Bell,bell.
I froze. My heart leapt into my throat, palms going clammy. The pets stirred-my retriever barked once, low, uncertain, while the panther raised its head, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
Another bell. Firmer this time.
> "Open the door, Siara."
I nearly dropped my phone. The message had come the exact second the knock landed.
My brain: Congratulations, main character. You're officially in a horror movie.
I swallowed, my hand trembling as I slid off the bed. Every instinct screamed didn't open it, but my feet moved anyway, carrying me toward the door.
Another knock, and then-
A familiar voice.
"Siara? It's me. Can you open up?"
I froze mid-step. That voice. Low, steady, laced with casual patience.
I blinked, my brain scrambling.
It wasn't a stranger. It wasn't a faceless monster.
It was him.
My sister-in-law's elder brother.
My teenage crush.
The new neighbor.
Right outside my door.
I gripped the handle, my breath shaky. The phone buzzed again on the other hand. I glanced down.
> "Told you. Closer than you think."
My hand stayed on the doorknob, clammy, my breath uneven. For a second, I thought I wouldn't turn it. But something-recklessness, maybe made me twist it open anyway.
And there he was.
Rudra.
My teenage crush. My new neighbor. My sister-in-law's brother.
He stood there, tall and composed, in a crisp shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, hair slightly mushed from the evening breeze. His sharp jaw flexed as his eyes-steady, unreadable-met mine. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
But then he spoke, voice low and controlled, like he'd been rehearsing it.
"I just wanted to clearly tell you," he said, brows furrowing slightly, "that I'm here because of my work. Okay?"
I blinked at him, taken aback. My lips curved, slow and sharp, into a smirk. "Ohh, really? Finally Mr. Sheth got some senses to explain."
His brows shot up, clearly not expecting the jab.
"And by the way," I added, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, my sarcasm dripping like honey, "I was thinking the same. But now? Not anymore. Because you explain one thing..." I tilted my head, eyes narrowing slightly, "...and do something else. You know what that means, right?"
My words lingered in the air like smoke, daring him to answer.
Rudra's expression flickered-something between amusement and irritation. His lips parted, then closed again, like he was weighing his next move.
Behind me, my retriever gave a low growl, and my panther's golden eyes glowed from the shadows, locked onto him as if measuring his intent.
For a moment, it wasn't just me challenging him. It was us.
And he knew it.
I held his stare for a moment longer, smirk tugging at my lips. Rudra's jaw clenched, like he wanted to argue, but before he could, I leaned forward and whispered, "Goodnight, Mr. Sheth."
Then-click.
I closed the door in his face.
The pets padded back toward the bed like nothing happened, but my pulse was still hammering in my ears. I pressed my forehead against the wood, exhaling sharply.
My brain: Bravo, Siara. Slam the door on your teenage crush slash possible stalker. Definitely not dramatic at all.
I was about to throw my phone aside when it lit up again-this time with Sara's name.
I sighed, swiping to answer. "Sara, what now?"
Her voice came rushing through, buzzing with energy. "Don't 'what now' me! I'm calling because tonight is the night. You didn't forget, right?"
I frowned. "The night for what?"
She groaned loud enough to make me pull the phone away from my ear. "Seriously, Siara? The car race! The one we've been doing every year for the last four years? The one we haven't done for six months? We're reviving it tonight."
I blinked, thrown off for a second. "At night? You're insane."
Sara laughed. "Please. You love it. Don't act like you don't. Everyone's in another party because you know. You're not backing out, princess."
I bit my lip, glancing toward the door again. My pets had gone still, eyes sharp, like they were listening too.
"Hello?" Sara pressed. "Are you there, or did your mom confiscate your phone again?"
"I'm here," I muttered. My voice came out softer than I meant. "I just... wasn't expecting this tonight."
"Exactly why you need it," Sara shot back. "One night. One race. Come alive a little, Siara."
My lips curved despite the knot in my chest. Typical Sara. Loud. Reckless. Exactly the distraction I probably needed.
But even as I nodded to myself, a single thought gnawed at the back of my mind-
If I go out tonight, would he still be watching?
"Fine," I said at last, dragging the word out. "Yes. I'll come."
Sara squealed so loud my golden retriever jumped off the bed, barking once. "Knew it! That's my girl. Don't be late or I'll personally crash your door."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, though a smile tugged at my lips.
When the call ended, I let the silence settle again. Only this time, it felt different. Lighter. The stalker's words still clawed at my head, but the idea of the race-the rush, the chaos, the way we'd been doing it for four years-ignited something in me. Something reckless. Something alive.
I stood, stretching out stiff muscles, and padded to my closet. My panther trailed behind me like a shadow, while the retriever trotted back to his spot, curling up with a sigh.
The closet doors creaked open, and I scanned the rows of clothes. Ordinary tees. Hoodies. Dresses. And then-my eyes landed on it.
Black wide jeans. Ripped at the knees. A cropped leather jacket that hugged my frame just right. And underneath, a simple fitted top-deep red. Bold. The kind of red that said I wasn't here to blend in.
I pulled them out, holding the pieces up against myself in the mirror.
My reflection smirked back. Fierce. Defiant. Exactly what I needed tonight.
My brain: Oh, so now we're dressing like a Fast & Furious extra? Cute.
I rolled my eyes but tugged the outfit on anyway. The leather hugged my shoulders, grounding me in its weight. I laced up my boots, each knot pulling me further from the ceiling-staring Siara and closer to the one who owned the night.
When I was done, I tilted my head at my reflection.Nude Red lips. eyeliner. Hair loose, falling in waves. Dangerous enough to race, daring enough to be seen.
My heart thudded in anticipation.
But when I reached for my phone again, another notification flashed across the screen.
From the same unknown number.
> "Red suits you. I knew you'd pick it."
The smirk slipped off my face.
I stared at the message on my screen, the words pulsing back at me like they were alive.
Red suits you. I knew you'd pick it.
For a heartbeat, my stomach twisted. My fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles white.
Then I exhaled sharply and tossed it onto the bed. "Ignore," I muttered to myself. "Just ignore."
My golden retriever tilted his head at me like he didn't quite believe it, but I forced a shrug. If I gave that stalker more attention, he'd win. And tonight, I wasn't giving anyone that power.
Instead, my thoughts wandered where they always seemed to drift lately-straight to Rudra.
Why was he really here?
Sure, he'd said it was "work." Head office shifts, business expansions, whatever. But I knew better than to take Rudra's words at face value. He explained one thing and did another. Always had.
And then it clicked.
My brother.
Of course.
He had been on my case for years about security. Ever since I turned to new york he'd insisted on bodyguards, surveillance, escorts. And for four years straight, I refused. Stubbornly. Loudly. Threatened to run away if he forced it.
So maybe-just maybe-this was his new trick.
Send Rudra.
The reliable, successful, trustworthy Rudra Sheth. The perfect cover. Not a bodyguard, but a "neighbor." Not a shadow, but a familiar face.
My jaw clenched.
"Damn you, bhai," I muttered under my breath. "Still don't trust me enough, do you?"
You know bro what make me to enter is type world that once doesn't belongs to me.
The reason just gave a live every day.
I glanced at my reflection again-bold red top, leather jacket, the fire in my eyes.
If my brother thought Rudra could tame me, he clearly didn't know who I'd become in these four years.
My panther stretched across the rug, tail flicking lazily, but its eyes glowed sharp, almost approving. My golden retriever huffed like he was agreeing too.
"Exactly," I whispered to them both. "We don't need guards. We don't need anyone. We raced tonight, and that's it."
Still, even as I slipped my phone into my pocket, a single question lingered, crawling beneath my skin.
If Rudra was really here because of my brother...
Why did it feel like his reasons ran deeper?
The house was silent. Too silent.
I moved barefoot, boots dangling from one hand, careful not to let the wooden floor creak beneath me. My pets stirred but didn't protest-the panther stretched once, golden retriever flicked his tail, and both settled back down like silent allies in my escape.
The hallway light cast long shadows, and I slipped through them like a ghost, holding my breath every time a floorboard whispered under my weight. One wrong sound and Rudra-Mr. Perfectly-Timed Sheth-might catch me.
"Not tonight," I whispered to myself, clutching the keys in my fist. "Not his business."
I slid the back door open, inch by inch, until the night air kissed my skin. Cool. Freeing. A taste of rebellion waiting outside.
Just a few steps. Freedom.
I tugged on my boots, lacing them quickly, then pulled the jacket tighter around me. I glanced over my shoulder once-nothing but stillness. Perfect.
I slipped out, easing the door closed behind me.
And then-
"Where are you going, lapin?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
*********
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Lapin ,huh rudra?
The car race?
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