Simri didn’t pull her hand away.
Not immediately.
Her fingers stayed locked in Arjun’s warm grip, even while that other invisible hold tightened around her wrist like a silent warning, and for a moment she felt completely trapped between two different realities—one she could see, touch, understand… and another that refused to disappear no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Her breathing grew uneven, her chest rising and falling faster than normal, and Arjun noticed it almost instantly.
“Simri,” he said softly, stopping in the middle of the road, turning toward her, concern written all over his face, “you’re really not okay. What’s wrong?”
She wanted to answer.
She really did.
But how do you explain something like this without sounding insane?
Kabir stepped closer.
So close that if anyone else could see him, they would think he was standing right beside her.
“You can tell him,” Kabir whispered near her ear, his voice calm, almost gentle now. “Tell him I’m right here.”
Simri clenched her jaw slightly.
“No,” she murmured under her breath.
Arjun frowned. “No… what?”
She quickly shook her head. “Nothing. I mean… I’m just tired.”
Kabir let out a soft laugh.
“Still lying,” he said.
That tiny sound—only she could hear—made something inside her snap just a little.
“Stop it,” she said suddenly, louder this time.
Arjun blinked in confusion. “Stop… what?”
Simri froze.
Realizing what she just did.
“I… I didn’t mean—” she started, but the words wouldn’t come together properly.
Kabir tilted his head, watching her with an unreadable expression.
“See?” he murmured. “You can’t hide me forever.”
Arjun’s eyes searched her face again, deeper this time, more serious.
“Simri,” he said quietly, “are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”
There was something different in his tone now.
Not just concern.
Suspicion.
And that scared her.
Because if he kept asking… if he kept looking like that… she might break.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, forcing a small smile. “Can we just… keep walking?”
Arjun hesitated.
But then he nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
They started walking again.
But nothing felt the same anymore.
—
The rest of the evening passed in a strange blur.
Simri responded when she had to, smiled when expected, nodded at things she barely heard, and all the while Kabir stayed close—sometimes walking beside her, sometimes slightly behind, sometimes so near that she could almost feel his breath against her neck, and every time Arjun laughed, every time he leaned a little closer, every time their hands brushed… Kabir’s presence grew heavier.
Darker.
Possessive.
—
When Arjun finally dropped her home, the sky had already turned deep blue, the air cooler, quieter.
“Text me when you get inside,” he said gently, his usual warmth returning, like he was trying to erase whatever strange tension had been there earlier.
Simri nodded.
“Thanks… for today.”
Arjun smiled. “Anytime.”
For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something more.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he gave her one last look… and then left.
And the moment he disappeared from sight—
The silence changed again.
Simri didn’t even need to turn around.
She already knew.
Kabir was there.
Waiting.
—
“You looked happy with him.”
His voice came from behind her, low and quiet.
Simri closed her eyes briefly before turning around.
Kabir was leaning against the gate, arms crossed, his expression calm but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.
“I was trying to be normal,” she said.
Kabir pushed himself off the gate slowly, stepping toward her.
“Normal?” he repeated softly. “Holding someone else’s hand is normal for you now?”
“That’s not fair,” she snapped, her patience finally cracking. “You weren’t even supposed to be here!”
Kabir stopped.
That… hit.
For a moment, something flickered in his expression.
Pain.
Real, sharp, undeniable pain.
“I know,” he said quietly.
Simri froze.
Because she didn’t expect that answer.
Kabir looked down for a second, then back at her.
“I know I’m not supposed to be here,” he continued. “I know I shouldn’t exist in your world anymore.”
His voice wasn’t angry now.
It was… tired.
“Then why are you here?” Simri whispered.
Kabir took a step closer.
“Because you called me.”
Her eyes widened.
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” he interrupted gently. “Every time you felt alone. Every time you wished someone would stay. Every time you whispered my name without even realizing it…”
He stopped right in front of her.
“I heard you.”
Simri’s breath hitched.
Because deep inside—
She knew.
There were nights… when she felt something missing.
When she felt like she had lost someone important but couldn’t remember who.
And maybe…
Maybe she really did call him back.
—
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said softly, her voice breaking a little.
Kabir’s eyes softened.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Simri shook her head. “There’s always a choice.”
Kabir let out a quiet breath.
“Not when it comes to you.”
Her heart skipped.
Not in a good way.
In a dangerous way.
—
Suddenly, the air around them felt colder.
Not just emotionally.
Physically.
Simri frowned slightly.
“Do you feel that?” she asked.
Kabir’s expression changed instantly.
His eyes sharpened.
“Yes.”
Something was wrong.
The night, which had been calm just moments ago, now felt… heavy.
Like something else had entered.
Something unfamiliar.
Something that didn’t belong to either of them.
A faint whisper echoed through the darkness.
But it wasn’t Kabir’s voice.
It was different.
Lower.
Distorted.
“Simri…”
Her blood ran cold.
Because this time—
Kabir wasn’t the one calling her name.
Kabir stepped in front of her immediately, his body tense, protective, his gaze scanning the empty street.
“That’s not me,” he said.
Simri’s heart started racing.
“Then… who is it?”
The whisper came again.
Closer.
“Simri…”
Kabir’s jaw tightened.
“Stay behind me,” he said firmly.
And for the first time—
Simri felt something more terrifying than Kabir’s love.
Because whatever was out there…
It knew her name too.
