The message didn't leave his mind.
It didn't fade.
Didn't blur.
Didn't become background noise.
It stayed.
Sharp. Clear. Uninvited.
---
Pranav stood in the middle of his room, staring at his phone like it had just betrayed him.
"Take care of your mother."
His jaw tightened.
"Very funny," he muttered under his breath.
Another scam? Another idiot with time to waste?
He typed quickly—
Who the hell is this?
Sent.
The message showed delivered.
Then… nothing.
No reply.
No typing indicator.
Just silence.
---
"Of course," he scoffed, throwing the phone onto the bed.
Cowards always disappeared after one line of drama.
---
But something felt… off.
Not in a dramatic, movie-like way.
In a quiet, irritating way.
Like a splinter you couldn't see—but couldn't ignore either.
---
He ran a hand through his hair and paced the room once, twice, then stopped.
"Take care of your mother."
The line replayed again.
Why that sentence?
Why not something random like "you're in danger" or "send money"?
Why mother?
---
He clenched his fists.
"Because it's obvious," he told himself. "They know. Everyone knows."
Everyone knew his mother had died.
Or at least—
That she was supposed to be dead.
---
His chest tightened slightly at the thought.
No body.
No final goodbye.
Just a crash.
A report.
And a conclusion handed to him like a receipt.
---
He grabbed his phone again.
Opened the message.
Stared at it.
As if it might explain itself if he looked hard enough.
---
"Come back safely…"
He whispered the words this time.
Slower.
More carefully.
And suddenly—
It didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded like a… promise.
---
His expression hardened instantly.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, we're not doing this."
Hope was dangerous.
Hope made people stupid.
---
A knock on the door.
Soft.
Controlled.
---
"Pranav?" Shraddha's voice.
He didn't respond.
---
Another knock.
"I know you're inside."
---
He rolled his eyes.
"Congratulations," he said loudly. "Basic observation skills."
A pause.
Then—
"I made coffee," she said.
---
He let out a short laugh.
"I don't drink sympathy."
---
"It's not sympathy."
Her tone didn't change.
Didn't defend itself.
Didn't react.
"I just made coffee."
---
Pranav walked to the door and opened it abruptly.
She stood there, holding a tray.
Two cups.
Not one.
Two.
---
His eyes immediately went to that.
Then back to her.
---
"Optimistic," he said.
"Prepared," she corrected softly.
---
For a second, neither of them spoke.
The air between them wasn't hostile.
But it wasn't comfortable either.
It was… uncertain.
---
"Move," he said finally, stepping aside.
She entered quietly, placing the tray on the table near the window.
Her movements were precise.
Careful.
Like she was afraid of disturbing something invisible.
---
"Say what you came to say," Pranav said, leaning against the wall.
"I didn't come to say anything."
"Then leave."
---
She didn't.
Instead, she picked up one of the cups and extended it toward him.
"Coffee will get cold."
---
He looked at it.
Then at her.
Then back at the cup.
---
"You always ignore people like this," he said, his tone edged now, "or am I getting special treatment?"
---
A faint smile touched her lips.
Not mocking.
Not defensive.
Just… there.
"I don't think you're someone who likes being treated normally."
---
That caught him off guard.
Slightly.
Barely.
But enough.
---
He took the cup.
Not because he wanted it.
Because refusing it would feel like losing something he couldn't define.
---
He took a sip.
It was… good.
Annoyingly good.
---
Silence settled again.
But this time, it wasn't heavy.
Just… present.
---
"You hate me," she said after a moment.
Not a question.
A statement.
---
Pranav exhaled through his nose.
"Hate is a strong word."
A pause.
"I just don't see your purpose here."
---
She nodded slowly.
As if she had expected that exact answer.
---
"That's fair," she said.
---
That irritated him more than if she had argued.
"Is it?" he snapped. "Because from where I'm standing, you walked into a house where someone died and just… stayed."
---
Her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
But her expression didn't break.
---
"I didn't walk in casually," she said quietly.
---
"Really?" he said. "Looked pretty casual from my side."
---
Another pause.
Longer this time.
---
"I know I don't belong here," she said.
And for the first time—
There was something different in her voice.
Not weakness.
Not guilt.
Something… deeper.
---
Pranav's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Then why are you here?"
---
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked toward the window.
At the same city he had been staring at earlier.
---
"Because some places," she said slowly, "don't let people leave that easily."
---
That sentence—
Didn't sound normal.
Didn't sound like something you say in casual conversation.
---
Pranav straightened slightly.
"What does that even mean?"
---
She blinked, as if returning from somewhere else.
Then looked at him again.
Soft.
Calm.
Unreadable.
---
"Nothing," she said.
---
"Don't do that," he snapped.
"Do what?"
"Say something weird and then act like it's nothing."
---
A faint exhale escaped her.
Almost like a quiet sigh.
---
"You're overthinking," she said.
---
He stepped closer.
Now the distance between them was minimal.
Not aggressive.
But not safe either.
---
"No," he said quietly. "I'm starting to think."
---
Their eyes met.
For a second—
Something shifted.
Not attraction.
Not connection.
Something else.
Something that didn't have a name yet.
---
His phone buzzed again.
The sound broke the moment instantly.
---
He stepped back, pulling it out.
Same unknown number.
Another message.
---
"Don't trust anyone in that house."
---
His heartbeat slowed.
Not faster.
Slower.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
---
He looked up at Shraddha.
She was watching him.
Not curiously.
Not suspiciously.
Just… watching.
---
"Who is it?" she asked.
---
Pranav locked his phone.
Slid it into his pocket.
---
"No one."
---
She held his gaze for a second longer.
As if trying to read something beneath the surface.
Then nodded.
---
"Alright."
---
And just like that—
She let it go.
Too easily.
---
That bothered him more than questions would have.
---
As she turned to leave, she paused at the door.
Without looking back, she said—
"Not everything that looks wrong… is."
---
And then she left.
---
The door clicked shut.
Soft.
Final.
---
Pranav stood there, unmoving.
---
"Don't trust anyone in that house."
The message echoed.
---
His eyes shifted toward the door.
Then toward the coffee cup.
Then toward the window.
---
The house didn't feel silent anymore.
---
It felt like it was listening.
---
And for the first time—
Pranav wasn't sure…
If the danger was outside
Or already inside.