Sleep was a country I couldn't afford to visit. The night bled into a grey, gut-wrenching dawn, and I was still awake, a sentinel in my own room. The sly, predatory smirk was burned onto the back of my eyelids. Every creak of the building, every distant car horn, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through my system. I kept the window firmly latched, the curtains drawn, but it didn't matter. I felt exposed. I felt like I was standing naked in the middle of the colony square, and that woman, that silhouette, was pointing and laughing.
When Devi's alarm went off, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I heard her moving around in her room, the familiar sounds of her morning routine now sounding like the soundtrack to my impending doom. She was humming. Of course she was humming. She was blissfully unaware that her pathetic stepson had been caught in a compromising act by a mystery voyeur with a killer smile.
I forced myself out of bed, my limbs stiff and heavy. I looked like shit. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale. I needed coffee. I needed about a gallon of it.
Devi was in the kitchen, already dressed for school, her hair in a neat, professional bun. "Morning, sleepyhead!" she chirped, her voice entirely too cheerful. "Rough night?"
"You could say that," I mumbled, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
"Well, try not to look so morose," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "It's a beautiful day. The world is your oyster, and all that jazz."
Yeah, right. My oyster had a fucking pearl of blackmail in it.
I couldn't focus on anything. All through breakfast, my eyes kept darting towards the living room window. I was drawn to it, a moth to a very, very dangerous flame. Every time a car passed, I flinched. Every time a bird flew past the window, I held my breath. I was a nervous wreck.
After Devi left for work, the apartment felt too small, too quiet. I paced the living room like a caged animal, my coffee cold and forgotten in my hand. I had to know. I had to see if she was there.
I crept over to the window, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly, carefully, parted the curtains, just a sliver. I peered out, my eyes scanning the house across the street.
Nothing.
The balcony was empty. The curtains in her living room were drawn. There was no sign of her. A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost made my knees buckle. Maybe I had imagined it. Maybe it was a stress-induced hallucination. A waking dream born of guilt and too much porn.
But I knew it wasn't. I knew what I saw.
I spent the rest of the morning in a state of heightened anxiety. I couldn't eat. I couldn't read. I just kept pacing, my mind a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios. What if she told Devi? What if she told everyone in the colony? I'd be a pariah. The Pervert of Suvarna Colony. I'd have to pack my bags and go live with my cowardly father in Dubai.
Around noon, Devi came home for lunch. She took one look at me and her smile faltered. "Sid, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I lied, my voice cracking. "Just… tired."
She didn't look convinced, but she let it go. We ate in silence, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I knew I had to ask her. I had to know.
"Devi?" I began, my voice a little too high. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," she said, her eyes full of concern.
"Do you… do you know everyone in the colony?"
She laughed, a light, musical sound that did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves. "Pretty much. It's a small place. Why do you ask?"
"There's… there's a woman," I said, my heart pounding in my chest. "Across the street. In the house with the red door."
Devi's expression changed instantly. Her smile vanished, replaced by a look of… something. It wasn't anger, and it wasn't fear. It was a kind of weary, resigned annoyance.
"Ah," she said, her voice flat. "Janaki."
Janaki. So she had a name.
"Do you know her?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Everyone knows Janaki," Devi said, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "She's… a character."
"What does that mean?" I pressed.
"It means she's trouble, Sid," she said, her eyes locking with mine. "She's a gossip, a meddler. She thrives on drama. She likes to… stir things up."
I felt a cold knot of dread form in my stomach. "What kind of drama?"
Devi hesitated, her gaze drifting towards the window. "Let's just say that things have a way of… happening around her. Things that are best left alone."
She looked back at me, her expression stern. "I need you to promise me something, Sid. I need you to stay away from her. Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her. Just… pretend she doesn't exist."
"But why?" I asked, my voice a little desperate. "What did she do?"
"It's not what she did," Devi said, her voice firm. "It's what she does. She's a poison, Sid. A beautiful, charming, deadly poison. And I don't want you anywhere near her."
A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost made me dizzy. Devi didn't know. She couldn't know. If she did, she wouldn't be warning me away with vague, ominous threats. She would be screaming at me, packing my bags, and shipping me off to the nearest military school.
"Okay," I said, my voice a little too eager. "I'll stay away. I promise."
"Good," Devi said, her expression softening. "Now, I have to get back to the school. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"
"I'll do my best," I said, grinning at her.
She laughed, a bright, beautiful sound that made my chest ache. "Okay. I'll see you tonight."
And then she was gone, and the apartment was once again silent. But this time, the silence wasn't suffocating. It was comforting. I was safe. Devi didn't know. And she would never believe Janaki, even if she did say something. Who would take the word of a "poisonous" gossip over the word of her poor, traumatized stepson?
I was in the clear. I was home free.
I collapsed onto the sofa, a wide, triumphant grin spreading across my face. I had dodged a bullet. A big, black, bullet-shaped Janaki.
I was so lost in my own relief that I didn't hear the knock on the door.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. A faint, hesitant rap. I ignored it, figuring it was just a delivery guy with the wrong address.
But then it came again. Louder this time. More insistent. *KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.*
I sighed, dragging myself off the sofa. It was probably just someone trying to sell me a subscription to some magazine I didn't want. I walked to the door, my annoyance growing with every step.
I flung the door open, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off.
And my blood ran cold.
It was her.
Janaki.
She was standing on my doorstep, a sly, predatory smirk on her face. She was even more beautiful up close. Her skin was fair, almost milky, with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her lips were full and painted a bold, blood-red. Her hair was in its usual tight braid, and her eyes… her eyes were a sharp, piercing green, and they were fixed on me with an unnerving, predatory intensity.
"Hello, Sid," she purred, her voice a low, husky growl that sent shivers down my spine. "Having some fun time, are we?"