"Kabhi kabhi purani yaadein kuch naye kadiyan khol jaati hai"

~ Meher ~

Mumbai, India

I was safe, inside the confines of my home.

I had been working from home since a few days, Dev had emailed me some documents to check up on and also dropped some files this morning which required my signatures.

I was traumatised by what happened at the brothel, yet my mind had a new thing to worry about.

As I stared at the files on my desk, a wave of unease washed over me. The words blurred before my eyes as my mind drifted back to those messages— those chilling words from the justice killer that had woven a fear so deep inside me, that I could feel it in my bones.

Everyone has a secret to die for.

I couldn't shake those words out of my head. The words had taken residence in my head, circling endlessly like a storm I couldn't escape.

I was constantly haunted by the notion that I could be next. That one day, I would be the killer's next target. My throat tightened, and I instinctively glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to be lurking in the shadows. Kabir had assured me I was safe, that he would never let anything happen to me, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Everything was adding up, and none of the problems were fading away. He was as rattled as I was, even if he tried to hide it.

Every time I felt the fear creeping back, I reached for that memory of his arms around me, the warmth and strength that radiated from him as he held me close, banishing my nightmares. Yet, the thought of his calm, lethal gaze as he pulled the trigger on those men flashed into my mind, and I couldn't decide if I felt safer or more afraid. Kabir was capable of violence— undeniable and deadly violence— but I couldn't deny that I felt protected when I was with him.

The sound of my phone vibrating pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen to see a new text message. My heart pounded as I picked up the phone, dreading that it might be another message from the killer. But it was only Aryan, asking how I was holding up. I wanted to reassure him, to tell him everything was fine, but I knew he would see through my words.

I knew Aryan was struggling as well. He had been livid when he'd seen my bruises, his fury barely contained as he drafted those papers against Officer Mistry. The way I recoiled away when he came close, broke his heart a million times.

I'd had to plead with him to let it go, to convince him that seeking revenge wouldn't make the pain disappear. But part of me wondered if he had truly let it go or if he was planning something behind my back. Aryan had always been protective of me, even if his protection was sometimes as relentless as it was suffocating. The thought of him making a reckless decision, of him ending up in trouble because of me, gnawed at my conscience.

I sighed and forced myself to focus on the files in front of me, but the words still refused to stick in my mind. Instead, my eyes kept drifting to the window, where I could see the bodyguards patrolling the grounds outside. The security measures had been ramped up ever since the incident, but no amount of guards could ease the gnawing fear in my chest.

Yet, the justice killer's message lingered, taunting me.

Everyone has a secret to die for.

What secret?

Should I know something?

The thought of being under his watchful eye, of him knowing things about me that even I hadn't fully acknowledged, sent a chill down my spine.

In the distance, I heard the sound of the door opening up. My breath caught, and I strained to hear. The footsteps that followed were familiar, steady— Kabir's. Relief washed over me, and I exhaled, relaxing ever so slightly as I heard him entering the house.

He found me in the study, leaning against the doorway with his usual quiet strength. His eyes softened as he looked at me, taking in my tense posture and the way my fingers were twisted together in my lap.

"Meher, you don't have to keep punishing yourself like this," he murmured, crossing the room and sitting beside me. His hand reached out, gentle, and comforting, and I felt my guard slipping away under his touch.

"I can't help it, Kabir," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I keep thinking about it. But it's not just that, it's about everything that's happened. The brothel, the text messages from the killer, everything."

His jaw clenched, and a flicker of something dark passed through his gaze. "I won't let anything happen. Do you trust me?"

I nodded, but the doubt gnawed at me. It wasn't that I didn't trust Kabir— it was that I didn't trust the world around us. I didn't trust the shadows lurking in every corner, or the invisible eyes that seemed to watch my every move. The justice killer was out there somewhere, and no amount of reassurance could take that fear away.

"I want to believe that," I said softly, my voice wavering. "But these messages they're personal, Kabir. It's like he knows me. Like he's watching me, waiting for me to do something. It frustrates me to think if I should know something."

And the feeling of someone knowing you so closely and you have no idea about them makes me feel terrified of the unknown. I can't let another trauma attack me.

Kabir's hand tightened around mine, his grip grounding me. "Whoever this person is, they're trying to scare you, to manipulate you. But you're stronger than this, Meher. Don't let him get inside your head."

Something about that night in the brothel broke a part of me and brought something new as well.

My confidence was shattered and a new kind of fear was instilled.

The fear of the unknown.

I swallowed hard, trying to absorb his words. I wanted to believe him, but the fear was too deeply rooted. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the justice killer's words scrawled in blood, taunting me with their ominous message.

"Kabir, what if he's right?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, my own doubt betraying me. "What if there's something I'm missing? Some secret that I don't even know about?"

Kabir looked at me, his gaze intense, as though he could see straight into my soul. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. You're not alone, Meher."

The warmth of his words soothed me, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. But as Kabir pulled me into his embrace, I couldn't help but wonder if even his strength would be enough to protect us from the darkness closing in.

The files lay forgotten on the desk as I leaned into Kabir, drawing comfort from his presence. Yet, even as he held me, the justice killer's words echoed in my mind, a reminder that no matter how safe I felt, there were secrets that had yet to be uncovered— secrets that could destroy everything I held dear.

Even if his words could soothe my fear at the moment, the fear never left my heart.

And as the shadows lengthened outside the window, I had a strange feeling that our time was running out.

* * *

The morning sunlight trickled in through the open window, casting a warm, soft glow over the room as I curled up with my book. I had intended to focus, to lose myself in its pages, but my mind kept wandering back to things that weren't on the page. Somewhere between the lines, a familiar memory slipped into view— a recollection of one of the countless days I'd spent with Tara. Before I even realized it, the book in my hands grew heavy, and my gaze drifted into the distance, fully surrendering to the memory.

It was a few years ago, on a day that had felt as unremarkable as any other.

It was a few days before she died.

I was at Tara's apartment, a cosy, modest space she'd decorated in a quiet, elegant style that somehow perfectly matched her. She'd insisted on living alone, cherishing the independence and privacy it provided, though sometimes I wondered if being alone was too much for her. I'd never pressed her on it, though—Tara had always been a private person, even with me.

We were sprawled out on her living room floor, surrounded by a sea of papers, textbooks, and coffee mugs, attempting to study for our final exams. The television hummed quietly in the background, playing some muted documentary we weren't paying attention to. The air smelled faintly of incense and vanilla, a comforting scent that Tara loved and that now instantly reminded me of her. In the middle of our piles of notes, she abruptly sat up, stretching her arms and yawning.

"Ugh, why did I sign up for this class again?" she groaned, rubbing her temples dramatically. "Statistics was supposed to be my easy subject, not whatever this is."

I laughed, flipping through my own stack of notes. "Yeah, maybe because someone didn't read the syllabus? You knew what you were getting into."

She rolled her eyes at me, her expression playful. "Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in. Anyway, you're the smart one here. You would have managed anyway. But lucky you, you're still doing your bachelors."

Her teasing never failed to make me laugh. "Sure, blame it on me," I said, grinning. "Want a study partner and an alibi? I'll send you my bill."

Tara rolled her eyes, nudging me lightly. "You're impossible."

After a few more attempts at serious studying, she finally sighed and announced she was going to make us tea, proclaiming we'd earned it. As she disappeared into the kitchen, I leaned back against the couch, feeling the familiar comfort of her apartment around me. There was something so intrinsically peaceful about being there like the space held a part of me as much as it held a part of her. Despite the mess we'd created with our books and scattered assignments, her apartment had this calmness about it— a small sanctuary, far from the chaos of the outside world.

When she returned with the tea, I could tell something was off. She handed me my cup and sat cross-legged across from me, taking a deep sip of her own drink. The silence between us stretched a little too long, her gaze fixed on the steam swirling up from her mug. Usually, Tara couldn't go five minutes without chattering about something, be it the latest show she was watching or a random philosophical question she'd been pondering.

"So..." she began, her voice unusually soft, her eyes still not meeting mine. "Have you ever thought ab-about where you'll be a year from now? You know, what your life will look like?"

The question caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but laugh, thinking she was joking. "A year from now? Tara, I can barely think about next week, let alone next year."

But Tara didn't laugh. Instead, she offered a faint, almost wistful smile, her gaze drifting toward the window. She sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup absently.

"No, I mean it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I keep thinking about the future, where we're all going to end up. Sometimes, it's just so hard to imagine myself being around for it."

I blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. Tara, who always seemed so confident, so self-assured. She had this magnetic personality, someone who seemed destined for great things, for a bright future. Hearing her speak this way didn't feel right; it felt like I was seeing a version of her I'd never seen before— a fragile, almost wounded side of her.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning. "Are you...are you okay?"

For a moment, her expression faltered, and I thought she might open up, might tell me what was truly on her mind. Her eyes flickered, darkened as if she was about to let me in on some deep, hidden truth. But just as quickly, she seemed to catch herself, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Just— just me being stupid, I guess," she said with a laugh that sounded forced, hollow. "Don't mind me. I've probably just been overthinking things again."

"Tara, you know you can tell me anything, right?" I said, reaching out to place a hand on hers. She looked down at our hands, her fingers barely moving in response.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, she was silent, her gaze distant. It was like she was somewhere else, far beyond this apartment, trapped in a place I couldn't reach. Finally, she pulled her hand away and shrugged, trying to brush it off.

"It's nothing, really," she repeated, her voice more stable this time. "I've just been a little distracted lately. You know how it is."

I nodded, though I didn't fully understand. I could sense something deeper, something darker, lurking beneath her words. But I didn't want to push. Tara had always been private, and I knew from experience that pushing her would only make her withdraw even further. So, I let it go, focusing back on our studies even as a quiet unease settled over me.

But the more I thought about it, the more her words echoed in my mind. *I don't know if I'll be around to see it.* It wasn't just an offhand comment; it was a confession, a glimpse into a part of her that she'd kept hidden from everyone. I wanted to ask her, to demand answers, but I was afraid of what I might uncover.

The rest of our study session continued without incident, though there was an odd, lingering tension in the air. Tara seemed to force herself into her usual playful demeanor, cracking jokes and teasing me about my endless note-taking, but her laughter didn't sound right. It was hollow, brittle, as if it might shatter at any moment.

As the day wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Tara was hiding something from me— something big, something that weighed heavily on her. But every time I tried to bring it up, she would quickly change the subject, distracting me with a funny story or a witty remark. It was like she was trying to build a wall between us, keeping me at arm's length.

Later that evening, as I was gathering my things to leave, Tara hesitated, her hand reaching out as if she wanted to say something. I paused, waiting, hoping she would open up. But she simply smiled, her eyes reflecting a sadness I couldn't quite understand.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" she said softly, her voice barely audible.

I nodded, feeling a lump rise in my throat. "Of course. You too, Tara."

As I left her apartment, I felt a strange emptiness settle over me, like I'd left a piece of myself behind. Even as I walked down the hallway, her face lingered in my mind—the look in her eyes, the unspoken words that hung between us.

The memory faded as I sat there, the book forgotten in my lap, my heart heavy with regret. How had I missed the signs? Tara had been struggling, battling something far more complex than I'd ever imagined. I'd seen the shadows in her eyes and heard the sorrow in her voice, but I'd dismissed it as a passing moment, a fleeting sadness.

What was it that bothered her so much on that?

Why didn't she tell me anything?

The thought of her not telling me anything was frustrating to the core.

The book slipped from my hands, landing on the floor with a soft thud. My chest felt tight, the weight of guilt pressing down on me. I had been her best friend, the person she should have been able to turn to, yet I had let her slip through my fingers. I had let her pain go unnoticed, hidden beneath layers of laughter and jokes.

What was it that Tara had been hiding? What secret had been too painful for her to share, even with me? And why had she been so certain that she wouldn't be around to see the future?

I couldn't answer those questions, but I knew one thing for certain: Tara's memory deserved justice. She had been more than just a friend; she had been a sister, a confidante, a guiding light in my life. And whatever secrets she had taken to the grave, I was determined to uncover them.

Back then, I thought that whatever happened that day was something that made her feel so depressed that she committed suicide. But it wasn't a suicide after all. It was a well planned murder, Sahil had written it and I believe it.

But this time I wouldn't be left in the dark to rely upon things that could actually help. I am going to butt my head in every way.

I'll find out the truth, Tara.

No matter where it leads, I'll find out what you were hiding.

And here it is an end to another chapter. It's a mandatory birthday post. It took me the entire day to write this so I hope that you guys enjoyed reading. Meher recalling a memory of the past? What was Tara hiding? Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

I turned 22 today. Suddenly I feel very old. Just a few years ago I was 15-16, trying to find joy in life and today I am in my twenties, struggling in each phase of life. Life has become so much hectic that now it becomes very difficult to breather and survive.

But the lesson is, we need to keep going.

Please VOTE, SHARE and COMMENT. Comment a heart if you enjoyed reading this chapter.

With Love,

Akii.