A Warning

Bhoomika toweled her hair before the mirror. She’d just finished a quick shower. It was her habit to do so before bed.

The rain was deafening with occasional flashes of lightning flooding the gloomily lit room. Yet, Bhoomika wasn’t aware of the man’s reflection in the mirror. She was standing with her back to the door. It wasn’t until the stench of cigarettes hits her that she realized she wasn’t alone. When she caught his steely gaze in the mirror, her heart lurched in surprise.

She dared not turn around. There was something very intimidating about him that she couldn’t hold his gaze. Was it his piercing stare? Or his overbearing masculinity? Or something much more terrifying?

Smirking back at her through the mirror, he quietly slipped closer, making her heart beat harder and her breaths shallower. He wrapped an arm around her soft, cold waist, tipped her chin towards him, and planted a gentle kiss. She didn’t reciprocate. Instead, she just stood frozen, as if that’s what was expected of her.

He left a trail of kisses down her neck when he noticed something. “Where’s your mangalsutra,” he questioned, pausing.

“In the drawer,” she responded meekly.

His face darkened, and he looked as though a storm were brewing inside him. He resumed kissing her, but she simply couldn’t respond to his touch. She was rigid and unresponsive as a corpse.

He held her face and rummaged for her tongue with his. She flinched and recoiled. Her heart quickened when she felt his fingers tighten around her neck. By the time she realized what was happening, he had clamped his hands shut around her throat.

***

When Dev snapped out of his nightmare, he was face-down on the pillow and freezing. It took a moment to come to his senses, to realize where he was, to understand that it was a fresh day. He rolled over to his phone on the side table and picked it up, checking the time. It was past 7:00 AM and a Saturday.

He shivered a little from having slept under the fan through a night of heavy downpour. He pulled the covers over him and snuggled. The setting was perfect to sleep through the day, but something nagged him. That nightmare!

It had felt chillingly real, disturbing, as if he were there in that room, watching everything and feeling so helpless. But why did I dream of her, and like this...?

He recollected being worried stiff the previous night. That man, whoever he was, had given him a glare from hell, as though he was caught red-handed with her in bed. His behavior towards her too wasn’t right. Everything about him was wrong.

What if he hurt her based on assumptions, he wondered. But why, she didn’t do anything wrong, and nor did I. But what if...?

There was only one way he could know. Pulling the covers off, he shuffled out of bed.

***

In an hour, he was in a pair of formals and ready to go. He headed to the shoe rack to get his shoes when he realized that his roommate was back from work. He just didn’t know when. Judging from the state of the living room, he’d say ‘pretty late’.

A chef uniform lay carelessly on the couch. Shoes dripping wet from last night’s downpour were kicked around. Samir was one of the chefs in a 2-star restaurant in town. People loved that place. The food was great. Dev himself had carried out lunch on many occasions. However, the place was miserable for its people. The workload was horrendous and the pay was insulting.

He eyed the sorry state of Samir’s shoes while pulling on his own. He was getting late, yet, he couldn’t kick off the nagging urge to keep those dripping shoes in the sun. Giving in, he swiped it up and placed it under a hot sun on the balcony. Before walking out the door with his laptop, he dropped a text message to Samir. “Your shoes are in the sun, man. It was messed up. See you in the evening.”

***