The Ones Who Watch

The room felt colder as Ravi's fingers hovered over the door handle. Raj held his breath. The voice outside was calm, almost too calm. "We don't have to do this," Raj whispered. Ravi's jaw tightened. "If we run now, we'll never know." The knocks came again—three steady beats. Then silence. Slowly, Ravi turned the handle and pulled the door open. A man in a dark suit stood there, his expression unreadable. "Ravi and Raj," he said smoothly, his gaze unwavering. "You've been asking questions. That's a problem." Raj took a step back. "Who are you?" The man's lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You already know who I am," he said, stepping inside uninvited. His presence seemed to pull the light from the room. Ravi shut the door behind him, heart pounding. "You're one of them," Ravi guessed. The man nodded. "The ones who erase." Raj clenched his fists. "What do you want?" The man ignored the question, glancing at the old cassette tape on the table. "Aarav was a mistake," he said. "A loose thread. You're pulling at it." Ravi squared his shoulders. "Then tell us the truth." The man chuckled. "The truth? You won't like it." His voice carried something sinister, something final.

Ravi's stomach twisted. "What happened to Aarav?" The man's eyes darkened. "He didn't listen." He turned his attention to the tape. "And now you're listening too." Raj stepped between them. "We're not afraid of you." The man smirked. "You should be." His hand slipped into his pocket, and for a second, Ravi thought he was reaching for a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a small envelope and placed it on the table. "Read it when you're ready," he said. "But once you do, there's no going back." Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving behind a suffocating silence.

Raj exhaled sharply. "What the hell was that?" Ravi picked up the envelope, feeling the weight of it in his palm. "I don't know," he admitted. Carefully, he opened it. Inside was a single photograph. A classroom photo, old and faded. But something was wrong. The edges were torn, and in the empty space where someone should have been, there was only a blank void. "That's Aarav," Raj murmured. "They didn't just erase him from memory… they erased him from existence." Ravi stared at the empty space. "What if he's still out there?" he asked. "What if he's trapped somewhere no one can remember?"

Raj's throat tightened. "And what if we're next?" The thought sent a shiver down both their spines. The man in the suit had found them so easily. If they weren't careful, they could disappear just as Aarav had. "We need help," Raj said. "We can't fight this alone." Ravi hesitated. Who could they even trust? Then, an idea struck him. "Meera," he said. "She knew about this. She gave us the journal. Maybe she knows more." Raj nodded. "Then we find her. Before they find us." But deep down, they both knew—this was only the beginning.

Tracking Meera wasn't easy. She had no phone, no known address. She was like a ghost. "She mentioned a safe house," Ravi recalled as they walked through the city. "Somewhere she could disappear if things got bad." Raj frowned. "And things are definitely bad now." They searched old meeting places, abandoned buildings, anywhere Meera could be hiding. Hours passed. Just when frustration began to settle in, Ravi spotted a familiar mark on a brick wall—a small, painted symbol, barely visible. "She's close," he whispered. Raj followed his gaze. "Let's hope she's still alive."

They followed the markings until they reached an old bookstore with a flickering sign. The place looked abandoned, but Ravi recognized the symbol again—this time scratched into the wooden doorframe. "This is it," he whispered. Raj knocked once, twice. No answer. "Meera?" Ravi called. Silence. Then, just as they were about to leave, the door creaked open. A pair of wary eyes peeked through. "You shouldn't have come," Meera hissed, pulling them inside before locking the door. The bookstore was dim, the shelves coated in dust. "They know about you," she said. "They'll come for you now."

Ravi held up the torn photograph. "We need answers," he said. Meera's eyes flickered to it, and for the first time, fear crossed her face. "Where did you get this?" she asked sharply. "One of them gave it to us," Raj answered. "He said once we read it, there's no going back." Meera ran a hand through her hair, cursing under her breath. "Then it's already too late," she muttered. "They won't stop until you're gone. Like Aarav." Ravi stepped closer. "But Aarav isn't just gone, is he?" Meera hesitated. "No," she admitted. "He's somewhere else. And if you want to save him, you'll have to go there too."

A chill ran down Ravi's spine. "Where is he?" Meera bit her lip. "You ever heard of the Shadow Room?" Raj frowned. "Sounds like a bad horror story." Meera didn't smile. "It's worse. It's where they send the ones who remember too much." She reached into a locked drawer, pulling out an old key. "If Aarav is still alive, this will get you to him." Ravi hesitated before taking it. "And if we go there?" Meera's voice dropped. "Then you either bring him back… or you don't come back at all."

Silence filled the room. The weight of the decision pressed down on them. They had started with questions, but now, they were standing on the edge of something much bigger. "We need to be sure," Raj said quietly. Ravi stared at the key in his palm. Aarav was out there. Forgotten, erased. But not gone. "I'm sure," Ravi said. "We're going." Raj exhaled. "Then let's do it." But as they turned to leave, a voice from the back of the store sent ice through their veins. "Too late," the voice whispered. The lights flickered. And then, the shadows moved.