11. Move and statue.

The silence of the room enveloped her like a heavy blanket, amplifying her feelings of isolation. Aditi stared at the blank page in front of her, the words she longed to express trapped behind a wall of fear and confusion. The dim light from the desk lamp cast long shadows, making the corners of the room feel even more claustrophobic. She felt like a prisoner in her own life, confined not just by the walls of this hideout but by the uncertainty that loomed over her.

As she sat there, her mind raced with questions that had no answers. Who could want to harm her? What had she done to deserve this? The memories of her life before this chaos flooded her thoughts—her laughter with friends, the warmth of family gatherings, the simple joys of everyday life. Now, all of that felt like a distant dream, replaced by a reality that was dark and suffocating.

Aditi picked up her pen, tapping it against the desk in frustration. She wanted to write about her feelings, to pour her heart out onto the page, but the words eluded her. Instead, she found herself scribbling random thoughts, a jumbled mess of emotions that mirrored her state of mind. 

"Why me?" she wrote, underlining it multiple times. "What do they want?" The questions echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. She felt like a character in a thriller novel, but this was her life, and there was no plot twist that would save her.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from the other room, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Aditi's heart raced as she turned her head toward the door, her breath hitching in her throat. It was Arjun. She could always tell when he was near; there was a sense of calm that accompanied his presence, even in the midst of chaos.

"Hey," he said softly as he entered the room, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "How are you holding up?"

Aditi shrugged, trying to mask her vulnerability. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Arjun stepped closer, his eyes searching hers for the truth. "You don't have to pretend with me, Aditi. I know this is hard."

She looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I just… I don't understand any of this. I feel so lost."

He nodded, his expression softening. "I get it.

She was more worried about Atharva than herself. 

"Is he okay? I haven't talked to him in ages. I didn't want to burden him with my problems. But now, I'm scared too... No, no, no. Arjun promised he'd be safe. I believe in Arjun. I really do. What would I do without him? It must've been a mix-up. They probably confused me with someone else."

As she looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings, the gravity of the situation hit her. The house was set up so that only Aditi could see outside the window; no one could see her or her tears. She felt trapped. Memories of her early days in the hospital flooded back. Back then, she was stuck in bed, but at least Yash, Atharva, and Shikha di were there with her. Now, she was all alone. Gripping the window railings, her tears began to fall faster.

"Not again! It's happening all over again. I spent my childhood like this, and just when I was finally finding the courage to live peacefully... all this chaos starts again. I've never been rude to anyone. I've never raised my voice... so why is this happening?"

Suddenly, the door opened, and she turned to see Arjun standing there with a box of tissues.

"Here, take this," he said, handing her the box. She took it and asked, "How did you know I was..."

"The tracer. It beeped. My first thought was that maybe... you were crying." Aditi realized he was aware of everything. She glanced around, trying to regain control over her tears.

"Cry if you need to," he said gently, taking her hand and pulling her close to him.

"It's okay to let it out. I won't judge you." She melted into his embrace, sobbing heavily. He was her last hope, and she felt safe in his arms, unaware of his true motives. She trusted him completely; after all, he was her savior. Meanwhile, he couldn't help but smirk at her vulnerability.

Arjun's POV:

"I was hoping to turn your world upside down. But it looks like you're already a bit of a disaster, Mrs. Mehra."

That thought crossed my mind as I took in her frail state.

The night faded away, giving way to a new day.

I was lounging at my desk in my room, shirtless, with the morning sun streaming in. One hand held a gun, the other a cigarette. I dialed Rohan.

"Did you track down that guy I mentioned?" I asked.

"Yeah, boss. He was a big deal in India—one of the most celebrated poets and authors. He wrote tons of stories about strong heroes to motivate the youth. But after his wife passed away, his writing took a dark turn. He fell into such a deep depression that he neglected his kids and eventually just vanished."

"What do you mean by 'vanished'? Is he still alive? Did you manage to locate him?"

"No, boss. We scoured the whole country but came up empty. Officially, he's considered dead since no one has seen him. But his body is still missing."

That's odd. Dead but no body? Something doesn't add up. I needed to find out if he was still out there. There were secrets tied to this man that could connect two worlds.

"Keep looking for him. I want every detail. And what about that 'D'?"

"Just give me a bit more time, boss. This person is definitely not easy to track down."

"Alright. I'll head to the office today, and we'll dig into it together."

"Got it, boss," Rohan replied before hanging up.

I tossed the cigar into the trash and cleaned my gun with a cloth. Then I heard a voice.

"Arjun, are you in there? Are you awake?"

"Great, what does she want now?" I thought, feeling a wave of irritation just from hearing her voice.

You can come in, I said, keeping the gun lowered. She wasn't going to help me find anything about the 'Door', and I was ready to get rid of her soon. But first, I needed to uncover the whole truth, which meant keeping her alive. And that bastard behind her? I wanted to beat him until he was bleeding. I'll admit, this 'D' is a worse enemy for Aditi. Without me, she'd be a goner. I have to say, I didn't mind seeing her squirm a little.

She creaked the door open, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I wanted to ask you something..." She glanced around and noticed I was shirtless.

"What is it?"

"Can I take off my necklace when I shower?"

"Sure, but let me know whenever you do. Don't just take it off without telling me."

"Okay. Are you heading out?" she asked, eyeing me.

"Yeah, I've got some stuff to take care of. Just remember, don't leave the house for any reason. Don't open the door for anyone but me. Got it?"

"Yeah," she mumbled quietly.

As I walked toward the bathroom to get ready, she called out, "Actually, I've always wanted to ask... why do you have so many scars on your back? How did you get them?" I stopped in my tracks.

Is she really asking about the scars she gave me? I could still remember the moment my comrades turned on me, branding me a traitor. It was one of the most painful times in my life, right after losing my family. Those scars tell the story of my suffering. Anger surged through me, and I felt like I could explode. But I kept my cool.

I moved closer to her, locking eyes. With each step I took, she backed away until she hit the wall. She tried to escape, but I trapped her between my arms. What was I doing? My anger was pushing me to the edge.

Her gaze was fixed on my scars, filled with concern and emotion. The very person who caused them was now asking how I got them.