Nightfall at the Villa: Two Reflections

Kabita's Thoughts

The stars above looked different here.

She stood alone near the balcony that overlooked the valley. Her room was warm behind her, but she felt drawn to the cold air—maybe to freeze the fire inside her chest. Or maybe to feel something real, because everything else… everything else was slipping away.

Rajan was right.

She had already said too much. And yet, nothing at all.

She gripped the wooden railing, her knuckles white. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She had come on this trip for one reason: to win him back, somehow, in some subtle, silent way. To find the courage to whisper a truth she never dared admit before.

But when she looked into his eyes today, she didn't see love or pain. She saw fatigue. The kind of exhaustion that came from loving someone too long without it ever being returned. And she had been the reason.

She had chosen wrong in the first life. And she had punished him in this one, again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the dark. "But I don't know how to fix what I broke."

And then there was Avi.

He was everything a "perfect fiancé" should be—attentive, strong, handsome, successful. But he made her feel like a prize, not a person. He always did. And somehow, she only understood that now, when it was too late.

She remembered Rajan's face when she walked into his room earlier.

There had been no anger.

Just… disappointment.

And that was somehow worse.

---

Rani's Thoughts

Rani sat on the swing chair in the garden, legs folded beneath her, wrapped in a cream shawl. She was listening—half to the music drifting from the villa, half to the rustling leaves above. But mostly, she was watching him.

Rajan stood near the edge of the lawn, a little apart from the others, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes fixed on the stars like they held answers.

There was something about him.

Not the usual charm or confidence that boys tried to wear like cologne. Not even his kindness, though that alone made him stand out.

No, it was his silence.

It was the way he moved like someone who had seen too much and carried it quietly, like a scar stitched beneath his skin.

She had only recently become part of this friend circle, her royal background often keeping people at a distance. But Rajan never treated her like a symbol. He treated her like a person. Like she had weight.

And that mattered more than he probably knew.

But there was something else—a sadness she couldn't explain. Sometimes he smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes. And tonight, when Kabita had gone into his room and left again with her head down, Rani had caught it—that look of someone who was building a wall out of old pain.

"Who hurt you that deeply?" she murmured, her gaze softening.

She wanted to ask. Not out of curiosity, but out of something more complex. A need to understand. A need to reach into his silence and say, You're not invisible.

And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be the one who saw him fully.

Not the noble boy everyone praised.

Not the broken heart others whispered about.

But the real Rajan.

The one he no longer showed.

.

.

.

Somewhere between dreams and darkness, a sound split the night.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It wasn't thunder.

It wasn't footsteps.

It was a knock.

A knock so violent, so forceful, it sounded like the door would splinter apart.

Rajan jolted awake, heart thudding. He sat up, drenched in cold sweat, his chest heaving as if something had reached into his dreams and pulled him out by the spine. The echo of that knock still rang in the walls like a warning bell.

Another knock followed. Then another.

Three heavy blows.

Then silence.

He wasn't alone.

Lights flickered on in the hallways. The rustling of guests' movements—the quiet confusion, the hushed murmurs, the cautious unlocking of doors. The villa, which had been nothing but soft breathing and gentle mountain wind, was suddenly alive with tension.

Someone shouted, "What was that?!"

Rajan quickly threw on his hoodie and stepped out. A dozen other guests were already in the corridor. There were twenty of them total in the villa that night—half from their group, half other vacationers—and every single face was pale with fright.

That's when the question circled.

"Where's the hotel staff?"

Someone tried the landline in the main office. Dead.

Phones had signal, but no one from management picked up.

Avi was standing near the base of the staircase, his jaw clenched. "The sound… it came from upstairs."

Kabita looked around, her voice low. "Which room?"

And then, as if in answer, another knock.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Rajan flinched.

Everyone turned toward the source.

Rani's room.

It was unmistakable now—the sound was centered on her door. Violent. Furious. The kind of knocking that wasn't meant to ask for entry… but to demand it.

Kabita gasped, already starting toward the stairs. Rajan beat her to it, pushing past Avi.

"Rani!" he called out. "Rani, are you okay?!"

No answer.

Only silence.

The hallway upstairs was darker than the rest of the villa. The lights there hadn't flickered on. Even the warm lanterns set near the hallway were cold and dead, as if something had drained the electricity right from the wires.

He stepped closer to her door.

The number "13" carved on the wood shimmered faintly in the moonlight—though no one remembered any room being numbered 13 before.

"Rani?" he tried again, pressing his ear to the door.

Nothing.

Then… a low scratching sound. Like nails dragging across wood.

Rajan's skin prickled.

He reached for the handle—

And it creaked open on its own.

Inside, darkness.

The curtains had been drawn tight. No light came from within. Yet… the room didn't feel empty.

"Kabita, stay back," Rajan whispered as he stepped inside.

Others followed reluctantly, some clutching phones with flashlight apps turned on.

The bed was neatly made. The mirror was covered by a shawl. A chair was knocked over on the side. But of Rani—no sign.

Until someone noticed—

The window.

Wide open. Curtains billowing. Cold wind screaming through.

Rajan rushed to the balcony. "Rani!" he called out into the night. His voice echoed over the valley, only to be swallowed by the mountains.

Kabita stood frozen in the doorway, arms around herself. "She's gone?"

Then, behind them, a soft voice:

"No. I'm here."

Everyone turned.

Rani stood near the hallway, barefoot, in a white sleeping dress, her hair damp as if she had just come from the rain.

But her room had been locked from the inside.

Rajan's heart dropped. "Rani… where were you?"

She looked confused. "I… I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I heard knocking too. But it wasn't on my door. It was inside my dream. I thought someone was calling me from the mountains."

Her voice cracked.

"And when I woke up… I was standing in the garden."

Everyone stared.

One of the guests—an older woman—whispered something about mountain spirits and doorways that open once in a century.

Someone else suggested checking the CCTV.

But the camera system was down.

And the router was melted.

Literally melted.

---

The Tension Grows

As dawn began to color the edges of the sky, no one returned to sleep. The staff still hadn't returned. Phones continued to be unanswered. A heavy dread settled across the villa.

Rajan sat alone on the steps outside, hands folded beneath his chin.

The book he left back home had flipped to a new page before he left:

> "True love walks the edge of fear. But fear must first knock."

He hadn't thought much of it then.

But now… now it felt like a warning. A prophecy. Or worse… a rule.