• Finally, they are getting playful a little...

Gauri jolted awake, a strangled scream trapped in her throat. She sat bolt upright in bed, her hand instinctively reaching for the water bottle on her nightstand, only to find it empty. A dry, rasping cough escaped her lips. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked out of her room. The corridor was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the ancient lanterns, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe in her peripheral vision. She didn't bother taking her phone.

Another door creaked open down the hall, and Arya peered out, his brow furrowed with concern. "Gauri? You okay? I heard… something." Gauri managed a weak smile and a slight nod, trying to convey that everything was alright, even though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She continued her silent walk downstairs towards the kitchen, the air growing noticeably colder as she descended. Standing before the old wooden cabinet, she refilled her water bottle from the filtered dispenser. The cool water felt soothing as she splashed it on her face in the sink, wiping away the lingering remnants of the terrifying dream.

"Stop it," she muttered to herself, scolding her overactive imagination. "Veda was right. All this tension is getting to me. I'm starting to see things."

She froze mid-wipe, a familiar prickling sensation crawling up her spine. She felt a presence behind her again, that same suffocating feeling from the basement. But before she could even turn, her back was pressed firmly against a broad, solid chest. A heavy arm snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. She could feel the steady rhythm of a heartbeat against her back, the subtle rise and fall of a powerful chest. Panic flared within her.

She tried to step forward, to create some distance, but the grip tightened, pressing her even more intimately against the unseen figure, who seemed to be leaning his weight onto her. A chin rested lightly on her shoulder, warm breath ghosting near her ear, sending shivers down her spine. A low rumble vibrated through the manly chest pressed against her back.

Gauri squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to quell the rising tide of panic. When she finally fluttered her eyelids open, her vision slightly blurred with fear, she glanced down at her waist. A strong, corded arm encircled her, the dark fabric of a black blazer sleeve visible. Several simple rings adorned the thumb and two of the fingers.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the oppressive feeling vanished. The arm was gone. The warmth against her back dissipated into the cool kitchen air. Gauri whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs, desperate to see what – or who – had been there. But there was nothing. The kitchen was empty, save for Isha, who stood a few feet away, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Gauri? Are you okay?" Isha rushed towards her, her voice laced with worry.

Gauri forced a weak smile and shook her head, trying to appear composed. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Just a little… dizzy for a second." But the lie felt heavy and unconvincing even to her own ears.

That night, Gauri found herself back in Isha's room, the familiar comfort of her sister's presence a desperate shield against the unseen terrors that seemed to be lurking in the shadows of Swarg Sadan. She couldn't bring herself to sleep alone anymore. The feeling of that arm around her, the breath near her ear, had been too real, too tangible to dismiss as mere imagination. Sleep came fitfully, haunted by the lingering sensation of an unwelcome embrace in the silent, ancient castle.

The next morning, the atmosphere downstairs was surprisingly lighthearted. Gauri entered the kitchen to find Jai and Arya engaged in some sort of culinary performance. Arya stood by the stove, dramatically flipping pancakes while fake tears streamed down his face. Isha stood beside him, wielding a frying pan like a weapon, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Jai was leaning against the counter, watching the scene with amusement.

"What in the world is going on here?" Gauri asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Isha and Jai launched into a simultaneous explanation. Apparently, Arya had made the grave mistake of mocking Isha's cooking, declaring it tasted "horrible." Jai, ever the supportive friend, vehemently disagreed, proclaiming Isha's culinary creations to be "delicious." Arya, in response, had launched into his Oscar-worthy fake crying routine.

Gauri chuckled, shaking her head at their antics. "Alright, alright, enough bullying. Arya, stop being such a drama queen."

Instantly, Arya latched onto Gauri, hugging her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder, his fake sobs intensifying. In a sneaky move, he swiped his tear-streaked face against her dupatta, earning him a playful smack on the arm from Isha. Gauri just laughed, the momentary lightness a welcome respite from the unsettling events of the past few days.