When Ghosts Dream of Fire

[The Dream]

It started with ash.

Falling from a black sky.

Arpan stood barefoot in the middle of a deserted street, buildings melting into shadows around him. His breath fogged in the air, but there was no cold. Just absence.

Then came the footsteps.

Soft.

Deliberate.

And echoing with the weight of the past.

Rivan emerged from the smoke, dressed in the same clothes he'd worn the night Arpan left him—torn hoodie, cracked watch, knuckles bloodied.

"You always said we'd die together."

"You lied."

Arpan tried to speak, but no words came.

Instead, his hand lifted on its own—pointing a gun.

And in the dream, like in memory, he turned and walked away.

Then came the scream.

"ARPAN!"

Only this time, it wasn't Rivan's voice.

It was Samruddhi's.

[Reality Bleeds In]

Arpan snapped awake with a jolt.

His wrists were bound. His jaw throbbed. A faint buzz echoed in his ears—the aftermath of the knockout gas still pulsing through his bloodstream.

The room was dimly lit by a single, swinging lightbulb above. Concrete walls. A broken table in one corner. The faint hum of electricity in the wires overhead.

And across from him—she sat.

Samruddhi.

Not the girl from their stolen moments in the corridor, or the warmth of library glances, or their first kiss under the rain-soaked terrace.

This version of her looked... fractured.

Eyes rimmed red.

Lips pale.

Expression unreadable.

"Hi, Ghost," she said.

The nickname hit him like a knife.

Only three people in the world ever called him that.

Two were dead.

One sat right here.

He tried to sit up, but the ropes were tight. Industrial-grade.

"I'm getting you out," he croaked.

She tilted her head slightly. "That's sweet. But I'm not sure I want to leave."

"Samru, they're using you. He's using you."

"No." Her voice hardened. "He told me everything."

"Everything?"

She reached into her coat pocket and threw a photograph onto the floor between them.

It was a surveillance photo.

Of her.

Taken a week before she ever met Arpan.

"He knew about me before we ever met," she said. "I wasn't a coincidence. I was a mission."

He froze.

[Hours Earlier — Samruddhi's Breaking Point]

Rivan had sat with her, pouring truth into her like poison masked as honey.

He spoke in calm, calculated tones.

"He didn't fall in love with you. He studied you. Monitored you. You were a file on his desk before you were a person in his arms."

Samruddhi wanted to scream, to punch him, to run.

But part of her knew.

The way Arpan always avoided certain questions.

The way he always seemed one step ahead, even in love.

"He told me his past was gone," she whispered.

"It wasn't gone," Rivan said. "It just wore better clothes."

Then he gave her the blade.

Placed it in her hand like a lover might place a ring.

"You're not the bait, Samruddhi."

"You're the weapon."

[Now]

Arpan watched her hands.

No tremble.

No hesitation.

Just silence.

"I lied," he admitted. "About Rivan. About who I used to be. Because I didn't want the past to infect you."

"It already did," she whispered. "The moment I kissed you, I became part of your war."

She stood up slowly.

Walked toward him.

The blade caught the swinging light—flashing silver across the wall.

Arpan's breathing slowed.

"Samruddhi," he said softly, "If I could go back—"

"You can't," she interrupted.

Then the door behind her creaked.

Rivan stepped in, clapping slowly.

Wearing a grin carved from ice.

"Well done, Samruddhi," he said. "You were always smarter than him."

She didn't even turn to look at Rivan.

Her eyes were locked on Arpan.

"I have one question," she said.

Arpan nodded, heart pounding. "Ask me anything."

"If I kill you… do I finally get to leave?"

She raised the blade—

Arpan didn't flinch.

He looked at her like he did that night on the rooftop. With love. With regret.

"If that sets you free," he said, "then don't hesitate."

She screamed.

Swung.

The blade stopped mid-air—

And the lights cut out.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Only the sound of metal clattering to the floor remained.

Then...

A gunshot.

[To be continued…]