Chapter 4
The faint flicker of diyas cast uneven shadows across the walls, and the air smelled faintly of sandalwood and old secrets.
Pandit Harinarayan, standing at the edge of the living room, looked at Aariv for a long moment before speaking. His eyes, deep with intuition, narrowed slightly.
Aariv’s footsteps faltered. “ye yahan kya kr rhe hain?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the wind rattling the windows.
As if drawn by the whisper, Harinarayan’s eyes rose to meet his. For a fraction of a second, the world went still. Aariv felt a strange shiver climb up his spine. Those eyes… calm, knowing, almost as if they were seeing right through him.
The charged silence broke when soft footsteps echoed from the pooja room. Shanti Rathore emerged, her gentle smile instantly breaking the tension that had coiled in the air.
“Beta, aap log documentary ke liye aaye ho?” she asked warmly, folding her hands with motherly affection.
Aariv quickly straightened, his voice respectful yet polite. “Yes, ma’am. We will take some photos.”
Yug, who had been equally struck by the mansion’s aura, nodded along in agreement.
Shanti’s gaze lingered on Aariv, her eyes softening. Aah kitna sundar chehra hai bilkul kisi farishte jaisa she thought. There was something about his calm eyes, his gentle tone, that felt different from anyone who had ever stepped into these walls.
“Bahut accha,” she said, her smile widening. “Aaiye, pehle baith jaiye. Thoda aaram kijiye.”
She guided them inside, her sari rustling softly as she led them toward the sitting area. Aariv and Yug exchanged a quick look both polite enough not to refuse.
Moments later, the sound of footsteps echoed again firmer this time.
Rajnath entered, his presence commanding without needing a word.
With him came Rudra, his mischievous eyes already glinting with interest at spotting new faces, and Ridha, graceful and composed, carrying the quiet dignity of an elder sister.
The newcomers welcomed greetings politely. Rajnath acknowledged Aariv and Yug with a nod of respect, while Rudra’s smirk hinted at the playful banter already forming in his head. Ridha’s smile was gentle, almost protective, as if she could already sense something unspoken.
Yet through it all, Harinarayan’s gaze never left Aariv. His eyes followed the boy with an intensity that made Aariv’s skin prickle. It wasn’t hostility, but it wasn’t kindness either. It was as though he was measuring him, reading him, searching for something only he knew.
Aariv shifted uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his camera strap, trying to shake off the strange weight of that stare. He could feel it drilling into him even as conversations floated around.
Why… why does it feel like he knows me? Aariv thought, uneasiness curling in his stomach.
But somewhere deep inside though he would never admit it there was another feeling too. A feeling as though stepping into this mansion, locking eyes with that pandit, was the beginning of something that could never be undone.
After some time
Rajnath deep voice softened as he said, “Beta, take as many photos as you want. Make the best documentary.”
Aariv’s lips curved into a shy, sweet smile. “Okay, sir , we will try.” he said softly, and for a fleeting moment even Rudra tilted his head, amused by the boy’s innocent charm.
Shanti turned to Rudra. “Rudra, tu in logon ko pura mansion ghuma de pictures lene ke liye.”
Rudra’s smirk widened. “Okay, maa,” he said, deliberately dragging the word with a playful drawl.
Yug rolled his eyes so dramatically it almost made Ridha chuckle. Leaning toward Aariv, he muttered under his breath, “Kuchh jyada smart nahin samajhta ye khud ko.”
Aariv elbowed him lightly. “Chup kar, Yug. Kitne achhe se toh bol rahe hain.”
Yug scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tujhe toh sab log hi achhe lagte hain.”
The remark wasn’t as private as Yug intended.
Rudra, sharp as ever, caught it and smirked wider.
He walked closer, lowering his head just enough so only Yug could hear.
His tone was smooth, teasing. “meri smartness baad me dekh lijiyega ko rok rha hai ?
Par work is important so pehle mansion dekh lijiye. "
Yug blinked, caught off guard, then quickly scoffed again to cover it. “lagta hai bohot badi galatfehmi ho gyi hai aapko, smart or aap?eww not a perfect match".
Rudra was taken aback by the reply but he didn't say anything clearly enjoying himself, gesturing grandly toward the corridor. “Chaliye,” he said with mock-gallantry, extending his arm as though he were leading royalty.
Yug raised an unimpressed brow but stood anyway, his chin tilted defiantly. “isme itni Overacting karne ki kya zaroorat hai?,” he muttered as he brushed past Rudra.
Rudra leaned slightly, his lips quirking. “Overacting? Nhi to I think you deserve this respect."
Yug’s step faltered for just a second before he shot back, “ohhh godd, what's wrong with you ?”
Aariv shook his head with a helpless smile. His friend’s fiery temperament against Rudra’s playful arrogance was already filling the mansion with a lively energy.
He rose, smiling politely at Rudra. “Chaliye,” he said softly.
For a moment, Rudra shifted his eyes from Yug to Aariv. Unlike with Yug, his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Chaliye,” he echoed, this time with no mischief.
And with that, the four of them moved deeper into Rathore Mansion Aariv unknowingly stepping closer to his destined storm.
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Each corridor seemed endless, lined with towering portraits of ancestors long gone, chandeliers heavy with cobwebs, and the faint smell of old incense clinging to the walls.
Aariv held his camera carefully, the click of the shutter echoing faintly in the silence.
He was fully immersed, framing every carved pillar, every antique chest, every grand archway with almost reverent focus.
His notebook lay forgotten, because where Aariv preferred capturing, Yug preferred recording.
Yug walked beside him, jotting hurried notes in his pad, occasionally muttering under his breath about the dates and names he had searched before coming.
“History ke bina documentary kya,” he said half to himself, scribbling.
Rudra, trailing behind with his hands tucked lazily into his pockets, smirked. “shi baat hai so can I know one history about you? Tell me your date of birth."
Yug froze mid step, his pen pausing against the paper. Slowly, he turned his head, narrowing his eyes at Rudra. “aapko har baat mein mazaak karna hai kya?”
Rudra tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Main toh sirf aapka concentration check kar raha tha. Dekha? Ek chhoti si line boli aur aap likhna bhool gaye.”
Yug scoffed loudly, snapping the notebook shut. “aapko
lagta hoga aap bohot clever ho. Haina?.”
Rudra grinned. “Lagta nahin… pata hai.”
Aariv, chuckled softly under her breath. Aariv only shook his head at the brewing banter, turning toward a long corridor where an old painting hung.
It was a portrait of a lady delicate, with an unsettlingly blank expression, dressed in royal attire. The colors had faded with age, but her eyes, dark and hollow, still carried a weight that seemed to follow whoever looked at her.
Drawn unconsciously, Aariv lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips lightly against the frame, dust smudging onto his skin. For a brief second, a strange shiver crawled up his arm, but he ignored it, adjusting his camera strap.
The click of his footsteps moved forward. Yug’s bickering with Rudra carried on.
And then
The painted lady’s eyes welled up. Thick, inky black tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks, staining the faded canvas. The lines of her painted lips curved downward, ever so slightly, into something that wasn’t quite sorrow and wasn’t quite rage.
But no one turned.
Not Aariv. Not Yug. Not even Rudra.
The mansion held its secrets in silence.
“Arre, aap likh toh rahe ho na sab?” Rudra’s teasing voice broke the stillness, tugging Yug back into focus.
Yug snapped, “aap chup rehenge toh likh paunga n!”
Rudra leaned closer, his smirk mischievous. “haaye itna cute gussa!!
Yug stopped in his tracks, turning his head sharply. His glare was sharp enough to cut glass. “Mujhe cute mat bolo.samjhe??”
Rudra put a hand dramatically over his chest, mock offended. “Arre… toh thik hai sach bata hi deta hu your so cutely beautiful”
Aariv smiled faintly, distractedly lifting his camera again, oblivious to the pair’s brewing tension.
The corridor stretched endlessly, its high ceiling casting shadows that swayed with every flicker of the chandelier above.
The walls carried the weight of centuries, portraits and tapestries staring back with lifeless eyes.
Aariv walked ahead slowly, his camera held steady, though his palms were slightly damp against the metal.
The silence wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the kind of quiet a mansion should have. It was heavier like the air itself was holding its breath.
He paused to click another picture of an antique mirror framed in gold, its glass dulled with age. For a second, as the flash lit up the corridor, Aariv thought he saw a shadow move across the reflection too quick, too sharp, and not belonging to anyone present.
His breath caught, and he lowered the camera. But when he looked again, the mirror was empty, only showing himself, and in the far distance, Rudra and Yug arguing in low, sharp voices.
“Arre, chaliye na " Rudra teased, his tone dripping with mischief.
Yug snapped his notebook shut, glaring. “dekhiye aap dur kyu nhi rehte mujhse. Main documentary banane aaya hoon, aapki bakwaas sunne nahin.”
Rudra laughed, low and playful. “Documentry hi to banana chahta hu aapke sath"
Yug groaned audibly, muttering, “Bas yehi bacha tha.”
Rudra : kya hua main to bas aapki help krne ki baat kar rha , aapko kya laga??
Aariv barely registered their bickering. His eyes kept darting around the corners, the walls, the ceiling. Every creak of the floorboard beneath his shoes echoed louder than it should have.
They walked a little further, and suddenly a door down the corridor creaked open on its own, its hinges groaning, a slow sound that scraped against Aariv’s nerves. He stopped in his tracks, his breath lodged in his throat.
Rudra noticed his hesitation. “Kya hua, Aap thik hai ?” he asked softly, concerned flashing in his eyes.
Aariv shook his head quickly, forcing a smile. “Kuchh… kuchh nahin. Bas… sounds old, that’s all.”
But his heart beat faster. He kept his camera raised, as if the lens could protect him from whatever his eyes feared to catch directly.
Behind them, Rudra chuckled at something Yug snapped, their voices carrying forward. Their banter seemed completely untouched by the strange weight in the air.
Then came the whisper.
Faint. Barely audible. Like dry leaves brushing against stone. Aariv’s ears strained, his steps faltering. It was a woman’s voice, low, broken, drifting through the corridor.
Aa gye tum…
His blood froze. The camera almost slipped from his grip. He spun around quickly but there was no one. Just shadows and portraits.
I must be imagining this, he told himself, swallowing hard. It’s just the old walls. Echoes.
But his chest felt tight, and his throat dry. The weight in the air pressed harder, like invisible eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to make another move.
Click.
He raised the camera and took another picture, almost instinctively.
The flash lit up the corridor again.
And for the smallest, most fleeting instant Aariv thought he saw someone standing at the far end. A tall, shadowed figure. Watching.
He blinked.
The corridor was empty.
They move ahead and at the end they reach a room.
Aariv’s steps slowed. His camera hung loose at his side, forgotten for the first time since they had entered. His gaze was drawn forward toward a large, heavy door at the very end of the passage.
The wood was old, almost black with time, its surface carved with faded symbols. Across it hung a massive iron lock, its weight pressing against the wood like a permanent scar.
Aariv stopped in front of it. His chest tightened, his skin prickling with an unease he couldn’t name. He reached out slowly, almost unconsciously, his fingers brushing against the cold iron.
“Ye… kiska room hai?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, as though afraid the door itself might hear him.
Rudra, leaning lazily against the wall a few feet away, glanced up. For once, the mischief left his eyes. He straightened slightly, his smirk faltering.
“Pata nahin,” Rudra said after a pause, his voice uncertain. “Jabse paida hua hoon… hamesha se hi tala laga rehta hai.”
The answer only deepened the strange pull Aariv felt. He nodded slowly, but his eyes remained fixed on the door. Something about it called to him not with sound, not with sight, but with an unexplainable weight. As if something inside wanted him to open it.
The lantern flickered, and for a heartbeat, Aariv thought he saw a shadow move behind the crack at the bottom of the door. His breath hitched.
“Aariv!” Yug’s voice cut sharply into his trance. A hand tugged at his arm. “Chal. We’ve taken enough photos. It’s late.”
Aariv blinked, as though waking from a dream. He looked at Yug’s impatient face, then back at the door. The iron lock gleamed faintly, unmoving, but the unease in his chest didn’t fade.
“Hmm…” Aariv nodded quietly, letting Yug pull him away.
But as they turned, Aariv’s gaze lingered on the door one last time. His steps moved forward, but his mind stayed behind.
The lock hung cold and silent.
And yet, from deep within the room, a faint echo stirred a hollow thud, like a heartbeat pressed against the wood.
No one else heard it.
Only the walls.
And perhaps, Aariv’s soul.
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