•| FORTY SIX |•
Krish was driving toward your university with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting near the gear, his mind far from the road and completely consumed by thoughts of you.
He hadn’t planned anything dramatic—he just wanted to see you, even if it was from a distance, even if you refused to speak to him.
The mere thought of catching a glimpse of you walking across campus, your hair swaying with the wind, was enough to make a faint smile appear on his face.
“Just one look,” he murmured to himself, as if convincing his own restless heart. The traffic lights turned green, and he pressed the accelerator gently, unaware of the storm quietly brewing elsewhere. Not long after, he reached the university gates, but something immediately felt off.
The campus looked unusually quiet. Only a handful of students were scattered around, and the usual chaotic energy was missing.
His smile slowly faded. He parked his car by the side and stepped out, adjusting his watch before walking toward the entrance.
Spotting the security guard near the gate, he approached him politely.
“Excuse me,” Krish said. The guard looked up and instantly straightened, recognizing the aura of authority Krish naturally carried.
He bowed his head slightly out of respect.
“Yes, sir?” “Umm… can you tell me why there are so few students today?” Krish asked, trying to keep his voice casual despite the sudden nervousness creeping in.
The guard replied, “It’s a half-day today, sir.
Some classes were canceled, so most students already left.
” Krish blinked in surprise. “Half-day?” he repeated under his breath before letting out a frustrated sigh.
“Of course… just my luck.” He forced a small smile. “Oh, thanks.” Turning around, he walked back to his car, disappointment weighing heavily on his chest. He had come all this way hoping to see you, and now he didn’t even know whether you had already left.
Quickly pulling out his phone, he dialed a number he hadn’t expected to call.
The line connected after a few rings. “Hello, bhai?” Pratik’s voice came from the other side, slightly breathless.
“Pratik,” Krish said without wasting a second, “is Samira with you?” There was a brief pause.
“No, bhai… she left a few minutes ago. She didn’t let us drop her.
” Krish’s grip on the phone tightened. “She left? Alone?” “Yes, bhai. I insisted, but she refused.” Krish inhaled sharply, a strange uneasiness settling in his gut. “Okay,” he said slowly.
“If you see her or hear from her, call me.” “Yes, bhai.” The call ended, but Krish didn’t move for a moment.
His heart was thumping for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.
He looked at the nearly empty road outside the university gate and felt an odd sense of dread creeping up his spine, as if something wasn’t right.
---
“I’m hungry,” you whispered to yourself, pressing a hand lightly against your stomach as you walked down the narrow alley that served as a shortcut to your house.
The main road would’ve taken longer, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with traffic or unnecessary stares.
The alley was quieter, lined with old brick walls covered in faded posters and creeping vines.
A soft breeze brushed past you, carrying the faint smell of street food from somewhere nearby.
For a brief moment, you smiled, thinking about Riya and Pratik.
“They’re probably fighting over which store to enter first,” you murmured fondly, picturing Riya dragging Pratik by the wrist while he complained dramatically.
“They’re enjoying their life…” The words lingered in the air, but your smile slowly faded as another face replaced that image—Krish.
The way he used to walk beside you. The way he would hold your hand without even realizing it.
The way he would look at you like you were the only person in the world. Your chest tightened.
“Hope he’s good,” you whispered unconsciously, your voice softer now, almost fragile. Just then, the faint echo of footsteps broke your thoughts.
At first, you ignored it, assuming it was just someone else taking the same shortcut.
But as the sound grew slightly louder—and more than one pair—you slowed down.
Your heart skipped a beat. You stopped walking and turned around.
A few boys were standing a short distance behind you, their figures partially shadowed by the dim light between the buildings.
They weren’t talking. They were just… standing there. Watching.
You frowned slightly, convincing yourself not to overreact.
Maybe they were just heading the same way.
Turning back around, you resumed walking, trying to keep your pace steady and natural.
Don’t panic. Just walk. But then— “Excuse me, miss.” The voice came from behind you, too casual, too deliberate.
Your steps faltered. Slowly, you turned your head to look at them again.
They were closer now. Much closer. One of them had a smirk playing on his lips, while another cracked his knuckles lazily. Your throat felt dry. “Do you… need some help?” you asked, your voice hesitant, confusion masking the growing fear inside you.
They exchanged glances before their smirks widened.
Instead of answering, they began walking toward you—slow, measured steps, as if they had all the time in the world.
The air suddenly felt heavier, suffocating.
Instinctively, you took a small step back, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Something was very, very wrong.
Krish couldn’t explain it, but something inside him felt terribly wrong. His chest felt tight, his breathing uneven, like an invisible thread connecting him to you was being violently pulled.
He tried calling you again, pacing near his car before getting inside and dialing your number.
The number you are trying to reach is out of coverage area.
The robotic voice made his jaw clench.
“Out of range?” he muttered. For a second, he tried to convince himself that you were ignoring him on purpose.
She needs space… she probably switched it off.
But no matter how much logic he tried to feed his brain, his heart refused to calm down.
It was pounding wildly, screaming that something was wrong. Meanwhile, Pratik was halfway home when the image of those boys flashed in his mind again—their fixed stares, the way they had subtly followed you from the campus gate. His grip tightened on the bike handle.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as realization struck him like lightning. He abruptly stopped near the side of the road, quickly putting on his leather jacket as if preparing for something bigger. Without wasting another second, he rushed back toward Riya, who was still standing near a store.
“Babe,” he said urgently, grabbing her shoulders lightly, “Samira is in danger. I have to go.” Riya’s eyes widened in shock.
“W-what are you saying? I’ll come with you—” “No,” he cut her off firmly.
“Listen to me.” He quickly explained what he had noticed—the boys, their behavior, the alley shortcut you usually took.
His voice was fast but steady. “You call Samira’s number continuously.
If it rings, keep trying. If not, call the police but wait for my call first. And don’t leave this area alone.
Got it?” Riya’s hands trembled slightly, but she nodded.
“O-okay… now go fast!” Pratik didn’t waste another second.
He ran toward his bike, started it, and sped off, dialing Krish’s number as he rode.
The call connected after two rings. “Bhai,” Pratik said breathlessly, “she’s in danger.
I saw some boys following her from the university.
” There was a dangerous silence on the other side.
“Where?” Krish’s voice was low. Too low.
“The alley shortcut near the old abandoned villa road.” “Yeah,” Krish replied coldly, “I’m coming there.
” The call ended. Krish was already driving at full speed, his car cutting through traffic recklessly.
His eyes burned—not just with anger, but guilt.
If anything happens to her… His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.
He knew exactly who was capable of such a cheap move.
“You chose the wrong move, Sara,” he snarled through gritted teeth, slamming his palm against the steering wheel before turning sharply toward the old abandoned villa area on the outskirts.
Inside the deserted villa, dust floated in the dim light that filtered through cracked windows.
The air smelled of damp wood and neglect.
“Ahhh—umm what a-are you d-doing? L-leave me!” you stuttered, your voice shaking violently as panic consumed you.
The boys had dragged you inside, your phone thrown somewhere out of sight.
Rough hands pushed you down onto a broken wooden chair.
You struggled, kicking and twisting, but one of them grabbed your wrists harshly while another tied thick rope around them, binding you tightly to the chair.
“Y-yeah what the hell are you doing? Let me go!” you cried, your voice cracking.
One of the boys stepped forward with a mocking grin.
“So much attitude at the university,” he taunted.
“Where’s that confidence now?” “Don’t touch me!
” you shouted, trying to free yourself, but the rope only dug deeper into your skin.
Suddenly—slap! The sound echoed loudly in the empty hall.
Your head snapped to the side as burning pain spread across your cheek.
You tasted blood. Your lower lip had split slightly.
Tears welled up in your eyes, not just from the pain, but from the fear clawing at your chest. “Scream as much as you want,” another boy laughed darkly.
“No one’s coming.” Your heart pounded violently as you shook your head, whispering through trembling breaths, “Krish…” You didn’t even realize you had said his name aloud.
Outside, in the distance, the faint sound of engines approaching began to grow louder.