The early morning air was heavy with mist, wrapping the world in a hush that felt almost sacred. Purvi stood by the window, her breath fogging the glass as she traced invisible patterns with her fingertips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept through the night without waking in a panic.
Her phone sat on the table, silent. No new messages. No threats. Just silence. She should have been relieved, but the quiet felt more dangerous than the noise.
A soft knock on her door startled her. She turned to find her mother, eyes tired but kind, holding a cup of chai.
"Beta," she said gently, "you need to eat something."
Purvi forced a smile and took the cup. The warmth seeped into her cold fingers, but it did nothing to thaw the icy dread in her chest.
"Thanks, Ma," she whispered.
Her mother hesitated, watching her. "You've been so… distant lately. Is it school? Something with your friends?"
Purvi hesitated. How could she explain the sense of being watched, the messages that crawled under her skin, the feeling that even in her own home she wasn't safe?
"It's just… life," she said finally, her voice cracking. "It's hard to explain."
Her mother reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Purvi's ear. "You're stronger than you think," she said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Don't let anyone make you feel small."
After her mother left, Purvi sipped her chai slowly, staring at the steam as it curled into the air. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Karan — the way he'd stood by her side at the NGO office, the way he'd refused to let her face this alone.
She picked up her phone and scrolled to his number. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit call.
He answered on the second ring. "Purvi? Everything okay?"
His voice was like a balm, steady and warm. "I… I just wanted to talk," she admitted, feeling childish.
"Talk about what?" he asked gently.
She hesitated, chewing her lip. "About trust. About… everything."
There was a pause on the line, then his voice came, low and kind. "I'm here. Tell me."
She closed her eyes and took a breath. "I keep thinking… what if it's all in my head? What if I'm imagining things? The messages stopped, but I still feel like someone's watching me. I don't know if I'm losing my mind."
"You're not," Karan said firmly. "You've been through a lot, Purvi. It's normal to feel this way. But I believe you. And I believe in you."
Tears pricked at her eyes. "But what if it is Ayaan? What if he's trying to… I don't know… control me again?"
Karan was silent for a moment, then he spoke with a quiet strength. "Then we'll face him together. You don't have to go through this alone. I promise."
His words settled in her chest like an anchor. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Always," he said. "Now get dressed. We're going out."
She blinked. "Out? Where?"
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can breathe again. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."
And just like that, he hung up. Purvi stared at her phone, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe.
The café Karan took her to was warm and bustling with life. People laughed and sipped coffee, their voices mingling like a comforting hum. Purvi let the noise wash over her, grounding her.
Karan sat across from her, his eyes bright. "Better?"
She nodded. "A little."
"Good," he said, grinning. "Because you deserve a break from all that darkness."
She sighed, stirring her chai latte. "It's just… it feels like no matter how far I run, the shadows keep finding me."
Karan leaned forward. "Then maybe it's not about running. Maybe it's about turning around and facing them."
She met his gaze, searching for answers. "How do I do that?"
He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. "By remembering that you're not alone. That every time you let someone in — even a little — you weaken the darkness. Trust is like that. It's not a wall; it's a bridge."
She felt her heart twist, both in pain and hope. "I'm scared, Karan. Scared of trusting the wrong person again."
His eyes softened. "That's okay. Trust doesn't mean never getting hurt. It means choosing to heal even when you're afraid."
She thought of Ayaan, of the way his words had once felt like promises and had turned to poison. She thought of the messages that had haunted her nights. And she thought of Karan, patient and kind, always showing up even when she tried to push him away.
"I want to trust again," she whispered. "But I don't know how."
He smiled, warm and real. "Start small. Trust me with this moment. Just this one."
She held his gaze, feeling the tears spill over. She didn't wipe them away. "Okay," she said.
The weeks that followed were a slow, deliberate healing. She let Karan in — small steps, small smiles. They studied together, volunteered side by side, laughed at bad jokes. And every time she felt the panic rise — every time a shadow brushed her shoulder — he was there, a steady light in the dark.
One evening, as they walked home from the NGO, the streetlamps flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement. Purvi shivered, hugging herself.
"You okay?" Karan asked.
She nodded. "Just… nerves."
He looked around, his brow furrowed. "I'll walk you all the way home. Just in case."
She smiled. "Thank you."
As they neared her house, a figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, with a hoodie pulled low over his face.
Purvi's heart slammed into her ribs. Karan stepped in front of her, his stance protective.
"Who's there?" Karan demanded.
The figure paused, then stepped forward. The streetlight hit his face — and Purvi felt the world tilt.
Ayaan.
He looked older, thinner, shadows under his eyes. But it was him — the boy who'd once promised the world.
"Purvi," he said, his voice low. "Can we talk?"
Her chest constricted. "Why are you here?"
He shifted, glancing at Karan. "Alone, if that's okay."
Karan shook his head. "It's not okay. You can say whatever you need to say in front of both of us."
Ayaan's jaw tightened. "Please. I just need a minute."
Purvi felt the air crackle with tension. She took a breath, steadying herself. "Fine. One minute."
Ayaan stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "I messed up, Purvi. I know that. I was scared, and I didn't know how to be there for you. But I miss you. I miss us."
She stared at him, memories flooding her: the laughter, the tears, the lies.
"You broke my trust," she said, her voice trembling but strong. "You didn't just leave — you made me doubt myself. You made me feel small."
His eyes glistened. "I'm sorry. I can't change the past. But I want to make it right."
Purvi felt the tears come, hot and unstoppable. "You can't make it right with words, Ayaan. Trust isn't something you can just ask for. It's something you earn. And I'm not ready to give that to you. Not now."
Ayaan's face crumpled. "I understand," he whispered.
Karan stepped forward, his hand finding Purvi's. She squeezed it, grateful for his strength.
"Goodbye, Ayaan," she said.
He nodded, his shoulders slumping as he turned and walked away.
Purvi watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of grief and relief.
Karan squeezed her hand gently. "You did the right thing."
She nodded, wiping her tears. "I know."
As they walked the rest of the way home, Purvi felt lighter. The shadows were still there, but they didn't own her anymore.
She had faced them — and chosen herself.