under the wraps

What the Surgery Took

My parents used to shout at me, and I barely listened. I forgot what was important and what wasn't.

They started saying something was wrong with me—that I wasn't myself anymore. They pulled me out of school, took me to countless psychologists, and made me attend homeschooling for a year. But no psychologist could find my exact problem. They said I was fine. My IQ was still good. Memory, reflexes, intelligence, personality, spatial relations, moral reasoning—everything checked out. Nothing was wrong.

I had answers for everything... except why I kept making poor decisions.

Until one day, my tutor died.

They found me sitting on the stairs, staring at her body lying lifeless on the floor. That day, they realized the one thing that had truly changed in me—my emotions. The surgery that was meant to remove my tumor had debilitated my ability to empathize and feel.

I had been suppressing my emotions since my brother died, but the surgery didn't just suppress them—it destroyed them. I couldn't feel anything for anyone. No regret. No guilt. No embarrassment. Everything became dull.

They were afraid.

So they sent me to a mental asylum.

I did the only thing I could do to get out of there. I worked on myself like hell and started pretending. Pretending that everything was fine. That I was harmless. That I was okay. That I could still feel.

But it was all a lie.

The only people I ever remember having feelings for were my brother and Rudra. Rudra became my life, and my brother's words became my purpose to live. Every time I killed someone, I imagined my brother's happy face—because I was helping them have a good sleep.

My life was fine... until you showed up. And you ruined everything.

When we were in high school, Rudra confessed to me that he loved you and couldn't bear to embarrass you. That day, I couldn't control my anger. For the first time, I did the opposite of what he expected from me. I revealed everything about you. I knew exactly where to place your diary—how to let the whole school know your secrets.

But he still blamed himself.

Thankfully, his grandfather was a little smart. The moment he asked me if I could frame you, I agreed. Of course, I wanted you out of the school—and out of our lives. And you did leave. You started hating him for something I did. But he never hated you. Even when you weren't there, you were still between us.

"But now everything will be fine," she said softly.
"Because you, my dear friend, are going to be killed by me. And Mansi will take all the blame. After all, who would suspect me? She's already the prime suspect. Rudra will go crazy after your death. He'll put her in prison. And I'll comfort him during that time."

Her lips curved into a smile.

"He will be mine forever. And who will know my truth... except you?"

"Me."

Someone spoke.

But it wasn't Prachi's voice.

It was Rudra's.

The sound of it sent a shock through both me and Prachi. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating—until my dizzy eyes met Rudra's bloodshot red ones. Just a few inches away from him stood Sushant.

"I will know your truth," Rudra said, his voice shaking. "What will you do now? Kill me too, like you did to everyone? Look at you, Prachi. What have you done? How could you—"

He stopped mid-sentence. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at her. Prachi stood frozen, as if she couldn't come up with a single explanation.

"Rudra, this is a misunderstanding," she said quickly. "I can explain."

Her tone changed—back to the familiar one. The fake personality I had always known.

"What is there to explain?" Rudra shouted, stepping closer to her, as if he might kill her any moment. "I heard everything with my own ears. I didn't believe it at first when Sushant explained his theory to me."

"What theory?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I don't believe you still don't get it."

This time, Sushant spoke. He walked into the room and stepped toward me, helping me stand and making me sit on a nearby chair.

"This was all a trap," he said calmly. "We never suspected Mansi. It was you I suspected from the beginning. Something about you was off from the start."

"This is bullshit," she snapped. "You're just blaming me with empty theories."

"Oh, really?" Sushant crossed his arms. "Then tell me why you came back to India so many times from Norway and never met anyone. Exactly on the days when the murders took place. Why did you try to destroy your records? Your company imports high-end drugs that can make people unconscious—drugs that don't show up in autopsies immediately but after a week. Drugs not used in any medicine. Drugs no one knows where they're being used."

Her face paled.

"And the names used in the notes?" he continued. "Straight out of Norse mythology—where you lived for years. For your information, I noticed your crooked nail the day you gave a speech as chief guest in my college. From that day on, I watched you. I didn't have proof, so I had to set this up with Mansi—so you'd believe we already had a murderer and reveal your real claws."

"But Mansi's writing matched the diary—"

"We never matched Mansi's original writing," he interrupted. "We matched your note for Vera with the diary. If you remember correctly. And Mohit's fiancée remembering your face? That was part of the plan too."

He smirked.

"You used your profession as a lawyer perfectly—destroyed evidence, twisted facts. But you can't destroy a self-confession."

He gestured toward the corners of the room.

"We recorded everything."

"Your game is over, Miss Prachi."

She looked stunned. Then she laughed—loudly, hysterically, like a mad person.

"I already got rid of her CCTV cameras," she said. "Where will—"

"Of course, we anticipated that," Sushant cut her off. "We installed tiny cameras in every corner of the house—without her knowledge. Cameras you didn't notice. Your confession is already recorded."

Silence fell.

Rudra still stared at her, anger burning in his eyes.

Prachi went quiet. Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed Rudra's hands, looking at him as if she were begging for forgiveness.