"Do you want proof of my love, babybird?" he whispered.
"Do you want to know what I see when I can't sleep?"
The screen turned black.A video started playing.
I gasped.I wanted to scream. But no sound came.
It was us.
That night.Our first time.
Tear...
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Mishti
Meethi wriggled out of my palms again.
"Arre-no, no, no-Meethi!" I squealed, grabbing the little fuzzball just before she leapt off the velvet cushion. She was growing fast, but her paws were still too small for such mischief. I tucked her under my chin like a baby, her tiny heartbeat fluttering wildly against mine. Her tail flicked, brushing against the side of my jaw like a feather.
We were sitting in Sultan's sprawling guest room, but it had begun to feel less like a room. As if I wasn't supposed to be living in it-just being watched.
Because something felt off. Off in the way a cold drop of water trails down your spine when no one's there to pour it. Off in the way you know someone's eyes are on you even though you're alone.
I paused mid-cuddle, my gaze drifting to the far-right corner of the room, just above the bookshelf.
I stood slowly, Meethi still in my arms. Her ears perked up too. She was stiff now.
"Is someone there?" I whispered, heart kicking against my ribs like it wanted out.
The curtains fluttered a little from the air vent, and I almost laughed at myself. Almost. But the goosebumps didn't lie.
Something was wrong.
Before I could step closer-
"BOO!"
"Aaaahh-!"
I almost dropped poor Meethi as I spun around, eyes wide and breath shallow.
Sadafa was grinning like a lunatic, draped in a pink hoodie three sizes too big, cheeks puffed out like a rabbit. She was crouching by the door like she was in some thriller movie.
"Mishti! Mishti, please play with me. I am feeling so lonely," she whined, batting her lashes dramatically. She was trying hard or actually imitating Abid and looked ridiculous for her age.
I blinked.Then narrowed my eyes."What... is this behaviour, Pooja?"
Her face cracked into a grin, trying not to laugh.
"Assignment," she replied nonchalantly, collapsing into the beanbag with all the flair of a Broadway actress.
I huffed, placing Meethi down on the bed where she pounced on a cushion immediately.
"Assignment? What kind of assignment requires you to sneak up like a ghost and traumatise me?"
She pouted, rolling onto her stomach and staring up at me like an innocent accused in court.
"I have to observe people's reactions under fear. Psychological thrillers or something. Professor said real reactions are more authentic. I picked you because you get spooked so easily."
