Her Nightmare | 18+

|| Chapter 55 ||

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PARINIDHI

Devansh followed me into the room, but I stayed where I was, sprawled on the bed, pretending to be asleep. I couldn't bring myself to face him, not tonight.

I kept my back to the door, clutching the duvet tighter around me, like it could somehow shield me from the storm brewing inside.

His footsteps grew closer, slow and deliberate, and my grip on the duvet only tightened.

"Pari," his voice was soft, laced with a tenderness that made my chest ache, but I didn't respond. I couldn't.

He knew I wasn't asleep. He always knew. His finger traced a slow line from my shoulder down to my wrist, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked quietly, concern woven into his words. "Talk to me."

I stayed silent, rooted in place by the weight of my own thoughts.

For a moment, there was only silence. I almost thought he'd left, but then his breath was warm against my ear.

"Pari, I know you're awake. And I know you don't want to talk right now." His voice was soft, understanding. "I'll be in the study. Call me if you need anything." He pressed a light kiss to my earlobe before stepping away, the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing in the quiet room.

I sat up, staring at the door long after he'd left. My mind raced, the knot in my chest tightening with every breath.

"What's wrong with me?" I whispered to no one in particular, my voice barely audible in the stillness.

I changed into more comfortable clothes, but the tension didn't ease. Lying back down, I stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.

A sudden buzz from my phone broke the silence. I glanced at it, an unknown number flashing on the screen. I ignored it at first, but when another message came in, curiosity got the better of me.

I opened it.

The image loaded slowly, pixel by pixel, but the moment it fully appeared, my heart dropped. The air left my lungs, and my hand trembled, causing the phone to slip from my grip, clattering onto the floor.

I snatched it back up, hoping I'd seen wrong, praying for a mistake. But the image was clear—Devansh, unmistakable, wrapped around another woman.

Her face was blurred, but his wasn't. Neither was the scar that ran across his back.

Tears stung my eyes as the weight of the betrayal hit me. Everything we had been through, every challenge we'd faced—it all seemed meaningless now. A cruel, twisted joke.

Fueled by anger, I stormed toward the door but stopped abruptly as a flood of emotions crashed into me.

What could I even say? Why demand answers from someone who seemed so indifferent to the damage he'd caused?

I sank back onto the bed, picked up my phone, and dialed the unknown number. My heart raced as it rang, but no one answered.

I zoomed in on the photo again, scrutinizing every inch, hoping for a shred of doubt. But there it was—Devansh's scar, clear as day. It was him. There was no denying it.

For what felt like hours, I sat in silence, numb to everything except the image on my phone. Betrayal gnawed at me, relentless and unforgiving. I set the phone aside, letting myself collapse into the bed, drained of all energy.