His Apricity

25. Under the stars.

J E E V A'S  P O V

Two weeks had dragged by in a haze of anxiety and fear since the first unsettling message arrived. 

It began innocently enough, but as they grew more frequent and disturbing, they became a constant source of dread.

 Each notification on my phone sent a shiver down my spine, disrupting my already fragile focus on my studies. 

Desperate for answers, I turned to Avinash, a friend from school now interning at the forensic department in Delhi. 

Our late-night calls became a lifeline as we dissected every detail, trying to piece together clues that could unmask the anonymous tormentor.

But with each passing day, the messages became more sinister, crossing boundaries that made me physically ill. The pressure of the unknown weighed heavily on me, leading to breakdowns that left me feeling helpless and vulnerable. 

Even Krishav, who had always been so understanding and supportive, became a casualty of my turmoil. I began avoiding him, making excuses to keep my distance, fearing that if I let myself get too close, I would only end up hurting him more deeply.

The once-familiar refuge of the library turned into a place of discomfort. I felt eyes on me constantly, an unnerving presence that made every study session an ordeal.

Then, just as abruptly as they had begun, the messages stopped. For an entire week, there was nothing but silence from the sender. 

Relief washed over me, but it was tinged with caution. When I shared the news with Avinash over the phone, his response echoed my own lingering unease.

"Maybe something happened to him," he mused, his voice tinged with concern. "Or maybe he's playing mind games, testing your reactions."

I sat at my desk in the dimly lit hostel room, staring at my phone as his words sank in. The stillness that followed was unsettling after weeks of tension and fear. Avinash was right; we couldn't afford to let our guard down now.

"We can't just sit tension-free," I murmured, more to myself than to Avinash.

"We'll keep trying to track him down," Avinash assured me, his determination audible even through the phone.

"Thank you, Avinash," I replied softly, grateful for his unwavering support.

As we ended the call, I was left alone with my thoughts. 

The uncertainty of what would happen next loomed large, but I knew one thing for certain—I couldn't afford to be complacent. 

The threat might have paused, but it hadn't disappeared, and I had to stay vigilant.

Lost in my thoughts, I felt a jolt as my phone pinged. For a split second, dread gripped me, thinking it might be another message from the faceless tormentor. 

With cautious hope, I checked my phone and exhaled in relief—it was Krishav, asking me to come downstairs. 

A wave of relaxation washed over me as I peered through the balcony glass to see him waiting.

Krishav stood by his bike, clad in a striking black leather jacket and pants, his posture oozing confidence. 

Our eyes locked, and I watched as he casually dialed his phone, holding it to his ear with an air of self-assurance. 

Curiosity mingled with a hint of apprehension as my phone rang—it was Krishav calling me directly. Why now? I wondered, my mind racing with questions.

I answered tentatively, lifting the phone to my ear, but before I could speak, his voice cut through with authority, "Wear a thick jacket. It's cold out."