Nandini Verma was 18 when she penned her first story, a tale of passion, betrayal, and revenge. It was a masterpiece, poised for publication. But on the night she was to share her brilliance with the world, tragedy struck. Her abusive father, a figu...
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My thoughts were a tangled mess of guilt and worry, knowing I had crossed a line. But it was too late to undo what had been done. The plan had been set into motion, and now all I could do was face the consequences.
I quickly parked the car and rushed to the elevator. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety. As I reached her floor, I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat-her door was slightly ajar. A wave of guilt washed over me. Had I scared her so much that she forgot to lock the door behind her? My stomach tightened at the thought.
I moved cautiously toward the door, pushing it open slightly as I stepped inside. The silence of the apartment was unsettling, each creak of the floorboards amplified in the stillness. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. That's when I felt it-a presence behind me. My powers and instincts , alerted me immediately. Whoever it was, they were shorter than me, their movements deliberate but careful.
Before I could turn around, I felt a cold, sharp edge near my neck. My breath caught for a moment, but I quickly realized what was happening. It was her-my little Swan. She had managed to sneak up on me, holding a small knife against my throat, though at a safe distance. The blade was close enough to be a warning but far enough not to harm.
"You really did try to scare me," her voice was steady, a mix of anger and something else, perhaps amusement.
Despite the situation, I couldn't help but smile, though the guilt gnawed at me. I should have known better than to underestimate her. She was smarter than I had given her credit for, and now she had turned the tables on me. Playing along, I kept my tone light, though inside, I was anything but calm.
"My little Swan is really smart, huh?" I said, trying to defuse the tension. "You could have just asked me.
" What if it was real, and something happened to me ?"
As soon as those words left her lips, I couldn't hold back anymore. I spun around swiftly, pinning her against the wall, the knife now pressed against her neck, but just like before, I kept it at a safe distance. The movement was instinctual, a reflex born out of her writings . But what surprised me most was her reaction-she didn't flinch, not even for a second. Her eyes, filled with anger, met mine with an intensity that left me momentarily speechless.
"What if it was real?" she repeated, her voice unwavering, daring me to answer.
Her defiance ignited something in me, something primal. But more than that, her words struck a chord deep within. The thought of anything happening to her, of someone even thinking of hurting her, made my blood run cold. Without thinking, I threw the knife aside, the blade clattering to the floor as I placed my hand over her mouth, silencing her. I couldn't bear to hear her say such things, not even hypothetically.
"Don't," I said, my voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge. "Don't even think about it. No one could ever think of touching you. Hurt is not even an option. I will never let that happen to you."
