Writer's Hub

Why, Dear?

As the bus pulled up to the PSH, Afrah's heart raced with anticipation. She leapt off, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night as she hurried to confront Janeshwa about the approval of the new scriptwriter, Tharun.

Pushing open the heavy door, she was met with the dim ambience of the hall, where Janeshwa lay sprawled on the couch, blissfully unaware of the world around him. The room was shrouded in shadows, the silence punctuated only by the soft whir of the air conditioning. For a fleeting moment, an uncomfortable chill crawled up her spine, reminiscent of memories of Viola that she would rather forget.

In a surge of frustration, Afrah slammed the door behind her, the loud bang slicing through the silence like a knife. The sudden noise jolted Janeshwa from his slumber, his eyes blinking open in confusion. Startled, he sat up, the cushions flying as he struggled to get his bearings. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, groggy but alert, while Afrah, fueled by a mix of anxiety and determination, prepared to unleash her plea for Tharun’s approval.

“Hey, Janeshwa, could you flick on that lamp beside you? I can’t get the amazing vibes from this morning out of my head!” Afrah said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. 

“Okay, okay, calm down a bit! You’ve reminded me I have something I need to tell you,” Janeshwa replied a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“What is it? I’ve got some news of my own too...” Afrah leaned in, curiosity sparkling in her gaze. 

“So, here’s the scoop... the Mystery Shadow Group is going to be staying with us for the next few weeks,” Janeshwa announced, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. 

“What?! A secret association is moving into our home? Are you out of your mind?” Afrah’s eyes widened in disbelief, her heart racing. 

“Shhh! Keep your voice down! They’re just in the next room!” Janeshwa whispered, glancing nervously toward the door. 

“Why should I? This is my home, and I have every right to express my concerns. We don’t need killer hunters lurking around here!” Afrah exclaimed, her arms crossed defiantly. 

“Look, they’re here for our safety—and the town’s safety, too! We need to keep this place running smoothly. If Viola decides to make another move, what then?” Janeshwa urged, his voice tinged with worry. 

“I get that, but for your sake—and your wife’s—I’ve cooked up something to ease our minds,” Afrah said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. 

“Why are you talking like that? Are you planning an escape?” Janeshwa asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“It’s all because of this serial killer mess. It’s making me seriously uneasy,” Afrah confessed, her gaze dropping as unease washed over her. 

“That’s precisely why this team is here,” Janeshwa reassured her, his tone firm. 

“Sure, but we aren’t the dangerous ones, remember? And by the way, Janeshwa, can we get dinner on the table already? I’m starving!” Edwin, the leader of the MSG, yelled from just behind the door. 

“Alright, but I’m still feeling pretty let down about this situation… Anyway, I suppose I have something important for you too,” Afrah said, her tone shifting slightly. 

“Filler, get the dining ready! We’ve got some serious stuff to discuss!” Janeshwa called out, gathering his thoughts. 

They all moved towards the dining hall, the air thick with unspoken tension as the members of the MSG mingled with the PSH staff.

"Hey, what’s up, Afrah?” Tito chimed in.
 
“Nothing much just found a scriptwriter who might help the old man,” Afrah replied casually.
 
“Yo, bro, why does she look all upset?” Nitya whispered to her brother Malik.
 
“Not sure, but looks like there’s some tension between her and Janeshwa,” Malik shrugged.
 
“Who are we talking about, Afrah?” Karthicka asked, leaning in.
 
“Just someone from the uni, super talented scriptwriter. We could get him on board!”
 
“Cool! It’s your call, girl!” Janeshwa piped up, trying to sound supportive.
 
“Honestly, I don’t need your praise, Janeshwa!” Afrah shot back, clearly annoyed.
 
“Whoa, what’s with the drama, guys?” Tito interjected.
 
“Seriously, what’s going on?” Clarke added, looking from one to the other.
 
“What did I even do?” Janeshwa mumbled to himself, looking defeated.