UNWILLINGLY HIS

Darkness within

Samaira’s POV

I’ve always been able to rationalize things. Hell, I’m a neurosurgeon. My entire career is based on logic, on understanding how the mind works, on knowing the difference between what’s real and what’s a construct of fear. I’ve spent years diagnosing problems with a clear mind, dissecting the thoughts that people are too scared to even acknowledge.

But right now? Right now, all that reasoning feels like a distant memory.

The darkness. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I used to be afraid of it, sure, but that was a long time ago. I’d conquered it—told myself it was a silly fear, a child’s anxiety that no longer had any power over me. But now, after everything that’s happened today, the darkness feels... different. More oppressive.

How did it come back? How did this thing I thought I’d stopped fearing turn into something that feels so alive? Maybe it’s the events of the day—everything’s been too much. The kidnapper. Advait. The lies. The tension. It’s like it all triggered something deep inside me that I couldn’t even begin to process.

I try to talk myself out of it. Get a grip, Samaira. It’s just the dark. You’re fine. It’s all in your head.

But the more I tell myself that, the more it feels like the shadows are closing in, suffocating me.

I can’t breathe. I feel the sweat starting to bead on my skin, my body reacting to the pressure of the fear that’s slowly making its way back into my chest.

I tell myself to get up, grab the phone, grab the torch. But my body won’t listen. It’s like I’m glued to this spot, my limbs frozen in place. I finally manage to open the window curtains, hoping to see something—anything—outside to prove that the world still exists. But the outside is no different. It’s just a sea of blackness. It’s a complete blackout.

I sit down on the floor, my back against the window, knees pulled up to my chest. My head is spinning, thoughts frantically racing. What do I do? What do I do?

I try to convince myself that I’m okay. But the fear is too overwhelming. It keeps creeping in, crawling under my skin. My body feels clammy, sweaty. I’m shivering, and I can’t make it stop. This is stupid. I’m not afraid. I can’t be afraid. But I am.

The minutes feel like hours as I sit there, trying to push it all away, trying to breathe through it. But all I feel is the fear, creeping in like the darkness around me.

Advait’s POV

The moment the lights went out, I was in the middle of changing, the shirt halfway off. At first, I didn’t think much of it—it’s not unusual for the power to flicker in this damn mansion. But when the lights didn’t come back on, I had to move quickly.

I dialed the servant’s number. “What’s going on with the electricity?” I asked.

He explained that there was a major fault in the connection from the main. Some part of the system had gone down, and it could take up to two hours to fix.

Two hours.

That was annoying. But not catastrophic. At least for me.

I grabbed a flashlight from the drawer and made my way down the hallway, wondering if Samaira had already taken care of herself. It’s not like she feared the dark anymore. She’d stopped that nonsense years ago. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

But when I reached her room, I froze.

There she was, sitting on the floor in the corner, her back against the window, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes were unfocused, and her lips were moving—muttering something under her breath. It wasn’t the Samaira I knew. She wasn’t mocking the situation or being sarcastic, like she usually would when she was uncomfortable. She looked... lost. Her whole body glistened with sweat, as though she’d just walked through a storm.

My first instinct was concern. What the hell happened?

But then it hit me. I’d seen her go through worse. The fear of the dark was long gone.

I stepped into the room, the soft click of the flashlight breaking the silence. "Samaira?" I called gently, trying to draw her attention.

She didn’t respond immediately.

I crouched down next to her, the beam of the torch casting light across her face. I could see the way her body trembled slightly, how her breathing was shallow. Something was off.

“Samaira, it’s just a power cut,” I said, trying to calm her down. “There’s a major fault in the electricity. It’ll take a couple of hours to get it back up.”

But she didn’t look at me. Her eyes remained distant, staring into the dark space in front of her.

I placed the torch on the floor beside her, the glow reflecting off her damp skin. I could tell she wasn’t hearing me.

What the hell happened to her?

I’d known Samaira long enough to see when something was wrong. When she was truly scared. And this? This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the confident, quick-witted woman I was used to.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Had today been too much for her? Had I pushed her too far, too fast?

I didn’t wait for a response. I could see she wasn’t ready to face me yet. I sat down beside her, maintaining a comfortable distance, but not leaving her alone. I didn’t speak again, just let the light from the torch flicker in the silence between us.

She was lost in her own head, and I couldn’t fix that. But I could make sure she wasn’t alone in the dark.