𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐈: 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑-𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 ♡

【65】 Ultimatum!?

[ The italic monologue represents the stalker. And the rest represents Aridhi. ]

~•~

The house was calm at night.

Ruvit slept while wrapping his arms around me, his chest pressed against my back—all the warmth I needed.

My phone was balanced beside me, my mind too tangled to let me sleep.

My thumb hovered over the message app. I’d read the same headlines over and over, watched the same footage on loop until I could recite every apology word by word.

The fact that someone might be watching me, keeping tracks on my every move, sent chills in my bones.

But who would force a billion dollar company to apologise publicly, in favour of me?

My phone vibrated once, enough to make me gulp. Because who the hell is messaging me at 2:05 AM?

When I checked my phone, a message from an unknown number lingered on the screen.

“Did you really think they apologised on their own?”

My eyes widened, heart pounding.

The text blinked back at me, pale letters against the dark screen.

“I know you must have figured out that someone forced it, you are smart.”

My fingers trembled against the keyboard when another message popped up.

“No one hurts what’s mine.”

I didn’t breathe.

The phone was steady in my hand, but my pulse was a frantic staccato beneath my skin.

A shiver ran through me as I remembered that single unknown message during Ridhima’s wedding rituals and my engagement.

I’d never forgotten that feeling.

Tonight, it returned.

It was the same cold certainty I’d felt that night—the way a shadow can stretch across the brightest room.

The way a single line of text can slip through your defenses like a knife.

I closed my eyes.

And for a heartbeat, I could almost hear him/her?

The calm voice behind the message.

The quiet promise in the threat.

The certainty that this wasn’t over.

♡

The message is sent.

And I know she’s reading it.

Feeling me.

I’ve never needed her to know my name. I’ve only needed her to know I’m always here.

Watching. Listening. Observing.

I can almost see her—laid down in bed, phone in hand, that perfect line of her shoulders gone stiff with alarm.

I know that flicker in her eyes better than she thinks. The silent calculations, the quiet dread.

She’s always been good at holding her ground. But I’m better at erasing it.

I leaned back in my chair, phone resting on the table. The apartment around me is silent—just the low hum of the city outside and the steady beat of my own pulse.