Anchored in you

Chapter 41: The System Collapse

The air in the apartment had become a toxic slurry of tension and unspoken threats. Harish had a late-night server migration at the office-a massive, eight-hour operation that required his physical presence. As he kissed me goodbye at the door, his mind was already miles deep in lines of code and latency issues.

"I'll be back by dawn, Sami. Ro is here if you need anything," he said, patting my arm distractedly.

"I don't need anything, Harish," I said, my voice tight. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to grab his collar and scream that the man sitting on our velvet sofa was a virus in our operating system. But Harish was already out the door.

I locked the door immediately. I retreated to our bedroom, intending to stay there until I heard Harish's key in the lock the next morning. I was wearing an old, oversized salwar suit, the dupatta wrapped twice around my chest like a shroud. I was reading a case study on my tablet, trying to drown out the sound of the TV in the living room.

Then, the power went out.

It wasn't a city-wide blackout; the streetlights outside were still glowing. It was a tripped circuit. The apartment plunged into a thick, suffocating darkness. My heart began to drum a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I reached for my phone, but before I could turn on the flashlight, I heard the door to my bedroom creak open.

"Sami? You okay in there? Lights went out," Rohan's oily voice drifted through the dark.

"I'm fine, Rohan. Stay back. I'll call the building electrician," I said, my voice sharp with a fear I couldn't hide.

"No need for that. I know my way around a fuse box," he said. I could hear him moving closer. He wasn't at the door anymore; he was in the room. The scent of his heavy cologne, now mixed with the stale smell of whiskey, hit me like a physical blow.

"Get out," I commanded, standing up, my hand finally finding my phone. I flicked the light on.

The beam of the phone caught him just inches away. He wasn't looking for a fuse box. His eyes were dark, bloodshot, and fixed on me with a hunger that made me want to scrub my skin raw.

"You know, Harish really is a fool," Rohan whispered, stepping into the light. "Leaving a woman like you all alone. All that fire, wasted on a guy who treats you like a decorative pillow."

"Rohan, move. Now."

He didn't move. He lunged. His hand caught my arm, pulling me toward him with a strength that shocked me. I felt his other hand reach for my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my salwar.

"Let's see what the Consultant is hiding under all these layers," he growled.

I didn't think. I reacted. I brought my knee up with every ounce of terror and rage I had been suppressing for weeks. It caught him square in the groin. He let out a strangled wheeze and doubled over. I didn't wait. I shoved him with both hands, sending him crashing against the heavy teak wardrobe.

"If you ever touch me again, I will kill you," I hissed, my voice unrecognizable even to myself.

I bolted for the door, ran into the living room, and sat by the front door with a kitchen knife in my hand, shaking, waiting for the sun to rise.

When Harish finally returned at 6:30 AM, the lights were back on. I was still sitting on the floor, my eyes red and raw, the knife still clutched in my hand.

"Sami? What the hell is going on?" Harish dropped his bag, his eyes wide with confusion.

Rohan emerged from the hallway, looking perfectly composed, though he moved with a slight limp. "Harish! Man, thank God you're back. Your wife... I think she's had a nervous breakdown. The power went out, I came to check on her, and she attacked me. She's been sitting there with a knife for three hours."