The Love that Haunts °ArShi°

Chapter 1

Arnav Singh Raizada.

The chill that had settled over the grand hall wasn't just from the ancient stone. It was a bone-deep cold that radiated from the... him.

Khushi should be terrified, running screaming from the room. But she wasn't. Instead, a strange calm settled over her.  He stood by the fireplace, a shimmering, translucent figure in what looked like a long, dark coat. His dark eyes, burning with an age-old intensity, were fixed on her and she felt inexplicably drawn in by them. They weren't the empty gaze of a ghost from horror stories, but there was a flicker of something... confusion? Perhaps even a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

Khushi's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm against the eerie silence. She clutched the edge of the worn armchair, her knuckles white. 

"You... How could you.... Is it not.... possible.. you... were...," she stammered.

Arnav tilted his head, a subtle movement that still managed to carry an unnerving grace. 

"You can... hear me, and... see me?" His voice was a low, melodious rumble, like distant thunder. It sent shivers down Khushi's spine, but not entirely from fear. There was something captivating about it.

This wasn't fair. Haunted by a ghost was one thing, but haunted by a handsome ghost who looked like he would stepped out of a history book with cheekbones that could cut glass? That was a whole other level of chaotic.

"Yes, I can hear you," she said, trying to sound braver than she was. "And... and see you."

It was ridiculous, absurd, but he was there. He was here. Here, in her grandmother's old mansion, the place she had dreamed of escaping to, to find peace. 

"That is... impossible," he murmured, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I have been here... for centuries."

"Centuries?" Khushi's mind reeled.

"Yes. I was the master of this estate... once," he explained, his voice laced with a subtle weariness, a sorrow that seemed as ancient as the mansion itself.

A master? That explained the royal way he carried himself. This was getting more and more bizarre. She was living a real-life gothic novel, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. This was not the relaxing escape she had envisioned. But amidst the fear, a strange curiosity blossomed. Why was Arnav Singh Raizada trapped here?

For Arnav, it was disorienting, utterly baffling. For centuries, he had existed in this twilight, a silent observer of the world that had moved on without him. Dust motes dancing in the slivers of sunlight were my only companions, until her.

Her startled gasp after seeing him, her wide, expressive eyes, the way she clutched the worn armchair – it was all so... alive. And then, she spoke. And he heard her. Really heard her.

A tremor of disbelief ran through him. He had long ago abandoned any hope of connection with the living. So many generations had passed; not one had ever acknowledged his presence, not even the slightest flicker of recognition. But this woman... she saw him, heard him. It was a sensation so alien that it shook him to core.

The first time he had tried to address her, his voice had seemed to pass right through her, like she was of a different plane of existence. That's how it always was. But then she turned to look at him, trying to find him.

"Can you...can you truly see me?" It was a question born of bewilderment, of a desperate grasp for connection after centuries of silence. His words, usually so commanding, emerged as a hesitant plea.

"Yes, but I still can't believe its all true."

"Neither I," Arnav replied, his voice even fainter this time.

Khushi took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. 

"Why?" she asked, "Why are you here? Why haven't you... moved on?"

A long, sorrowful silence followed. 

"I don't know...I don't even know you. Why can you see me?" Confused washed all over his face.

A wave of sympathy washed over her. He wasn't a malevolent spirit, here to haunt her. He was lost, trapped. She thought about the books she had read about him, the painting she had seen, about the laughing, vibrant man he once was, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him.

"Did something... happen here?" she asked, her voice softer now.

I... I don't..." Arnav's voice was strained, weaker than it had ever been. The sound was almost a whisper, a mere breath against the silence of the room. "I...can't...remember."

Panic rose in Khushi. 

"What is it? What's happening?" She tried to keep her voice calm, but a note of fear crept in, betraying her worry. She watched, helpless, as his form continued to dissolve.

He closed his eyes, forehead creased as if trying to force a stubborn memory into the forefront of his mind. 

"Pain...there's always...pain. A sharp...bright pain...like...fire..." His voice trailed off, the shimmer around him growing brighter, more intense.

It wasn't just a lack of memory; it was a barrier, a painful block preventing him from accessing the details of his death, Khushi realised. And with every attempt to breach it, he seemed to weaken, to fade further into the veil.

"Don't, Arnav, don't try to remember!" she pleaded, her voice rising in alarm. "It's hurting you." She moved closer. "Just...just stop. It's okay. We don't have to talk about it."

Arnav opened his eyes, the pain in them now replaced with a profound sadness. He looked at her, his gaze searching, hopeful. 

"You're still here?"

The relief that washed over her was immense. She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. 

"I am here, Arnav. I am right here."

A weak, almost grateful smile touched his lips. 

"Thank you," he breathed, the word barely audible. Then, with a tired sigh, he seemed to regain a bit of his previous lucidity. "It's like... a wall. A wall of darkness and pain. I try to climb over it, but it pushes me back."

Khushi felt a pang of sympathy for this spirit, trapped by the very circumstances of his passing. The mystery of his death was no longer just an intriguing question, but a dangerous territory that threatened his very being. She realized that she couldn't just keep asking about his past; she needed to help him, to find a way to navigate this invisible barrier without causing him further harm.

"Okay," she said firmly, wiping away a stray tear. "Then we won't try to climb the wall. Not anymore. We'll find other ways to understand. Perhaps, instead of focusing on the end, we can focus on anything else. Your other memories, the happy ones."

Arnav looked at her, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. 

"You...you really think so?"

Khushi nodded, her gaze unwavering. 

"Yes, Arnav. I do. And I promise you, we'll figure this out, together."  

She may not understand the nature of his existence, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty - she wouldn't let him fade away. Not if she had anything to say about it. The mystery of his death was a challenge, and she was ready to face it, one hesitant step at a time, with Arnav by her side or rather, near her.

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I hope that was good :)