When you smile

Chapter 3

Dev's P.O.V.

As I read those messages again, my world spins out of control. Panic surges through my veins, turning my blood to ice. My hands tremble, fingers barely able to grip the phone. Each word on the screen sends a shockwave through my body, igniting a wildfire of fear that engulfs me. It's as if the walls are closing in, suffocating me, leaving me gasping for air.

My heart, once a steady rhythm, now thunders in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of terror. Breath comes in ragged bursts, shallow and inadequate. An invisible vice tightens around my throat, squeezing the life out of me. It's a struggle to even swallow, as if the weight of my own fear is too much to bear.

Thoughts collide in my mind like a tempest, a maelstrom of confusion and dread. Could this be a cruel prank? My pulse quickens as the possibility emerges, but logic crumbles beneath the weight of reality. Who else could know about my new number? My parents? The uncertainty claws at my insides, feeding my rising panic.

Emotions swell within me, a tsunami threatening to drown my reason. Standing at the edge of an abyss, I'm overcome by a tidal wave of anxiety and foreboding. My stomach churns with a nauseating mix of apprehension and anticipation, and my heartbeat reverberates in my ears like a relentless war drum. Each word of the message becomes a cryptic code, a puzzle that could unravel the safety I've built for myself.

Vikram's presence is palpable in every character, an insidious reminder of a past I've fought to escape. It's him, I know it deep within my bones, but I cling to a fragile hope, praying it's just a wrong number. I repeat this mantra in my head, a desperate plea to deny the intrusion of his malevolence. It's a wrong number, it has to be! I chant like a mantra, a desperate grasp at an alternate reality.

My mom's voice pierces the suffocating fog, a lifeline back to the present. "Dev, come and have lunch, baby," she calls out, her voice a beacon of warmth and safety amidst the storm.

For a moment, I stand frozen, the phone a heavy weight in my hand. But her voice is a lifeline, and I force my leaden legs to move, stumbling toward the present that still offers sanctuary. I'm trapped in a web of fear, but I won't let it ensnare me completely.

I let out a strained reply, "Coming!" and place the phone on the bed, as though hoping it could vanish, erasing the unsettling message along with it. The weight of uncertainty hangs heavily in the air, a dark cloud threatening to swallow me whole.

With cautious steps, I descend the stairs, a sense of unease clutching at my chest. My dad is engrossed in his own world, his gaze locked onto his phone's screen. I become acutely aware of his presence, his presence a looming shadow that casts a heavy weight upon my shoulders. I instinctively move with a careful quietness, hoping to escape his attention, to avoid the looming storm of his expectations and admonishments.

His eyes seem to flicker in my direction for a split second, a cold gaze that feels like a judgmental spotlight. I hold my breath, my heartbeat a frantic rhythm that echoes in my ears. I'm a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place, my dad's words a force field I dare not breach. It's as if his gaze could strip away my defenses, exposing my vulnerabilities for all to see.

Relief sweeps over me like a gentle breeze as his focus shifts elsewhere. I seize the moment, slipping away from his scrutiny, retreating to the safety of the dining area where my mom is setting the table. Her presence is a soothing balm, a contrast to the tense atmosphere that hangs like a thick fog.

Amidst the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates, my dad's voice cuts through the silence. His tone holds a tinge of weariness, as though he's weary of the endless cycle of expectations. "Is this school up to your standards?"