Title – The Stranger in Aryan's Skin
Days passed, and Elyas's condition began to improve—so much so that the doctors were amazed. The mysterious medicine Zahira had received from Aryan seemed to be working wonders. Within a week, the doctor smiled and said, "If this continues, we'll be able to discharge him soon. He'll just need some care and rest at home now."
Sajiya was overjoyed. After weeks of pain and hopelessness, she could finally breathe again. Her laughter returned, her steps grew lighter, and her eyes sparkled with renewed life. Everything felt normal again—or so it seemed.
But Zahira could feel it—something was not right.
Aryan had changed. He had become distant, cold even. Whenever Zahira reached out to him, emotionally or physically, he pulled away. There were no more warm glances or quiet smiles. Instead, he would sit in silence, watching her from afar with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
Zahira tried to ignore it, to convince herself it was just stress. Maybe Aryan was going through something. But the feeling of wrongness only grew stronger with each passing day.
One night, during dinner, she finally confronted him.
"Aryan," she said softly, forcing a smile, "Why are you so distant lately? Did I do something wrong? If you're not happy with me, just say it. If there's someone else… I won't stop you. I'll leave if that's what you want. Just tell me the truth."
For a moment, the man she thought was Aryan simply stared at her. The room was silent, too silent. Then came a reply, so delayed and robotic, it sent chills down her spine.
"I'm just tired," he said flatly. "I need some time."
Then he stood up and walked away, leaving Zahira frozen. But he didn't leave the room. He stood in the shadows, watching her... staring at her as if she were prey.
A chill passed down Zahira's back.
Moments later, her phone buzzed.
It was a video call—from Aryan.
She glanced up. Aryan—or whatever he was—was still standing across the room, eyes locked on her.
Heart racing, she picked up the call.
"Zahira," the real Aryan's voice echoed from the screen. He looked tired, sitting somewhere that looked like a hotel room. "I've been trying to reach you for days… Are you okay?"
Her heart dropped. Her hands trembled. She glanced again at the man in her house—the man who wasn't Aryan—and quickly ended the call.
She rushed to her room, snatching her car keys, her breath ragged with panic. She had to get away. Now.
But the thing wearing Aryan's face followed her. "Where are you going?" it asked, voice calm but hollow.
"I'm just… going to meet Sajiya and Elyas," she lied, voice shaking.
"I'll come with you," it said, almost too eagerly.
"No!" Zahira blurted. Then she added quickly, "It's… a girl's issue. You wouldn't be comfortable."
It stared at her for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Alright. Be safe."
She rushed out, slamming the door behind her, tears stinging her eyes. Her fingers trembled on the steering wheel as she drove, the city lights blurring past. There was only one place she could go—the church. The one where darkness had once tried to consume her and failed.
As soon as she arrived at the ancient church, her fears eased slightly. The air inside felt sacred. She knew... spirits like him couldn't enter.
From the altar, Zahira texted Sajiya the location. "Bring Elyas here. It's urgent. Trust me."
Sajiya was confused but obeyed. Claiming a medical emergency, she rushed Elyas out of the hospital.
Meanwhile, the spirit followed them, lurking just beyond the church's protective boundaries. Its hollow eyes watched silently from across the street.
Zahira didn't know how long they had. She didn't know if the church could protect them forever.
When Sajiya and Elyas arrived, Zahira broke down in front of them.
"That man... living with us... it's not Aryan."
"What are you saying?" Elyas asked, frowning.
"I just spoke to the real Aryan. He's still abroad!" Zahira cried. "Whoever that is in our home… it's not him!"
Elyas looked baffled. "This is insane—"
"No!" Zahira interrupted. "Remember that night, the shadow I told you about? The black smoke spirit I saw during the attack? I think it followed me. I think… it took Aryan's form."
Sajiya's face went pale. "But why? What does it want from us?"
"I don't know," Zahira whispered. "Maybe it wants something from me. Or maybe... it wants to finish what he started at that night he want to kill us but holy cross locket
Your father me malik gives us with protecting us from him
Elyas paced in frustration. "This is nonsense. Spirits? Possessions? It's not real—"
"Shut up!" Sajiya shouted. "You weren't there when Zahira risked her life to save us! You don't get to call this nonsense."
Elyas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'll stay. But only to keep you safe."
Outside, the spirit waited, its patience wearing thin. It had seen them enter, watched them linger. It knew this place was a barrier—but barriers could be broken.
Inside, Zahira sat with her back to the altar, staring into nothingness. Her mind raced.
She turned to Elyas. "If it's pretending to be Aryan, it must want something important.
Elyas replied i don't know even I can't believe all this then sajiya says if this was a spirit we have to free from him.
"But how?" Elyas asked. "What can we even do?"
Zahira's eyes turned toward the stained glass windows of the church. "There's something here. I can feel it. This place holds power."
And just then, from the corner of her eye, she saw movement—a flicker of shadow outside the church.
The spirit was waiting.
Watching.
Planning.
To be continued...