The world tilted, spinning violently as the chain burned into Aarav's wrist. His scream tore into silence, then was swallowed by a suffocating void.
When his eyes opened again, he was no longer standing on the roadside. The highway, the car, the shadows—gone.
Instead, he was in a brightly lit courtyard. Lanterns swayed overhead, their glow bathing everything in soft gold. Music drifted faintly—shehnai pipes and drums, muffled as though echoing from a great distance.
Aarav's chest heaved. What is this…?
Then he saw her.
The bride.
But not the hollow-eyed spirit that haunted him. This was a young woman, vibrant and smiling, her veil shimmering as friends circled her with laughter. Mehendi glistened on her hands, intricate patterns of love and hope. Her eyes shone with a nervous joy.
For a moment, Aarav's heart twisted. She wasn't a monster. She was human. She had been alive once.
The laughter faltered. A man entered the courtyard—her groom. Tall, restless, his eyes darting like a cornered animal. He carried a box wrapped in silk, and when he bent to greet her, Aarav noticed his trembling hands.
The bride's smile was pure, trusting. She whispered something Aarav couldn't hear. The groom only nodded stiffly. His eyes avoided hers.
The scene warped. The lanterns flickered, the courtyard dissolving into darkness. Now Aarav stood on the highway—years earlier. The same stretch of road, but alive with sound. Wedding guests laughed drunkenly nearby, their shadows weaving under torchlight.
The groom stood alone at Mile Marker 66. His hands gripped the chain.
Aarav's stomach dropped.
The man muttered, voice cracked. "I can't… I can't do this. She's too much. Too binding. I can't be chained."
He hurled the chain onto the ground, its clatter echoing unnaturally loud. Then he mounted a horse waiting by the road and fled into the night.
The bride appeared moments later, veil trailing, searching. "Wait! You promised!" Her voice cracked, raw with betrayal. She ran barefoot, her cries breaking into sobs.
She found the chain lying abandoned. Her trembling hands lifted it. "You said forever…"
The torches sputtered and died. The highway drowned in darkness.
Aarav watched in horror as she collapsed onto the cold earth, her body convulsing with grief. She clutched the chain tight against her chest, rocking, whispering to herself. Hours passed in moments. When dawn's pale light touched her veil, she was still there—motionless.
Her lips were blue. Her fingers stiff.
Dead.
The world cracked like glass.
Suddenly Aarav was back in the present—Mile Marker 66, the cursed night. The bride's corpse-like form loomed before him, veil torn and trailing, eyes blazing with hatred. The chain still bound his wrist, burning deeper into his flesh.
"He left me," she hissed, her voice both hers and not hers. "But you… you stayed. You watched. You saw it all. That makes you mine."
The shadows surged forward again, the wraiths of other travelers groaning as they pressed close. Their faces hovered inches from Aarav's, mouths gaping, eyes accusing.
Aarav yanked against the chain, desperate, blood dripping down his wrist. His voice cracked. "I saw it! I saw what he did to you! But I am not him! I will never be him!"
The bride's scream pierced the air, rattling the trees, shaking the ground beneath him. She pulled the chain, dragging him closer until her icy breath chilled his cheek.
"Then prove it. Bind yourself. Take the chain. Be mine… forever."
Her hollow sockets bored into him, demanding an answer.
Aarav's mind raced. If he agreed, he would be consumed. If he resisted, she would tear him apart like the others. But somewhere deep inside, he felt the faintest spark—pity.
She wasn't just rage. She was heartbreak given form.
His voice wavered, but he forced the words out. "You don't need me… You don't need anyone. You were betrayed, yes. But this—this curse—it isn't justice. It's prison."
The shadows faltered. A few of the wraiths turned their heads, as if hearing something they had long forgotten.
The bride trembled, chain tightening, then loosening. Her veil fluttered violently, as though torn by an invisible storm. Her scream rose again, but this time it was not rage—it was grief. Pure, endless grief.
The chain slipped from Aarav's wrist, clattering to the ground.
For one fleeting second, the bride looked almost free—her face soft, sorrowful, human. Tears streaked her cheeks.
Then, with a final wail, she dissolved into smoke, vanishing into the night. The wraiths scattered, fading into the trees. Silence fell heavy over Mile Marker 66.
Aarav collapsed to his knees, clutching his wrist, breath ragged. The burn throbbed, but the weight of the chain was gone.
But as the silence stretched, his eyes fell to the ground.
The chain still lay there. Rusted. Waiting.
And faintly, almost too soft to hear, a whisper curled around him.
"Not forever… but soon."