The silence on the highway was suffocating. No wind, no insects, not even the distant hum of a vehicle. Aarav stood alone at Mile Marker 66, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths.
The chain lay at his feet, glinting faintly in the moonlight. Its rusted links seemed ordinary now, just cold metal abandoned on cracked asphalt.
But Aarav knew better.
His wrist still throbbed where it had bound him, a burn deeper than flesh. He clenched his fist, testing his strength. His hand shook uncontrollably.
He needed to leave. Now.
Staggering to his car, he slid into the driver's seat. The engine roared after two tries, headlights slicing into the suffocating dark. He glanced into the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the veiled bride sitting behind him. Nothing. Just empty seats.
Relief trembled in his chest. He pressed the accelerator, tires squealing as the car lurched forward.
The trees blurred past, twisted silhouettes against the pale moon. Mile Marker 67… 68… each one a reminder he was moving farther away from that cursed spot.
But the deeper he drove, the heavier the air became. His eyes darted to the dashboard—every light flickered faintly. The speedometer needle wavered.
The radio crackled to life on its own.
Static filled the car, then twisted into a faint melody—wedding music, the shehnai from his vision. Aarav's grip tightened on the wheel. "No… no, no, no…"
A whisper seeped through the speakers.
"Forever isn't over."
The headlights dimmed. The forest swallowed the road, darkness thick as tar pressing against the windshield.
Aarav slammed the brakes. The car shuddered to a stop, engine sputtering. He sat in the suffocating dark, chest pounding, palms slick with sweat.
Then he heard it—metal scraping against asphalt. Slow. Steady. Dragging.
Aarav's heart lurched. He knew that sound.
The chain.
It wasn't behind him anymore. It was under the car.
His stomach turned cold. He shoved the door open and stumbled out, flashlight in hand. The beam cut across the road. Nothing. Just cracked pavement stretching endlessly in both directions.
But then he heard it again.
Scrape… drag… scrape…
The beam of his flashlight trembled as he angled it down.
The chain was there, stretching from beneath the car, links rusted and slick with something dark. It slithered along the road like a living thing, inching toward his leg.
"No—!" Aarav staggered back, nearly dropping the light. His foot caught the loose gravel, and he stumbled, crashing to the ground. The beam spun wildly, catching the trees, the broken road…
And her.
The bride stood at the edge of the beam, veil trailing, her hollow sockets burning white. She didn't move. She didn't need to. The chain moved for her, snaking toward him.
Aarav scrambled backward, blood pounding in his ears. "I freed you! I let go! Why are you still here?"
Her voice cracked the silence, layered with grief and fury.
"Because freedom is not what I asked for."
The chain lunged, wrapping around his ankle. Aarav's scream tore into the night as it burned into flesh. He clawed at it, nails splitting, skin tearing, but the links sank deeper, like roots burrowing under his skin.
The bride stepped closer, the ground beneath her darkening with every footfall. "You carry it now. My pain. My promise. My chain."
Aarav's vision swam. His body convulsed as whispers crowded his ears—hundreds of voices, travelers lost before him. Their cries merged into a suffocating chorus.
"Stop!" he choked out, tears blurring his sight. "I'm not him! I never betrayed you!"
The bride tilted her head. Her voice softened, almost tender.
"Then why do you run?"
Her hand extended, pale and shaking. For a split second, Aarav saw not the ghost, but the woman she had been—the bride abandoned in the night, clutching the chain in despair.
Something inside him faltered.
He whispered, voice breaking, "Because I don't want to die."
Her veil fluttered, and the softness vanished. Her form twisted, stretching, veil blackening like smoke. The chain tightened around his ankle, dragging him across the asphalt. His fingernails scraped sparks as he clawed at the road.
"Then live… as mine."
The last thing Aarav saw before the darkness surged was the veil falling over him, suffocating, binding, consuming.
The forest swallowed his scream.
When silence returned, the highway looked untouched. The car sat abandoned, headlights dimmed. The chain was gone. So was Aarav.
But at Mile Marker 66, the rusted links reappeared—fresh blood still glistening along their length.