Aarav's eyes snapped open.
The world was wrong.
He was lying on the highway, but it wasn't the same one he had known. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, cracked and jagged, glowing faintly like coals under ash. The trees lining it were skeletal, their branches clawing at a sky filled with swirling, black clouds.
The air reeked of iron and smoke. His skin prickled as if unseen fingers traced every inch of him.
Aarav staggered to his feet. The chain was gone from his ankle, but a phantom burn pulsed there with every step. His heart thundered. Where am I?
He shouted, voice trembling. "Hello? Anyone?"
His words fell flat, swallowed by the oppressive silence.
Then a faint laugh echoed. A woman's laugh. It drifted down the endless road, thin and hollow.
The bride.
Aarav spun, scanning the shadows. At the edge of his vision, the veil fluttered. Always distant, never close, yet always watching.
The ground shivered. Aarav stumbled back as the cracked asphalt shifted like water, ripples spreading out beneath him. Faces rose from the surface—ghostly faces of men and women, their mouths open in silent screams.
He gasped, stumbling away, but the road stretched beneath his feet, dragging him forward.
The whispers began.
"He left me… he left me… he left me…", dozens of voices layered over each other, all in her tone.
Aarav clutched his head. "Stop! Please stop!"
The laughter returned, closer now, curling into his ears. "You are in my world now, Aarav. A world built from betrayal. You cannot leave."
He spun in circles, desperate. "Why me? Why drag me here?"
Silence. Then her voice, low and sharp: "Because you didn't look away."
Aarav froze. His mind replayed that night, when he had first seen her on the roadside. He could have driven past. He could have ignored the figure in the veil. But he hadn't. He had stopped. He had looked.
And now he was trapped.
The ground cracked beneath him with a sound like thunder. A fissure tore open, and from it rose a procession—figures in torn wedding garb, their faces twisted, their bodies bound by chains. Grooms and brides, all abandoned, all cursed. They lurched toward him, dragging rusted links across the burning road.
Aarav stumbled back. "No—stay away!"
The nearest groom lunged, his chain snapping toward Aarav's throat. Aarav ducked, scrambling backward. His hand brushed something cold in the rubble. He seized it—a jagged piece of metal. Not much, but enough.
The groom lunged again. Aarav swung blindly, the shard slicing through its chest. The figure screamed, dissolving into ash.
But ten more took its place.
The bride's veil swept closer, her hollow gaze fixed on him. "Do you see? This is the marriage you refused. Endless. Unbroken."
The chains lashed toward him. Aarav bolted, running down the highway, lungs burning. The faces in the road screamed under his feet, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
The sky cracked with lightning, illuminating the endless procession behind him. Brides with torn veils. Grooms with hollow eyes. All chasing. All bound to her.
Aarav's mind reeled. If this is her world, there has to be a way out. A door. A crack. Something.
Ahead, through the storm, he saw it—a flicker of light. Dim, but real.
Hope.
He sprinted, legs screaming, as the whispers grew louder, the chains rattling like thunder.
The bride's voice roared above it all, echoing through the storm.
"You cannot leave me, Aarav. If you run, I will follow. If you fight, I will bind. Forever means forever."
The ground shook violently. The light flickered closer, now taking shape—a roadside inn, its lanterns glowing faintly in the void.
Aarav's chest heaved. The inn… from before.
He dove toward its door just as the chains lashed out, wrapping around his arm. Pain seared through him. He screamed, slamming into the door with all his strength.
The wood splintered, and he tumbled inside.
Silence.
The chains recoiled, hissing, unable to cross the threshold. The whispers faded to nothing.
Aarav collapsed on the floor, gasping, clutching his bleeding arm. He forced his eyes up.
The inn was dimly lit, its furniture coated in dust, cobwebs thick in the corners. Yet candles burned faintly on every table, their flames steady, unnatural.
And behind the counter stood a figure. An old man, face shadowed, eyes glinting faintly.
He smiled slowly, showing teeth too sharp.
"Welcome, traveler," he rasped. "You've stepped into the Inn Between. Few make it here alive."