By midweek, Meera noticed things shifting around her. Not dramatically, not loudly—just little changes that made her skin crawl.
Her seat in class was never taken anymore. Always the one she preferred, right near the window.
The café barista started serving her coffee exactly how she liked it, without her asking. Two sugars, no milk.
And when she submitted her assignment online, the professor's feedback came back glowing—far too glowing. The kind of praise students usually earned only after weeks of polishing.
"Excellent formatting," the comments read. "Very thorough. Professional standard."
Her stomach twisted. She hadn't polished anything.
Later that day, Priya waved her phone at her, grinning. "Guess what? The debate club's law panel wants me on their team! Can you believe it?"
Meera smiled weakly. "That's great."
"Yeah, and you know who recommended me?" Priya waggled her brows. "Your shadow. Aarav Malhotra himself."
Meera froze. "He what?"
Priya laughed. "Relax, Joshi. He's not all bad. Honestly, I think he just wants to impress you through me."
But all Meera could hear was the steady hammer in her chest.
It wasn't just her anymore.
He was weaving himself into the lives around her.
That evening, she tried to lose herself in photography. She spent hours editing, determined to focus on something that was hers. Something untouched.
But when she opened her latest folder, her breath caught.
The watermark was different.
Her name was there, yes—but beneath it, in faint letters, another tag had appeared: "Secured by AM."
Her blood ran cold. She hadn't put it there.
She hadn't even seen the option in her editing software.
By the time she stumbled back to her dorm, she was shaking. Priya was out, the room empty. Meera collapsed onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest.
Her phone buzzed.
Aarav: You're safe. Don't panic.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to respond.
Another buzz.
Aarav: Stop overthinking. I'll always make sure what's yours stays yours.
Her chest tightened. He thought this was reassurance. To him, every intrusion was protection. Every stolen choice, devotion.
And that terrified her.
The next morning, the suffocation spread further.
Her professor paused at the end of class. "Meera, I've nominated your project for the departmental showcase. Excellent work."
Meera stammered. "I—I didn't—"
But he had already moved on.
Rohan clapped her on the shoulder. "Congrats, Joshi! Looks like someone's finally recognizing your talent."
She forced a smile, but her stomach churned.
She hadn't submitted anything showcase-worthy.
She knew who had.
That night, she typed a single message.
Stop interfering in my life.
The reply came instantly.
Aarav: I'm not interfering. I'm fixing.
Her hands shook as she typed back: You're destroying me.
A pause. Then—
Aarav: No. I'm keeping you.
She threw the phone aside, burying her face in her pillow. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks, half from rage, half from the helplessness pressing in on her.
Because she was starting to believe him.
Her life wasn't hers anymore.
It was his.
And the worst part?
Some traitorous part of her wasn't sure she wanted it back.