POV: Nivaan
Breathing felt borrowed. Like my lungs were on a trial period, learning a skill they should have mastered long ago.
I sat on Kiyan's bed, knees pulled up, nails pressing into my arms. My body wasn't cold—but it shivered, a glitch in the system trying to recalibrate.
Kiyan paced. Carpet creaked.
"You're not… okay," he muttered, hands in his hair. "This isn't normal."
"Thanks," I said. Dry. "Very reassuring."
He stopped. Really looked at me, eyes wide.
"You died," he whispered. "And now you're… here. Breathing. Talking."
I wanted to say something clever. Something sarcastic. But the words stuck.
Because admitting it made it real.
I died.
Then… didn't.
A sharp pulse throbbed behind my eyes. Like something knocking from inside my skull.
Then I heard it.
Breathing. Not mine. Close.
I jerked upright.
"What?" Kiyan asked.
"You hear that?" I said, scanning the room. Walls. Window. Door. Nothing.
"Nothing," I muttered. "Forget it."
But my body wouldn't forget.
Kiyan finally asked the question I dreaded.
"Nivaan… what do you remember? About… before?"
The morgue. Cold metal. Fluorescent lights humming. Being pulled from darkness by something I couldn't name.
"I remember dying," I said.
His face went pale.
"And then… I opened my eyes. Someone was there."
"Someone?"
I nodded.
"I didn't see their face. But they were close. Watching. Whispered something… 'Not him.'"
Kiyan's skin drained of color.
"Not him? Meaning… they wanted someone else?"
I rubbed my neck. "I don't know. There's a gap. Like… someone edited me."
Before Kiyan could speak, his phone buzzed.
"Avni," he said.
I stiffened. She had been part of this since the beginning. She knew things I remembered and things I didn't.
"She's sending something," Kiyan said, scrolling.
"They're coming here," he added.
I swallowed. They could see me. They could see what I'd become.
The doorbell rang. Twice.
Kiyan went. I stayed rigid.
Avni entered first. Recognition hit her like a brick. She froze—not shocked, not afraid—but… certain.
"You," she whispered.
I felt a spark of memory. Familiarity. But I couldn't place it.
"Of course I know you," I said carefully. "I just… can't remember how."
Her eyes flickered. Hurt, confusion, anger—quickly buried under control.
"You came to my office before… this," she said. "You were scared. Someone was after you."
A memory teased the edges of my mind. Fear. A warning. Whispers of something more.
"And you said," she lowered her voice, "if you died… it wouldn't be the end."
The words hit like a hammer.
Kiyan leaned forward. "You WHAT?"
"I don't remember," I admitted. But my body remembered. Muscle memory of fear and survival.
Meher's eyes were calm, sharp, calculating.
"What else?" she asked Avni.
"You said you weren't the first," Avni murmured. "And you wouldn't be the last."
Silence. Heavy. Crushing.
"So he knew," Meher said softly.
"Knew what?"
"That death wasn't permanent."
Cold. Every cell in me went icy.
A fragment of memory—sensory, not visual—flashed: a hand, cold. A voice: Wake up.
I flinched.
"You remember something," Meher said.
"I… heard someone. They wanted me awake," I admitted.
Avni's brow knitted.
I felt it again—the breathing. Not mine. Close. Now. In the room.
My pulse spiked.
I turned toward the window. Nothing. No wind. But the curtain shifted.
Kiyan followed my gaze.
"Bro…?"
Before I could warn them, reality flickered. For half a second, I saw a hallway. Dim blue lights. Figures moving.
Then it vanished.
Avni grabbed my arm.
"I'm okay," I lied.
Meher's voice was calm, deadly calm.
"What did you see?"
"A place," I whispered. "Someone… watching me."
Meher and Avni exchanged a glance.
"Not just watching," Meher murmured. "Monitoring."
"Why?"
Slowly: "Because someone didn't bring you back. They… took you back."