the 14 Days

CHAPTER 3

Sanjana sat on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, her fingers clutching the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The dim light of the table lamp cast long shadows across the room, flickering slightly as if mirroring the unrest in her heart. She drew in a shaky breath, her voice trembling as she spoke into the receiver.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered, her words barely above a breath. “I don’t know what to do.”

There was silence on the other end, a stillness that made her throat tighten. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but the weight of the past twenty-four hours bore down on her like an invisible force, suffocating her.

“Last night,” she continued, her voice laced with something between regret and exhaustion, “Vishwa and I had a big argument. A terrible one. You know how things have been between us. Our marriage is… it’s not the same anymore.” Her voice cracked, but she quickly composed herself. “Vishwa says he can’t feel my love anymore, not like the first time we saw each other. He looked at me last night like I was a stranger.”

She let out a nervous chuckle, but there was no humor in it—only the bitter taste of something she couldn’t quite name. The silence on the other end stretched for a few more seconds before a calm voice finally responded.

“Don’t worry,” the person said, their tone eerily steady. “I’m with you. I’ll come over.”

A soft beep signaled the end of the call, but Sanjana didn’t lower the phone right away. Her eyes remained fixed on the black screen, her reflection staring back at her—a face filled with something unreadable, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

She exhaled slowly and set the phone down on the table beside her. The house was silent, unnervingly so. She could hear the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, each second stretching out like an accusation. Her hands trembled as she reached for the glass of water beside her, taking a sip, but the coldness of the liquid did nothing to calm the storm inside her.

Vishwa was gone. And she had no idea where he was. Or did she?

A shiver ran down her spine. She told herself she was scared because she didn’t know what had happened to him. But deep down, another thought gnawed at the edges of her mind—what if she was scared because she did know?

Somewhere in the distance, a car engine hummed to life, its low rumble vibrating through the stillness of the night. Sanjana swallowed hard.

Sanjana stood in the dimly lit doorway, her breath catching as the man stepped inside. He was taller than she remembered, or maybe it was just the weight of the moment that made him seem larger. His dark eyes locked onto hers, unreadable yet knowing, as if he could see straight through the fear she was trying so hard to conceal.

She exhaled shakily, turning away, hugging her own arms. The silence between them was heavy, thick with things left unsaid. She felt his presence move closer, his warmth radiating against her back. She didn’t step away. She couldn’t.

“Sanjana,” his voice was low, steady, the kind of voice that could make anyone believe that everything would be okay—even when it wouldn’t. “Look at me.”

She turned slowly, her eyes meeting his. The moment they did, something inside her cracked, splintering like fragile glass. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this—to see him, to hear his voice, to feel like she wasn’t drowning alone.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Vishwa and I… we fought. And now he’s—” She stopped herself, swallowing hard, as if saying the words out loud would make them real.

The man stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Sanjana stiffened for a moment, her body resisting comfort. But as his arms tightened around her, warmth enveloping her like a shield against the chaos, she let go. A shaky breath left her lips as she buried her face against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “I’m here.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the moment. His scent—clean, familiar, laced with something intoxicating—filled her senses, grounding her. The tension in her shoulders eased just slightly, though the storm inside her still raged.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back just enough to look up at him. “What if someone finds out?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. His touch was gentle, but there was something else beneath it—something dangerous, something possessive.

“No one will,” he said simply.

A shiver ran down her spine. Not from fear. From something else entirely.

The weight of their secret hung between them, thick and suffocating. Yet, in that moment, all she could focus on was the way his hands lingered on her waist, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were about to say something more—but didn’t.

Outside, the night stretched on, the world unaware of the storm brewing inside these walls.

Her fingers trembled as she gripped his arm, holding onto him—not just for comfort, but out of sheer desperation.

“I suspect…” she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath shaky. “…Vishwa knows about us.”

The words hung between them like a dagger suspended in midair, its blade gleaming, waiting to drop.

The man’s expression didn’t change immediately, but there was a flicker—something dark and unreadable passing through his eyes. He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just watched her, his silence pressing down on her like an unseen force.

Sanjana took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “That’s what scares me,” she continued, her voice cracking now. “He looked at me differently last night. He wasn’t just angry. He was watching me, as if he knew something. As if he was waiting for me to slip. And now…” She let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Now he’s gone.”

The man finally moved, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. His calm exterior remained, but there was something lurking beneath the surface, something dangerous.

“You think he found out?” His voice was low, careful.

Sanjana shivered. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely holding together. “But what if he did? What if that’s why he’s missing? What if—”

She stopped herself, her own thoughts too terrifying to voice aloud.

The man stepped closer, his presence towering over her now. His fingers brushed against her chin, tilting her face up toward him. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice slow, deliberate. “You cannot panic. If Vishwa knew, we’ll handle it. But right now, we don’t even know where he is. If you break down, people will start asking questions. You don’t want that. We don’t want that.”

Sanjana stared at him, her breath unsteady. There was something in his tone—something eerily controlled, like he had already thought this through. Like he had considered what to do if Vishwa ever found out.

Her stomach twisted. “You sound so… calm,” she murmured, barely realizing she had spoken the words aloud.

His lips curved into a small, unreadable smile. “One of us has to be.”

Her pulse pounded. Suddenly, the air in the room felt too thick, the walls too close. She had called him for comfort, for reassurance—but now, a new kind of fear curled around her spine.

What if she wasn’t just afraid of Vishwa knowing?

What if she should be afraid of the man standing right in front of her?

A soft chime echoed through the room—her phone, vibrating on the table. Sanjana flinched at the sound, her skin prickling.

Slowly, she turned her head toward it. The screen was glowing.

Unknown Number.

Her heart stopped.

The man followed her gaze, then looked back at her, his expression suddenly unreadable.

“Answer it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Sanjana hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the phone, her pulse hammering so loudly that she could barely hear anything else.

Then, slowly, she pressed her thumb against the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence.

And then—

A slow, measured breath on the other end.

And a voice.

Cold. Familiar.

“I know.”

The line went dead.

Sanjana’s blood turned to ice. The phone slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the floor with a sharp clatter.

The man reached for her, gripping her arms. “Sanjana.” His voice was firm, steady. “Who was that?”

But she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t breathe.

Because she knew that voice.

It was Vishwa.

And he was watching.