Chapter 1- The Massage
At midnight.
Somewhere deep in a forgotten jungle. Isolated. Silent. Drenched in shadows.
Inside a small wooden cabin, the only sounds were the cruel ticking of an old wall clock, the occasional rustle of leaves, the distant hum of insects, and the faint crackle of firewood in the stone fireplace.
A man sat motionless on a creaking chair, body slumped yet tense, gaze fixed on the flames, as if searching for answers in them. His mind was far from this moment, lost somewhere he couldn’t escape.
This wasn’t solitude. This was punishment. For years, he had lived here. Cut off from the world. From people. From life itself.
Beside him, a half-filled glass of untouched whiskey sat on a dusty table. The fire’s glow cast broken shadows on the walls.
His silhouette flickered. Strong-built. Broad shoulders. Disheveled curls. An unkempt beard hiding his hardened jaw. His eyes—hollow. Lifeless. Lips pressed into a tight line. His fingers twitched now and then—a silent war raging inside him.
His name was Rivan.
A former special forces soldier.
Once, the uniform meant something. Saving lives. Protecting people.
But war had changed him. The last mission… had broken whatever humanity remained. He no longer trusted people.
He didn’t trust himself.
Every day, he drowned in memories he longed to forget—the faces of those he couldn’t save. Their screams haunted him. The scent of blood lingered. And all of it… because of orders and protocols.
His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. His breathing heavy. Jaw locked so hard it hurt. He hadn’t joined to obey orders. He had joined to save lives.
And yet… that night… he’d watched them die. His body trembled.
Before anger could consume him, his phone vibrated. A sharp sound in the silence. Out of place.
He frowned. He hadn’t heard that sound in months. Maybe longer. No one ever contacted him.
Slowly, he picked up the dust-coated phone, wiping the screen with his thumb, expecting nothing but some network alert.
But then… his brows furrowed. For the first time in months, his heartbeat changed.
"Please help me. He’s watching me. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared."
A pause.
"I sent it to the wrong number, didn’t I?"
Rivan’s body stiffened.
He stared. The fire crackled behind him. The shadows shifted. But he didn’t move. His finger hovered over the screen.
He could ignore it. Block the number. Switch off the phone and sink back into his guilt. But those words…
The fear. The desperation. The plea. They hit a place he’d buried deep.
That same helpless voice from his last mission—the one he couldn’t save.
His throat tightened. His hand shook slightly. After a long battle within himself, he finally typed:
"Who’s watching you?"
His eyes locked on the screen, unblinking, afraid looking away might make the message vanish. Minutes crawled.
Then finally… another message.
"I don’t know if I should answer. You’re a stranger."
Rivan ran a hand down his face, rubbing the exhaustion from his skin. His heart—a muscle long forgotten—thudded louder in his chest.
He could feel her fear. Not just read it. He felt it.
Why had she messaged him? Why now? He typed slowly:
"True. I’m a stranger. But I’m also someone who’s listening."
Silence followed. His fingers curled tighter around the phone. He waited. And then… a voice note arrived.
His thumb hovered. For the first time in years… Rivan hesitated. Not from fear of danger.
But from fear that hearing her voice might break something inside him. Yet… He pressed play.
Chapter 2- The Voice Note
“My name is Divya… I’m a freelancer… living in a quiet corner of Dehradun… or at least, it used to be quiet.”
Her voice cracked. Trembling. Almost a whisper. But beneath that fragile tone, Rivan heard something deeper.
Terror.
He sat frozen, back stiff against the wooden chair, holding the phone close, as if letting it slip even slightly would make her vanish.
She wasn’t just scared—she was shattered.
Her voice continued, soft and hesitant, each word cutting through the heavy silence of his cabin.
“Someone’s been following me for weeks. And… unfortunately… I know him. Someone I thought I escaped.”
There it was—that quivering tone. She was swallowing her tears, forcing herself to speak.
Rivan closed his eyes, jaw clenched, breath uneven. He could feel her fear pressing against his chest.
“He’s my ex-fiancé. A businessman. Abusive. Obsessive. Controlling.”
Her confession wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t dramatic. It was defeated.
A woman too tired to pretend she was fine anymore.
She had fought this battle alone for weeks. And now, in the middle of her fear, she had no one. No one… except the stranger who answered her wrong number.
Rivan.
He ran a hand over his face, the heaviness inside him spreading.
“I left him a year ago after he hurt me. I thought it was over.” A pause. Then, her voice broke.
“But it wasn’t.”
Now, Rivan could hear her crying. Not loud sobs. But the dangerous, silent kind—the kind where even breathing feels like a risk.
Her tone dropped to a whisper, as if afraid someone could hear her through the walls.
She wasn’t imagining things. She was hunted. And Rivan felt it in every word.
“He found me again.”
Her breathing filled the seconds between her words. He could see it now: a woman trapped inside her apartment, lights off, windows locked, but feeling completely exposed.
“He watches from outside my building. Leaves things at my door. Never shows his face… but I know it’s him. I feel him. Like smoke choking me. I’ve locked everything… and still… he knows.”
Rivan’s knuckles whitened around the phone. She was suffocating in her own home, a hostage to her fear. And no one believed her.
How long had she waited for someone to answer? His throat tightened. Of all people, she had reached him. A wrong number.
And yet… maybe not. Rivan stood abruptly, pacing the small cabin. His mind raced.
Call the police. Let this go. He wasn’t a savior anymore. He typed quickly.
“Call 112. File a complaint. Let them handle it.”
He waited. Hoping she’d listen. But her reply came as another voice note.
He pressed play. “I did. I filed a complaint.”
Her voice—fragile, yet carrying quiet despair.
“But… he’s powerful. Respected. They believed him. He said I’m paranoid… unstable… That I need mental help. They told me to see a therapist.”
Rivan’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t just stalked. She was gaslighted by everyone meant to protect her. Then came her final words. Barely a whisper.
“Please… help me somehow. He’s dangerous… He can kill me… or worse… he can torture me…”
Her voice cracked completely. She wasn’t a woman seeking advice. She was begging for her life.
Rivan’s chest burned. His breathing harsh. Something inside him cracked open—something sealed off for years.
He could hear it now. Her loneliness. Her helplessness. Her breaking point. She wasn’t pretending anymore. She was crumbling.
And she had no one else. Except him. Rivan stood motionless, shadows swallowing him as the fire flickered behind. His heartbeat pounded.
For the first time in years… he felt fear. Not for himself. For someone else.
He paced restlessly, everything inside him screaming to let this go. To block her. To walk away.
But he remembered what silence had cost him once before. And now… it knocked again.
In the form of a broken girl’s whispered plea.
Rivan stared down at his phone. And whispered to himself.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” But deep down… He already knew the answer.
Chapter 3 – A Man with Scars
Rivan didn’t sleep that night.
He couldn’t.
He paced the length of his small, shadowed cabin, over and over, replaying the messages… listening to the voice notes again and again… hearing her voice like an echo in his mind.
Divya. Her fear wasn’t just in her words. It was in her silence. In her pauses. In her broken breathing.
A sound like that didn’t leave a man easily. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to any woman.
Longer still since he’d let someone’s pain touch him. He thought he had burned out whatever piece of him once cared.
But something about her voice… about her helplessness…
It stirred something inside him.
Something he thought he had buried long ago on the battlefield.
He sat down near the dying fireplace, his body slumped forward, elbows on his knees, staring into the last flickering flames.
And the past came rushing back.
The screams. The blood. The orders that chained him. The innocents he couldn’t save.
Rivan clenched his fists, digging his nails into his skin until it burned. His heart raced painfully in his chest.
If only he had listened to his instincts that night.
If only he hadn’t obeyed protocol.
If only he had followed his heart… instead of orders.
But "if only".
He rubbed his hands harshly through his hair, gripping his skull, trying to block out the flood of voices screaming in his head.
But they wouldn’t stop. Not tonight.
With shaking hands, he opened Divya’s last message again. The words blurred before his eyes. His finger hovered over the screen, hesitating.
Could he give her hope? Could he tell her he would help… when he wasn’t even sure he could save her?
What if he failed her… the way he failed before?
His hands trembled. He closed his eyes. Took a slow, shaky breath. And made a choice.
The next morning, with dark circles under his tired eyes, he opened her chat again.
This time, he didn’t hesitate. His fingers typed few simple words:
“I’m coming to Dehradun.”
His thumb lingered over the send button but he forced himself to press it.
Then he sat back. Staring at the message. Biting his fingernail, something he hadn’t done in years. He wasn’t just tense.
He was afraid. Not of the man stalking Divya. Not of the physical fight that might await him. But of something worse.
What if he couldn’t keep his promise… again?
He shook his head sharply, forcing the memories back.
He didn’t want to think about that day.
That mission.
The blood. The cries. The lifeless faces of the innocents who trusted him. He slammed his eyes shut, pressing his knuckles against his forehead.
Focus. Focus on Divya. Not the past. Not the guilt. But no matter how hard he tried, the memories roared louder in his head, pulling him under. His pulse raced, sweat trickling down his back.
Until—Buzz.
His phone vibrated.
The sound snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.
Breathing heavily, body drenched in cold sweat, he forced himself to look at the screen.
A new message. From her.
“What? Why?”
Her confusion was genuine.
Rivan swallowed the lump in his throat and typed immediately, his fingers moving on instinct.
“To help you.” Simple. Direct.
No more questions.
But her reply came after a pause.
“You don’t even know me.”
He let the silence hang between them for a moment, as if her words echoed through the walls of his cabin.
And then, without thinking, he replied.
“You didn’t know me either. And still, you reached out.”
As soon as he sent it, his fingers hovered again.
He wasn’t even sure why he said that.
He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Why help a stranger?
Why let himself feel anything after all these years?
Because somewhere deep down…
He knew the answer.
He wasn’t just helping her. He was trying to save the part of himself he thought had died.
The screen stayed still. No reply. Just those three little dots, blinking on and off.
For too long. He stared at them, his breath held in his throat.
Until— “Thank you.”
That was all. Two words. But they hit him harder than a bullet.
His lips curved, just slightly.
A smile. Faint. Fleeting. Gone in a heartbeat.
He looked at his own reaction, almost surprised by it. But the warmth vanished from his face almost instantly, replaced by the same blank, hardened expression.
Without wasting another moment, he stood up.
His body moved like muscle memory.
He packed his backpack—silent, efficient.
His licensed gun. A knife. Extra rounds. A flashlight. Minimal supplies. Just what he needed. He wasn’t going in as a savior. He was going in as a soldier.
Out of habit. For protection. Not for war.
He stepped outside the cabin for the mission, for the first time in years. The cold morning air bit at his skin. The forest smelled the same. Dead. Empty.
Just like his life had been. But this time… He was walking toward something.
Toward someone. He took a deep breath, looked out at the mist-covered road stretching ahead of him, and started his journey.
To Dehradun. To the girl whose broken voice pulled him back from the dead. To Divya.
To the one stranger who made him feel alive again.
Whether he wanted to or not.
Chapter 4 – The First Meeting
Rivan asked for her address. And now... he stood outside her door.
His eyes scanned everything. The hallway. The door frame. The ceiling corners. Any odd glint. Any sign of tampering. He looked for hidden cameras, for wires, for anything that didn't belong.
His instincts were sharp. His breathing steady. Then... he knocked.
Three firm raps. Silence. He stood perfectly still, listening.
A faint sound—a muffled rustle. Slow footsteps approaching. But hesitant. Like someone too afraid to move, yet too desperate to hide.
He waited. No response. He knocked again, louder this time. Minutes stretched. Nothing. A voice, calm yet firm, cut through the silence.
"It's me, Divya. Rivan. The one you asked for help."
He realized, just then, that he had never told her his name.
He waited. And then—the door jerked open.
Divya stood there. A fragile shadow in the dim corridor light.
Her eyes met his—and Rivan felt her fear as if it radiated off her skin.
But strangely... her body moved before her mind did.
She threw herself into his arms. Tight. Desperate.
Her body shook as she sobbed into his chest, clutching him like he was the last solid thing in a collapsing world.
Rivan stood frozen. She felt weightless, yet heavy in his arms. He didn't return the hug, but he didn't push her away either.
Her apartment behind her was a black hollow. No lights. No sunlight. Everything inside the flat was drenched in shadows.
He could smell dust. Fear. The faint sting of sweat and tears.
The place felt... suffocating.
After a minute, Divya realized what she'd done. She pulled away suddenly, wiping her face hurriedly, her gaze dropping to the floor in shame.
"I'm sorry. I was carried away with... sudden relief."
"Please... come in."
Her voice was hoarse. Tired. Her eyes swollen and red from sleepless nights and endless crying.
Rivan didn't speak. He simply followed. Inside, the apartment looked like a mind unraveling.
Everything was scattered. Furniture half-moved. Curtains drawn, taped at the edges to block any cracks. Dishes in the sink. Dust on the shelves.
She had locked herself inside this place... but the fear still found her.
They sat in the living room. Silence stretched between them.
Rivan kept his voice low. Calm. Careful not to scare her more than she already was.
He asked simple questions. Where was she last followed? What did the man look like? What threats had she received?
His tone was steady. His words few. His presence... solid. And for the first time in months... Divya felt something new.
Safe.
Later that night, Rivan unfolded a thin blanket over the couch, propping a pillow under his head. But sleep wasn't his plan.
He was going to stay awake. And watch. She watched him too... uncertain, but less alone.
Rivan stood up after a while. Then he spoke, introducing himself — "I'm Rivan, former special forces." To which she nodded her head, with a small smile.
His gaze moved slowly across her apartment, as if seeing something she couldn't.
"I need to check your bedroom. And bathroom. If that's okay." She hesitated... then nodded.
She followed him like a child trailing behind a parent.
He searched with trained eyes. Scanning walls. Ceilings. The base of furniture. Every small shadow. Every crack. Divya watched in silence.
But then, softly, her voice broke the air.
"What are you looking for?"
Her tone was quieter. Not as scared now. Just confused. Rivan paused only briefly before answering.
"Didn't you say... he knows your every move? Even with your windows shut. Doors locked."
He looked back at her. "I'm checking for hidden cameras. Microchips."
Her heart stopped. "What?" Disbelief. Pure disbelief.
Rivan crouched near a corner of her ceiling. "Stay calm. I'm here now."
He didn't stop searching. Until... his fingers touched something. A slight indentation. Too small to notice.
Rivan's jaw tightened. He unscrewed the spot carefully... and pulled out a small hidden camera. Micro-sized.
Divya's knees nearly gave out. He showed her the camera in his palm. Her breathing faltered. She backed away without realizing. Her safe space... wasn't safe at all.
Rivan didn't speak. He kept searching. He found two more cameras in the bathroom. Another in the kitchen.
Two more in the living room itself, hidden within air vents and an old light fixture. Seven cameras. Five microchips.
Divya clung to the wall now, her face pale. Her voice barely escaped her throat.
Her nightmare was real. All night, she sat awake. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow. She refused to let Rivan out of her sight.
She was terrified. Rivan sat across from her, alert, watching every shadow.
Then, out of nowhere, Divya whispered—
"Why are you helping me?"
Rivan didn't look at her. But after a pause... his voice cut through the silence.
"Because someone should have helped me once."
"And they didn't."
His voice held no anger. Just pain. A heavy, hollow kind of pain.
Divya said nothing. She just looked at him. Understanding something without needing the details.
Finally, he spoke softly. "You should sleep. Don't worry. I'm here now."
She nodded, silent, her body giving up. She walked slowly to her bedroom.
For the first time in weeks... she allowed herself to lie down. And Rivan? He sat in the shadows.
Silent. Watching. Protecting. And waiting for whatever darkness was coming next.
Chapter 5 – Fear and Comfort
The next day, they handed over all the cameras and microchips to the police and filed a complaint. She gave the name of her ex, but they said this evidence wasn’t solid enough to prove him guilty.
And she’s blaming a good man. Defeated, they went back.
The next few days changed something between them.
Something neither of them expected.
Rivan and Divya grew closer.
Not through words. Not through any confessions. But simply by existing beside each other.
Their presence became a quiet kind of comfort. A silent understanding. No questions. No explanations. When Divya woke up screaming from nightmares… Rivan was there.
When Rivan’s past pulled him under again… he found her watching him silently, offering nothing but her presence.
And sometimes… that was enough. But the danger hadn’t stopped. In fact, it grew darker.
Divya found more parcels left outside her door. Sometimes, a doll. Drenched in blood. Sometimes, a bouquet of ninety-nine roses.
Creepy. Romantic. Both.
How could a person be both? Creepy and romantic? Only a psychopath could do that. And worse… it was the same person.
Her ex. Each parcel felt like a message. A reminder that she was being watched. That she was trapped. That no matter how many locks she bolted, he was close.
Divya trembled when she found them. But the moment she saw Rivan beside her—calm, steady, unflinching—her fear eased. She wasn’t alone anymore.
She cooked while he repaired the broken locks. He installed a new security system, adding cameras at every entry point.
He taught her to carry pepper spray in her hand, not her purse. How to breathe when fear choked her. How to walk like she wasn’t prey. How to survive until help came. He didn’t overwhelm her. He didn’t push her. But silently… he trained her.
To fight. To endure. To stay alive.
Rivan never asked questions. But Divya found herself speaking. She didn’t know when it started.
Maybe it was his silence that allowed her words to fall out. She told him about her past. About how her ex made her feel like she wasn’t enough.
How she stopped trusting her own thoughts. How she questioned her worth every single day. She told him about the nightmares.
The way she’d wake up gasping, convinced someone was inside her apartment. For months, she carried all that alone.
But now… she let it spill. And Rivan. He listened. Quiet. Steady. Like stone.
And sometimes, just sometimes, he spoke too. Not much. Just pieces. Fragments of a past he never shared with anyone.
About the mission that ruined him. The people he couldn’t save. The blood on his hands. The screams.
How he became the monster that night.
“I became the monster. I left them to die,” he said once, staring at the night sky, his voice hollow.
Divya looked at him then. Not with fear. Not with pity. But with something different.
Something that made him turn, confused, to meet her eyes.
“I don’t think so,” she said softly.
“I see a man trying to save whatever goodness he has left. The humanity inside him.”
Her words weren’t dramatic. They were simple. But they hit him harder than bullets.
For the first time in years… someone didn’t see the killer.
She saw the man. And he couldn’t find words to reply.
He just watched her. Silently.
From that night, things shifted between them.
Slowly, cautiously, he encouraged her to open the windows during the day.
Let sunlight in. Let air touch her skin again.
And surprisingly… she trusted him enough to do it.
She breathed fresh air for the first time in weeks.
And when she did, she looked at him.
Her silent thank you. One night, during a sudden power cut, the entire city fell into darkness. Divya lit a few candles.
They sat on the floor, between flickering shadows, neither speaking.
A quiet wrapped around them. Her hand brushed his.
Accidentally.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them pulled away.
In that brief touch, something shifted. Something neither wanted to name. But both felt it. Rivan broke the silence first.
His voice was low, fragile, almost afraid.
“Don’t expect more from me, Divya. I’m broken.”
Divya didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned to him.
Her fingers gently touched his chin, turning his face towards her.
Her eyes met his. And for once… he didn’t look away.
“So am I,” she whispered.
“Maybe… we can be less broken together.”
Her voice cracked on the last word. She stared into his eyes.
Stared long enough for him to feel something shift in his chest.
A feeling he hadn’t allowed in years. But tonight… it came. And he didn’t fight it.
For a moment… Silence. Two broken people. Sitting in the dark.
Trying, somehow, to feel whole again.
Together.
Chapter 6 – The Confrontation
The danger wasn’t gone. Not even close.
One morning, a new message found its way to them—not on the phone, but worse.
A note.
Slipped quietly under the door. Rivan spotted it first. His body went still.
Divya picked it up with trembling fingers, her pulse hammering.
The words were sharp. Cruel.
“You think he can protect you? He doesn’t know me like you do.”
Her hands shook violently.
Her body stumbled back, crashing into the wall, her breathing fractured.
Rivan’s jaw clenched tight. His knuckles whitened. The threat wasn’t just real—it was here.
Watching. That night, Rivan didn’t sleep. He sat in silence, waiting.
Eyes fixed on the multiple security camera feeds he had set up. Silent. Motionless. Focused.
He knew the man would come. And he did.
Near midnight, shadows stirred near the blind spots. Rivan watched him.
Cunning. Careful. Trying to avoid the cameras.
Rivan could have stopped him outside. But he didn’t.
He let him in. Silently, coldly, he prepared for what was coming.
The door clicked open. A figure slipped inside, moving like a snake.
But he wasn’t fast enough. Rivan moved first.
The man lunged at him, blade in hand—but Rivan dodged smoothly, like muscle memory, and drove his fist hard into the man’s face.
A sickening crack echoed in the silence. The man staggered.
It was him. Divya’s ex.
The predator. “You think this little piece of shit can save you? Huh?” the man hissed, spitting blood, fury twisting his face. Looking at Divya's shivering form.
He charged again. But Rivan was trained for worse. He dodged. Countered.
Punched him again—this time in the ribs. Another blow to the jaw. The fight was brutal but short.
For Rivan, it wasn’t a fight. It was a calculation.
Within seconds, the man was on the ground, gasping for breath. Rivan dragged him to the center of the living room.
Tied him to a chair with practiced precision. The man laughed, blood dripping from his mouth.
“You think you’ve won?”
“I put every damn camera in this place. Every chip. I watched her every move. She’s mine to devour. To capture. To play with.”
His voice wasn’t human. It was something darker. Madness.
“And you think your pathetic police can touch me?” he spat, laughing like a maniac.
“I’m untouchable. She’s mine, baby. Mine. I’ll take you back. Lock you in my palace where I’m the king and you’re my little toy.”
Divya stood frozen. She couldn’t move. Her back pressed against the wall. Her body shaking.
Tears streamed silently down her face. Rivan saw her. Saw her breaking. And that was the only trigger he needed.
Without hesitation, he slammed a punch into the man’s face again. But this time… he held back just enough.
He didn’t lose control. Rivan stepped back. Took a breath.
And did what needed to be done. He called the police. Calm. Efficient. Collected.
While waiting, he silently retrieved the hidden camera feed—recording every word, every threat, every laugh of the man tied to the chair.
Evidence. Enough to bury him. Minutes later, blue lights flashed outside.
Rivan handed the man over. No words. No explanations. Just hard evidence.
Divya watched from the doorway. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.
She just stood there as the monster who haunted her every waking moment was dragged out of her home in handcuffs.
Dragged out of her life. And then… silence. For the first time in months. She looked at Rivan.
Her voice broke as she spoke. “You came into my life… by mistake.”
She wiped her tears, sobbing softly.
“But you freed me… from my worst nightmare.” Rivan shook his head slowly.
For a moment, his hard, guarded expression softened.
Just a little. “No,” he said quietly.
“That message… it wasn’t a mistake.”
Divya looked at him. And understood. They both did. Fate had its reasons.
And sometimes… strangers were the only ones who could save you.
Chapter 7 – Not the End
Rivan stayed a few more days. They talked more. Sometimes, they even laughed.
And sometimes… when they thought the other wasn’t watching… they cried. On the last night, Rivan stood near the door. His backpack slung over his shoulder.
His eyes unreadable. Ready to leave.
“I should go,” he said finally, his voice low and heavy, like something anchoring him down.
Divya stood still. Her throat tightened.
“You don’t have to,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Rivan looked at her. But he didn’t step closer.
His silence said more than words could. “I’m still trying to figure out… who I am without the uniform,” he admitted softly, his eyes distant.
Divya’s gaze held him. “You’re the man who showed up… when I needed him the most.”
Her voice trembled. But her sincerity didn’t. Rivan’s defenses wavered.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then… she reached for his hand.
Slowly. Cautiously. But she did.
“I don’t need you to stay forever,” she whispered, looking down.
“But maybe… we both need someone to come home to… once in a while.”
Rivan didn’t answer. But he didn’t leave. Not that night. He stayed.
And something shifted. That night, two broken souls sat together. Side by side.
And silently, they cracked their own walls—the walls built from fear, guilt, shattered trust, and past mistakes.
Together… they let themselves be human again. Not perfect. Not whole. But healing.
Months passed.
Rivan didn’t leave. Not completely. He didn’t return to the army. Nor to the silent forests he once called home.
He stayed. Not all the time. But enough.
He and Divya were never perfect. But they weren’t alone anymore. They were healing. Together. And strangely…
It all started with a wrong number. But maybe… It was never a mistake at all.
React
