Far away from the noise and rush of the city, nestled among the peaceful hills of Himachal, was a quiet little town named Nehru Valley. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, where the winds carried forgotten stories, and where people came to escape, to heal.
Riya, a 26-year-old photographer from Delhi, had come here for just that — to escape. Tired of the chaos of city life, a failed relationship, and the endless pressure of her career, she wanted silence… peace… maybe even answers.
On her very first morning, camera slung around her neck, she wandered into the forest trails just beyond her homestay. Sunlight streamed through the trees, painting golden patches on the ground. Birds chirped softly. And then… she saw him.
A man standing across the small wooden bridge, looking directly at her.
He was tall, wearing a dark jacket, his face partly hidden by the morning mist. But what caught her attention — and unsettled her — were his eyes.
They weren't threatening… but they weren't friendly either. Just… unreadable. As if they held stories he wouldn't speak.
She blinked.
He was gone.