Aarohi didn't faint.
She didn't scream.
She didn't run.
She simply… froze.
Her body shut down like someone had unplugged her from reality, leaving her locked between the living world and the memories she wasn't ready to face.
Arin held her tightly, his arms shaking.
"Aarohi, look at me—please—just look at me!"
But she couldn't.
Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing him.
She was seeing the corner.
The corner where the shadow had moved.
The corner where she felt a presence older than this life, older than memory, older than her own heartbeat.
Arin forced her head gently against his chest, shielding her view.
"Don't look," he whispered fiercely. "Don't look at him."
But Aarohi's voice slipped out, soft, hollow, barely human:
"He's not… hurting me."
Arin felt something inside him break.
Because in that moment, she didn't sound like she belonged to him, or their family, or this life.
She sounded like she belonged to someone else.
Someone dead.
Someone haunting her.
Someone she couldn't let go of.
"Aarohi," Arin whispered, voice cracked, "please don't go back into that memory."
Aarohi slowly blinked, her lashes damp with tears.
Her breath trembled.
"I'm not going into the memory," she whispered.
"It's coming into me."
Arin's heart stopped.
"What does that mean?"
Aarohi lifted her shaking hand and placed it on her chest.
"It hurts… but not like pain. It hurts like… recognition."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Like a part of me knows him."
Arin looked away quickly, because jealousy flashed so sharply in his chest he couldn't breathe.
"Aarohi… you can't—"
But she cut him off.
"He said he found me."
Arin's jaw clenched hard.
"I heard you," he whispered. "You don't have to repeat it."
But Aarohi wasn't repeating it.
She was confessing.
Softly.
Brokenly.
"He's been searching for me since the night we died," she whispered.
"And now he knows where I am."
Arin stood up quickly, pacing the room like a storm ready to erupt.
"Aarohi, this isn't love," he snapped.
"It's obsession. It's trauma. It's your brain mixing memories with fear!"
Aarohi shook her head.
"It doesn't feel like obsession."
"Then what does it feel like?!" Arin demanded, eyes blazing.
Aarohi hesitated.
Her lips parted.
Her voice cracked—
"Like he belongs to my past."
Arin's expression shattered.
He sat in front of her again, his knees touching hers, voice trembling.
"And what about your present? Does that mean nothing?"
Aarohi's heart twisted painfully.
"You mean everything to me."
"Then don't let him in!"
Aarohi looked away, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I'm not letting him in… he's already inside."
Arin squeezed his eyes shut.
"Aarohi, please… I'm begging you… stay here. With me. With us. Don't let him pull you away."
Aarohi whispered:
"I don't want to go anywhere. But I don't know how to stop the memories."
Her hands trembled.
"The more he comes… the more I remember."
Arin swallowed hard.
"And what did you remember today?"
Aarohi hesitated… then whispered:
"I remembered… his hand touching mine."
Arin felt his heart tear.
Her voice softened.
"We were lying on the road. Rain everywhere. And he reached for me."
Tears slipped down.
"And I reached back."
Arin froze.
"Aarohi," he whispered, "please stop…"
But she couldn't.
She had to say it.
Her voice trembled.
"I wasn't alone when I died. He was holding onto me."
Arin looked like he might break right in front of her.
He whispered harshly:
"That doesn't mean he can take you from this life."
Aarohi looked at him with red, exhausted eyes.
"He's not taking me. He's haunting me with memories."
Arin grabbed her face gently but desperately.
"Then fight them!"
Aarohi's chin wobbled.
"I'm trying… but every time he comes closer… it feels like my heart knows him."
Arin's voice broke completely.
"Aarohi… do you feel something for him?"
Aarohi froze.
Her breath caught.
Her tears didn't fall—
they stilled.
She looked away.
And whispered the truth that terrified her most:
"I feel… connected."
Arin's face crumpled.
He pulled away from her, running a hand through his hair.
"Aarohi… you're breaking me…"
Aarohi's lips trembled.
"I'm breaking too."
Arin sank to the floor again and took her hands.
"Tell me one thing," he whispered.
"One thing I need to hear."
Aarohi stared at him.
Arin's voice was fragile:
"Even if you feel connected to him… do you want him?"
Aarohi's heart twisted painfully.
She shook her head.
"No."
Arin's breath released shakily—relief mixed with hurt.
"I don't want him," Aarohi whispered. "I don't want anyone from my past."
Her eyes filled again.
"But I can't run from what we shared when we died."
Arin exhaled, defeated but clinging to her words.
"Aarohi… whatever that boy was to you—friend, stranger, something else—he's gone. I'm here. Your family is here."
Aarohi leaned into him, voice fragile.
"I know."
Arin held her tightly.
"And I'm not letting you go."
Aarohi whispered:
"I don't want to go."
But deep in her soul…
something else whispered back.
Something older.
Something broken.
Something waiting.
The voice she couldn't run from:
"I found you, Aara. Don't slip away again."
Aarohi's breath shuddered.
And Arin…
felt her flinch.
Felt her tremble.
Felt her torn between two lives.
He whispered into her hair, voice cracking:
"Aarohi… please stay."
And Aarohi whispered back—
"I'm trying."
---