Six Years Ago - Mumbai University
The rain hammered against the windows of the abandoned theatre, drowning out the world beyond. Inside, in the darkness broken only by dim stage lights, two bodies moved together with desperate urgency.
"Someone will catch us," Myra gasped, her back pressed against the cold wall backstage, fingers tangled in Arjun's hair.
"Let them," Arjun growled against her throat, his hands everywhere— At twenty-two, he was supposed to be focused on his upcoming Police Academy entrance exams. Instead, he was here, completely addicted to the woman who'd turned his world upside down.
Myra Kapoor—twenty-three, psychology major, and absolutely forbidden. She was his senior, his study partner's roommate, and according to everyone who warned him, trouble wrapped in temptation.
They were right.
She was also the only person who made him feel alive.
"Arjun," she breathed, pulling him closer, nails dragging down his back hard enough to leave marks. She liked marking him, claiming visible proof that he was hers.
"Tell me again."
"Tell you what?" His lips traced the curve of her jaw, teeth grazing her skin.
"That you're mine." Her voice was velvet and demand, honey and steel. "Only mine."
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes— burning with something that should have scared him but only pulled him deeper.
"I'm yours," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "Only yours. Forever."
The word hung between them like a vow, like a curse.
she smile both beautiful and somehow dangerous. "Don't ever forget that, Arjun Mehta."
Then she kissed him, and all rational thought dissolved.
Four hours earlier...
The library was nearly empty at 11 PM—just how they liked it. Hidden in the corner between Indian History and Criminal Psychology, their favorite spot where no one ever ventured.
"You're not even reading that," Myra whispered, watching Arjun stare at the same page for ten minutes.
"Hard to focus when you keep doing that thing with your foot under the table."
She smiled innocently, her bare foot sliding higher up his calf. "I have no idea what you mean."
Arjun grabbed her ankle, his grip firm. "You're going to get us kicked out."
"Then maybe we should go somewhere more private?" Her eyes held a challenge.
That's how they ended up here—their secret place, the abandoned theatre where Myra once dreamed of performing. The building was scheduled for demolition next month, but for now, it was theirs.
"I got the acceptance letter today," Arjun said later, as they lay on the dusty stage, clothes disheveled, hearts still racing. "Police Academy. I start in two months."
He felt Myra tense beside him. "That's... that's great."
But her voice said otherwise.
"Myra—"
"No, really. It's your dream. I'm happy for you." She sat up, reaching for her shirt, suddenly distant.
Arjun caught her wrist, pulled her back down. "Hey. Look at me."
she met his eyes.
"Nothing changes," he promised. "We'll make it work. Long distance, whatever it takes. You and me—we're forever, remember?"
"Yess," she echoed, but something flickered in her expression—doubt, fear, or something darker he couldn't quite name.
He kissed her to erase it, to prove his words.
She responded with an intensity that bordered on desperation, like she was trying to memorize him, imprint herself onto his soul so deeply he could never forget.
If he'd been less young, less in love, less drunk on her, he might have recognized it for what it was.
A goodbye.
Two months later - The night before Police Academy
Arjun's dorm room was packed, ready for his departure at dawn. Myra had been quiet all evening, clingy in a way she'd never been before.
"Stay with me tonight," she'd whispered. "One last time."
Now, hours later, she lay in his arms, tracing patterns on his chest. In the darkness, he couldn't see her face, couldn't see the tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
"I love you," she said suddenly. "More than anything. You know that, right?"
"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too. This isn't goodbye, Myra. I'll call you every day. We'll visit on weekends—"
"But it won't be the same." Her voice cracked. "You'll be living a different life. Meeting new people. You'll outgrow me."
"Never." He turned her to face him, even in the dark. "Myra, you're it for me. I don't want anyone else. I could never want anyone else."
She kissed him then, and it was different—raw, almost violent in its intensity. Like she was fighting something, or trying to consume him completely.
They made love like it was the last time, though Arjun didn't know that's exactly what it was.
When he woke at dawn, she was gone.
Just a note on his pillow in her handwriting:
"I can't do this anymore. Don't look for me. Forget me. - M"
And below that, in smaller letters that looked like they'd been written through tears:
"I'm sorry I couldn't be strong enough to share you with your dreams. I love you too much. It's destroying me."
Present Day - Six Years Later
ACP Arjun Mehta stood in the rain outside the crime scene, watching the forensics team work. Fourth victim in three months. Same MO—successful woman, recent breakup, staged to look like an accident.
His phone buzzed. His partner, Inspector Sameer.
"Boss, got something. All victims had one thing in common—they were seeing the same therapist."
"Name?"
"Dr. Myra Kapoor. Psychiatrist. Runs a private practice in Bandra."
Arjun's blood turned to ice.
The phone slipped from his hand, clattering on the wet pavement.
Myra.
The name he'd spent six years trying to forget. The woman who'd disappeared without explanation, leaving him shattered and questioning everything he thought he knew about love.
She was back.
And women were dying.
"No," he whispered to the rain, to the ghost of a promise made in darkness. "Not her. It can't be her."
But deep in his gut, in the place where instinct lived, he knew.
The woman he'd once loved more than life itself was now the monster he had to catch.
And somewhere in this city, she was watching, waiting, remembering every promise he'd broken, every moment they'd shared.
The words echoed in his mind—half memory, half threat.
The rain fell harder, washing away nothing.