Arjun's Pov
The bag was pulled off her head with a swift motion, and for a moment, I could hardly process what I was seeing. The harsh light of the room made everything feel too sharp, too real. The red-tinted blood staining her temple, the bruised wrists bound in cold chains, the rip of her blue suit against the rough surface of the floor... it all blurred together in a haze of confusion. But then, amidst the disorienting images, I saw her.
**My mystery girl.**
Her face was pale, almost ghostly in the sterile light. The blood from her temple had dried, but the hurt in her eyes, the way she flinched, it hit me harder than anything ever had. She didn't look up when the bag was pulled away, her gaze fixed on the floor, eyes vacant, resigned. It hurt to look at her, hurt to see her in such a fragile state.
But there was something else beneath that hurt. Something deeper.
Something raw.
I froze. My heart slammed in my chest, the world around me slipping away.
**This is the witch.**
The very person my family had been hunting, the curse that hung over us like a dark shadow.
The one who had brought so much grief, so much pain.
But she—she wasn't just a threat. She wasn't just the witch.
She was the girl I couldn't forget. The girl who had appeared in my dreams. The girl who had made my heart race with a mere glance, who had made me feel things I had no right to feel.
The girl whose image still haunted my mind.
"**She's the witch, Arjun,**" Papa's voice broke through my thoughts, cold and final. "**The reason your grandfather died. The reason your uncles and cousins met the same fate. She is the curse.**"
A bitter knot twisted in my stomach, the familiar voice of reason clashing with the raw emotion that pulsed through me.
**She is the witch.**
**She is the enemy.**
But I couldn't shake the ache in my chest. The way my breath hitched when I saw her.
No.
This was a mistake.
A stupid, fleeting attraction.
I stepped back, my hands finding their way into my pockets, gripping tightly to hold back the shaking.
**Just attraction.**
I told myself.
It wasn't anything more. It couldn't be.
But I couldn't ignore the way her presence seemed to fill the room, how the air itself felt charged with something I couldn't explain.
**No.**
She wasn't my salvation. She wasn't my future.
She was the witch.
---
The rest of the day passed in a mechanical haze.
I moved through the motions like a robot, nodding when necessary, answering questions with rote precision, burying the turmoil inside me.
Meetings, plans for the witch, discussions on the family curse.
Nothing mattered.
Nothing felt real.
Not without her face, her eyes, those damned eyes that I couldn't stop seeing.
I went to sleep and woke up to the same aching emptiness.
---
It was that evening, during drinks with Vikram and Ravi, that I finally tried to shake off the thoughts that were clinging to me. They noticed my distant attitude immediately.
"**Bro, you look like hell,**" Vikram said with a grin, his voice light, teasing.
Ravi joined in, "**Yeah, what's up, Arjun? Someone steal your heart?**"
I forced a chuckle, shaking my head. "It's nothing. Just... someone I saw today. That's all."
"**Someone?**" Vikram raised an eyebrow. "Like someone *someone*?"
I rubbed my eyes, sighing heavily. "It's just an attraction. It'll pass. Nothing serious."
*Lies.*
The words tasted wrong in my mouth.
I had to forget her. Fast.
---
Later that night, Natasha messaged me, asking if I was free.
I agreed without hesitation.
It wasn't about her.
It was about escaping... escaping *this* — the feeling that wouldn't leave me alone.
When I arrived at the restaurant, Natasha was waiting for me, a vision in red.
Her dress shimmered under the golden lights, her makeup flawless.
She was beautiful, no doubt about that.
But I didn't feel anything.
Nothing.
And I hated myself for it.
We had dinner, small talk, compliments exchanged like empty words, both of us pretending.
I kept telling myself that this was the distraction I needed.
I tried. I really did.
But my mind kept drifting back to her.
To the girl in the torn blue suit, with blood streaked down her face.
To the way she had looked so lost, so broken.
---
When I returned home, a sense of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach.
The air felt too still.
I overheard Papa speaking to someone, his voice low but heavy with frustration.
She wasn't talking. She hadn't eaten.
No matter what they asked, she wouldn't speak.
That hollow feeling in my chest deepened.
Without thinking, I went straight to Ma and asked her to send food.
She agreed, looking at me with questions in her eyes, but I couldn't explain.
I didn't have the words.
---
Later that night, I stood by the window, watching her through the bars of the room.
She sat on the cold stone floor, hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself.
Her face was pale, her eyes dull. She looked like she had given up.
The blood from her temple had dried, but it didn't matter.
The more I looked, the more her presence overwhelmed me.
I pressed my forehead to the glass, my heart pounding in my chest.
I wanted to go to her.
To speak to her.
To touch her and wipe away the pain that etched itself into her delicate features.
But I couldn't.
I shouldn't.
She was the witch.
She was the curse.
Yet, the truth was a bitter pill I couldn't swallow.
Her presence still felt like a balm on my soul, even as it burned.
---
When I finally pulled away from the window, I realized I didn't know what I wanted anymore.
Was she the enemy?
Was she the one I was supposed to hate?
Or was she the one I was meant to save?
The one I couldn't stop thinking about?
The silence of the house stretched out around me, but inside, I was screaming.
I didn't know who I was anymore.
Or who I was supposed to be.