Authours pov.
Morning pried its fingers through the blinds like it was trying to expose secrets.
Her eyes opened slow, vision unfurling to the familiar ceiling of her dorm… and the familiar black rose resting on the pillow beside her face. The petals looked almost bruised themselves, folded velvet with the faintest scent of smoke and winter. A whisper of danger dressed pretty.
Riya's bed was already empty; the girl had darted off for her early lecture, leaving her notes still warm on the desk and her perfume hovering in the air like a nervous ghost. Sona pushed herself up, sleep evaporating in one sharp hit when her fingers grazed her own throat.
It ached.
She stumbled to the mirror.
And there they were.
Shadows blooming beneath her jaw.
A faint imprint around her wrist.
The ghost-kiss bruise at her lower lip.
Last night flooded in—fragmented, slippery, intimate in a way she wasn't supposed to admit even to herself.
A presence in the dark.
A breath at her ear.
A hand tightening in silent warning.
A whisper that curled into her bones like a vow.
Mine.
Her pulse stumbled. Not out of fear. Something worse. Something she'd never confess. She sprint towards camera on night stand and there he was.
The stalker. Her stalker. Hidden beneath hood wishing her good night like he didn't just punished her till she left breathless lastnight.
Outside her door, the hallway clattered with the usual morning rush, but here… in her room… the world felt sliced open.
And the rose beside her?
Placed so delicately she hadn't stirred.
Or maybe she had, and pretended not to.
A folded scrap of paper lay beneath it, half tucked under the pillow. Just two words, sharp as teeth:
Stop searching.
Her mouth twitched.
Because she absolutely wouldn't.
too fun to stopped now.. She pocketed the note. Muttering and smirking under her breath
Riya burst in minutes later, breathless and pale, like she'd sprinted up three floors of stairs.
"You didn't answer my texts! I thought—did something happen?"
Her eyes dropped to Sona's neck.
Then heer lower lip.
Then to her wrist.
Froze.
Widened.
"Oh my god… what happened to you?"
Sona tugged her collar up. Too late. Maybe on purpose.
"Nothing. Probably hit the bedframe or—"
"Bedframe doesn't strangle you, Sona!" Riya shriek-whispered.
Kabir barreled in behind her, mug in hand, hair still wet from his shower. "What's with the screaming—"
He saw her face.
His mug hit the floor.
Shattered.
"Tell me this isn't from the stalker," Kabir said, voice cracking in that way he always tried to hide.
Sona offered her most practiced, innocent blink, the one she used when she wanted people to stop looking too close. But the cracks were showing today. Her fingers wouldn't stay still. Her throat pulsed against the bruises.
Arjun arrived in the doorway moments later, silent as a shadow. Expression unreadable. Eyes… not.
They landed on her neck.
Her lip.
Her wrist.
Slowly, like savoring.
Concern poured over his face with such conviction it would have fooled any living soul.
Except her.
Because she recognized the flicker behind it—the ripple of satisfaction quickly caged.
He stepped close, too close, head tilting in that gentle way that made everyone trust him.
"You should have told me," he murmured.
Soft. Protective.
Perfect.
Her pulse betrayed her and quickened. His jaw twitched, almost imperceptible.
Kabir rounded on Arjun. "We need to start sorting suspects. This stalker is getting bold. Bruises are—this is serious."
Arjun nodded slowly, like the responsible one, the calm one… the one who wasn't leaving roses at her skull while she slept.
"We'll go through everyone. Anyone who's had access. Anyone who's been acting strange."
His gaze flickered back to her.
Barely a breath of a smirk somewhere deep in his eyes.
Gone in an instant.
Riya grabbed a notebook. "Okay, okay—names. That creepy physics TA? The senior who keeps staring? Those guys who had bullied us on our very first day?"
Kabir added more. "Her exes. Professors who know her routine. People from the club."
He scribbled furiously.
"Anyone could be involved," Arjun said quietly.
"So don't trust anyone."
His eyes landed on her again, heavier now, a warning… or a promise.
Her lips curled, just slightly.
A private acknowledgment.
A counter-threat.
Riya suddenly dug into her bag. "Wait, Sona… did you see this? I found it in our bathroom this morning."
She held out another rose—black this time—propped against the faucet in a photograph.
The rose leaned over the sink like it had been waiting for someone to scream.
A note in the image clung to the tile:
stop playing with fire , it can burn you little flame.
Kabir paled. "He broke in here again? While you're asleep?"
Arjun's jaw tightened so subtly that only she caught the shift. She felt his fury like heat under the skin, a pressure that wanted to bleed into violence. They were not supposed to find that note they're not supposed touch what belongs to them only.
But he kept the mask on.
Barely.
"We need to analyze handwriting," Kabir said. "Compare notes. Look at timestamps of the texts. Trace the roses—florists, delivery, surveillance."
Riya clutched Sona's arm. "We're going to find him. Okay? We're going to stop this."
Sona nodded gently, allowing herself to look shaken. Just enough to sell the role.
But inside?
She felt the electric hum of a game that was no longer just beginning—it was folding inward, tightening, threading them closer than the world should ever allow.
Because while she woke to black roses and warnings on mirrors,
he was finding blue ones in places no one else could see.
In his jacket.
In his car.
Pinned to his pillow.
Inside his lecture notes.
Perfect signatures left where only he could reach them.
And every time they locked eyes, even across a crowded hallway, there was that same unspoken truth simmering between them:
They weren't hunting a stalker.
They were hunting each other.
And everyone else was just collateral confusion.
But for now?
She let them panic.
She let Arjun play the protector.
She let the investigation grow teeth.
Because the cracks were finally showing.
And cracks always lead somewhere darker.
The morning light shivered across the room as if even it sensed the shift.
Something was moving beneath the surface now.
Something close to revelation.
Something close to ruin.
And it wasn't done yet.
The hunt, after all, had only just begun.
The dorm felt colder by noon, like someone had left a window open that no one remembered touching. Riya kept pacing, her panic turning the room into static. Kabir kept chewing the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit he thought no one noticed. Sona sat on her bed, legs pulled close, running a thumb along the faint bruise blooming on her wrist like an ink accident. Arjun stood beside her, arms crossed, pretending calm so perfectly it almost fooled everyone… except maybe her.
The investigation must've started as a joke. A distraction. Something to feel productive doing when the silence got too tight. But by early afternoon, it wasn't a game anymore. It was a hunt, and none of them could even agree on who was supposed to be the hunter.
Riya dumped a stack of notes and roses onto Sona's desk.
"We're doing this properly," she declared. "We check everything. Cameras, handwriting, fingerprints—everything."
Her voice shook despite the bravado.
Arjun stepped closer, picking up one of the black roses left at Sona's classroom desk that morning. He turned it slowly between his fingers. The smell of cold ash still clung to the petals.
Kabir exhaled sharply. "Man, this is… sick. Whoever this is needs help."
Arjun didn't respond. His jaw flexed once. Sona watched him, the way his eyes lingered not on the rose, but on her. Almost too long. Almost like he wasn't scared of the stalker. Almost like he was remembering something.
Riya pulled out her phone. "Security gave me the hallway footage from last night. We can look for—uh—anything weird."
They gathered around her screen. And there it was.
A hooded figure entering the dorm floor. Moving too confidently to be lost. Shoulders relaxed. Steps exact. A phantom with purpose.
Kabir leaned in. "Freeze it. That. What's that?"
Riya paused the frame. Zoomed.
Ink.
Tattoos.
Half-hidden under the hood's shadow—just enough to be recognizable if someone had seen them before.
Kabir swallowed. Whispered, "Why does that look like—"
Riya shot him a warning glare before he could finish.
Sona's fingers twitched.
Arjun's eyes flickered with something almost sharp.
But both stayed quiet.
Too quiet.
Kabir restarted the video.
The figure slipped through the corridor like silk. Paused at Sona's door. Lifted something—a rose, maybe, or a note—and placed it carefully where she'd find it upon waking.
Riya shut the phone with trembling hands. "Okay. So. Um. Cameras saw… that. But we still don't know who that is. We should match handwriting next."
Arjun stepped forward. "I'll help."
Sona's head snapped toward him too quickly.
Riya noticed.
Kabir noticed.
They exchanged a glance, the kind that says no, something's off.
They laid out the letters the stalker had left—ink pressed too deeply into paper, slanted strokes, a strange looping curl at the end of certain letters. Arjun analyzed them quietly while Sona watched him with a strange, softened look. A look she didn't even realize she was giving.
Kabir's eyebrow lifted. "You two look… oddly invested."
Sona's breath hitched. Arjun didn't flinch. He simply replied, "Because she's getting targeted. Obviously."
It was reasonable. Logical. But something in his tone was too gentle. Too familiar.
Riya felt her stomach drop.
Still, they carried on.
They tried tracing fingerprints on the roses' plastic stems, but the surface was too smooth; nothing stuck. They argued over suspects—students from Sona's lit class, the overly helpful librarian, that ex who still watched her Instagram stories but never spoke.
Kabir suggested a nerdy boy from their economics lecture who always stared too long. Riya suggested a professor who gave Sona strange feedback last semester. Arjun rejected both instantly.
"Wrong profile," he muttered.
Kabir frowned. "What, are you an expert on stalkers now?"
Arjun's eyes gleamed, unreadable. "You'd be surprised."
A silence followed.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
Loaded.
Then Sona spoke, voice too soft: "Actually… he's right. The roses, the letters, the way they show up… This person knows patterns. Timing. Privacy."
Kabir stared. "How would you know that?"
She froze for a second too long.
Arjun's gaze slid her way—slow, deliberate, like a hand brushing a secret.
Kabir saw it.
Riya saw it.
They didn't say anything, but doubt settled into them like damp.
They kept working anyway, because what else could they do? Fear made people productive. Fear made people stupid.
Arjun stepped away for a moment, pretending to check something on his phone. A notification flashed—one none of them could see.
Another blue rose. A picture. A message.
you're being too obvious.
He turned the screen over quickly, expression unreadable.
But Sona noticed.
She always noticed.
Or maybe she is one to did that.
She didn't say a word.
The air grew thick. The dorm lights flickered once, then steadied. A draft moved through the room as if someone invisible had brushed past them. Riya shivered.
Kabir began rearranging the notes when he stopped.
"What's this?" he asked, confused.
Another piece of paper had appeared in the mess.
No one had seen anyone place it there.
A fresh note.
New ink.
Cold to the touch.
Sona opened it with trembling fingers. Too convincing to be true.
STOP SEARCHING.
YOU AREN'T READY FOR WHAT YOU'LL FIND.
Her pulse jumped. Not with fear. Never fear. It was wrost excitement.
Arjun stepped closer without thinking. Claiming.
Kabir and Riya shared another silent alarmed look.
Before any of them could speak, a notification from the TV blared suddenly, cutting through the tension.
A news alert.
Breaking.
"No way," Kabir muttered, turning up the volume.
The anchor's voice filled the dorm:
"Police confirm the city's ongoing serial killer case has escalated. Three new victims discovered. All linked by symbols, red roses, and staged scenes. Authorities believe the killer is becoming bolder."
Riya's hand flew to her mouth. "Roses…?"
Kabir's face went pale. "You don't think—"
Arjun didn't move.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Something darker glinted in his eyes, quiet and ancient, like recognition.
Like memory.
And Sona—sweet, trembling Sona—felt a slow smile tug at her lips. She didn't let it bloom fully. Only enough for someone watching carefully to notice.
Kabir noticed.
Riya noticed.
They both stiffened.
But neither knew what to say.
Not yet.
The room exhaled in silence.
Somewhere outside, a phone buzzed again.
Another message.
No one dared check it.
The chapter ended the way storms begin—quiet, but promising ruin.
And the cracks had finally, beautifully started to show.