6."If You Move, I’ll Stab You"

"SREELEELA'S POV"

I slowly opened my eyes, the dull ache in my head reminding me of last night's escapade. The room was dim, and it took a moment for my surroundings to come into focus. I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples to ease the throbbing pain—a hangover from the previous night's adventure, no doubt.

My name is Sreeleela, though everyone close to me just calls me Leela. I'm the daughter of Telangana's Chief Minister, Ranjith Reddy, but that's a part of my life I try to keep hidden. It's not that I'm ashamed of my family or my father's position; it's just that I want to experience life as a normal person. I don't want the constant stares, the whispers behind my back, or the inevitable shift in how people treat me once they know who I am.

A few days ago, I returned to India and enrolled in Mahindra University, where I'm pursuing a degree in Political Science. It's ironic, I suppose, that the daughter of a politician is studying politics, but my reasons go beyond following in my father's footsteps. I want to understand the world, to see it through the eyes of ordinary people, and to one day make a difference—not because of my father's influence, but because of who I am.

Yesterday, I received a call from Chitra, one of my closest friends here. She invited me to a girls' night out, something I hadn't done in a long time. I was hesitant at first—nights out like that often came with their own set of risks, especially for someone like me. But my friends don't know about my family, and I've worked hard to keep it that way.

Chitra was so excited, and I couldn't bring myself to say no. She and the others had planned to meet at a bar, with plans to crash at Chaitra's place afterward. The idea of a carefree night with friends was too tempting to resist, and so I agreed.

After a quick shower, I dressed and emerged into the living room, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. It was already evening, and the room was filled with the soft murmur of conversation. My father was deep in discussion with his aides, his authoritative presence unmistakable even from a distance.

As soon as he saw me, a warm smile spread across his face. "Leela, where are you off to?" he asked, his tone light and affectionate.

I returned his smile, trying to keep my response casual. "Chitra invited me to a girls' night out, so I'm heading there. I'll be staying at Chaitra's house tonight."

My father's smile widened. "That sounds like fun. Just make sure to be safe."

He then turned his attention to my Uncle Sanjay, who was standing nearby. "Sanjay, arrange security for Leela," he instructed.

My heart sank at the mention of security. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, my voice firm. "Daddy, how many times do I have to tell you? I want to live my life like a normal person. My friends don't know I'm your daughter. If security follows me, they'll ask questions and I'll have to explain everything. I'm not a little girl; I can take care of myself."

My father's expression softened, though his smile remained. "Okay, okay. I understand. But remember, if anything happens, you call me immediately."

Relief washed over me, though I couldn't entirely suppress the frustration I felt. I nodded, trying to mask my irritation with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Daddy. I'll be careful."

With that, I turned to leave, my father's gaze following me with a concern. I appreciated his desire to protect me, but sometimes it felt like an overwhelming shadow over my attempts to lead a normal life.

After saying my goodbyes to my father and uncle, I headed out and met Chitra and the others at the bar. My driver dropped me off, and I waved him away, telling him to return later since Chitra had brought her own car. We would use it to head over to Chaitra's place later in the evening.

The bar was lively, pulsating with energy. The music was loud, and people were scattered around, lost in their own world of laughter and conversation. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the quieter, more restrained environment I was used to at home.

We made our way to a reserved table, and I settled in, feeling a sense of liberation as I looked around. The evening was supposed to be a break from my routine, a chance to blend in and enjoy myself. As the drinks flowed and the music played, I let myself be swept up in the euphoria of the night.

Chitra and the rest of the group were animated, their voices rising above the din of the music as they shared stories and laughter. I joined in, savoring the freedom and the camaraderie. The rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses created a vibrant backdrop to our conversation.

After a while, as I sipped my drink and let the warmth spread through me, I became aware of a conversation. The voices, though not particularly loud, carried a certain intensity that drew my attention.

As I scanned the room, my gaze landed on two men sitting at the bar counter. The first man seemed fairly typical, blending into the bustling bar scene with an air of casual ease. However, my attention was drawn to the younger man beside him. His appearance was strikingly different—his hair was disheveled, and he wore glasses and a bulky hoodie that seemed almost out of place in the lively bar atmosphere. The dim lighting made it difficult to get a clear view of his face, but his overall demeanor made him stand out.

I tried to shake off my curiosity and focus on the conversation at my table. Chitra, noticing my distraction, turned to me with a puzzled look. "What's up, Leela? You seem miles away. Everything okay?"

I quickly turned my attention back to her, forcing a smile. "Oh, nothing much. Just got a bit distracted."

I could feel my gaze drifting back to the bar counter, drawn by an inexplicable urge to understand the source of my intrigue. There was something about the younger man that piqued my curiosity—perhaps it was the contrast between his appearance and the lively setting around him. His presence seemed like an anomaly in the otherwise vibrant scene.

Chitra nudged me playfully, bringing me back to our group. "Come on, don't tell me you're already bored. We're here to have fun!"

I laughed softly, trying to mask my distraction. "I'm not bored, just… taking in the scene."

Despite my efforts to stay engaged, my attention kept slipping back to the young man at the bar. There was an air of mystery about him that I couldn't quite shake off.

As I continued to watch the two men at the bar, my attention was caught by a sudden shift in their conversation. The younger man, with his disheveled hair and glasses, began speaking with an intensity that was at odds with his unassuming appearance. He mentioned something about writing poetry, and the other man expressed interest, asking to hear it.

I watched, captivated, as the young man recited his poem. His voice, though somewhat hesitant, carried a certain weight and emotion that was palpable even from a distance. As he finished, the words lingered in the air, and I was left stunned by the beauty of his poetry. The contrast between his nerdy appearance and the depth of his words was striking. How could someone who looked so unremarkable craft something so profound?

The atmosphere at the bar seemed to fade into the background as I processed what I had just heard. This was not what I had expected from someone who appeared so out of place in this vibrant setting. His poetry was evocative, with a rhythm and sensitivity that belied his outward appearance.

As I was still absorbing the impact of the poem, another man joined their table. He seemed to fit into the scene more comfortably, and soon introductions were being made. The young poet, who I learned was named Shivaay, seemed to be the center of attention. His name struck me as unique and cool, though it seemed somewhat at odds with the image I had of him.

Despite the oddity of his appearance, there was something about Shivaay that caught my attention.

I tried to shake off my fascination and refocus on my friends. Chitra and the others were engaged in lively conversation, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the reflective mood that had settled over me. I forced myself to join in, participating in the discussions and enjoying the evening as best as I could.

But even as I interacted with my friends, a part of me remained curious about Shivaay and the world behind his seemingly incongruous appearance.

As the night wore on, the bar's energy continued to sweep us up. Laughter and conversation flowed freely, and the drinks kept coming. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, lost in the revelry of the evening. The music, the lights, and the company created a whirlwind of sensory overload, and for a while, time seemed to stand still.

Glancing at my phone, I was shocked to see that it was already midnight. We hadn't even noticed how quickly the hours had slipped by. It was time to head back, and we made our way to Chitra's car, our steps a bit unsteady but full of the carefree spirit of the night.

As we walked out, I felt a mix of contentment and exhaustion. The night had been a blur of laughter and music, and while I was pleased with how the evening had gone, I could already sense the toll it was taking on me. My thoughts were starting to drift, and I was struggling to stay focused on the task at hand—getting to the car and heading home.

The last thing I remember is getting into Chitra's car. The moment I sat down, a wave of drowsiness hit me, and I felt the world around me blur. The evening's drinks had caught up with me, and I could feel my head spinning. I tried to stay alert, but the alcohol had taken its toll.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I gingerly touched my throbbing head, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night. The room around me was unfamiliar, and a chill of panic crept over me. The décor was nothing like Chitra's house, and I realized with a jolt that I was in a place I didn't recognize.

The dull ache in my head and the disorientation made my heart race. I looked around and saw Chitra and the others sprawled across the bed, still deeply asleep. I could hear the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of the city outside, but none of it seemed to fit with what I had expected.

I sprang into action, shaking Chitra and the others awake. "Hey guys, get up quickly!" I urged, my voice carrying a note of urgency that broke through their slumber.

Chitra groaned and turned her head, barely opening her eyes. "Leela, it's too early. Give us five more minutes," she mumbled sleepily, her words muffled by the pillow.

Ignoring her plea, I shook her more vigorously. "What do you mean 'five minutes'? We're not in your house, idiot!"

Chitra blinked, finally registering the tension in my voice. She sat up groggily and scanned the room, her confusion mirroring my own. "What do you mean, it's not my house?"

I could feel the panic rising in my chest. "Look around, Chitra. This isn't your room. I don't recognize any of this. We must have ended up somewhere else after the bar."

Chitra's eyes darted around the room, and a look of genuine fear crossed her face. "Leela, you're right. We're not at my house. Where are we?"

I could feel the anxiety knotting in my stomach. "I don't know," I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside me.

As I scanned the room, a few details stood out: we were still in the same clothes from last night, which was a small relief, indicating that nothing sinister had happened to us. I spotted my purse on a nearby table and quickly went over to it. Fumbling with the clasp, I pulled out my phone, only to find that it was switched off. My heart sank as I realized the gravity of our situation.

I turned to Chitra and the others, trying to stay calm despite the growing dread. "Does anyone have their phone?" I asked, hoping for some good news.

One by one, they pulled out their phones, but my heart dropped as I saw the same problem: they were all switched off. The realization hit hard—we were cut off from the outside world, with no way to contact anyone or figure out what had happened.

Chitra's face was pale, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at her dead phone. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

"Alright, we need to stay calm," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in my chest. "First, let's figure out where we are. We should get out of this room and find something for safety."

The others nodded in agreement, and we gathered what we could find for protection. Chitra picked up a lamp, while another friend grabbed a pot. We carefully made our way out of the room, moving cautiously through the house.

As we stepped into the hallway, I couldn't help but notice how elegant and well-maintained the house was. The walls were adorned with beautiful paintings, and the décor exuded a sense of quiet luxury. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of awe at the surroundings.

We walked down the corridor and reached the living room, which was equally stunning. A large fruit basket sat on the coffee table, and I quickly grabbed a knife from it, tucking it into my bag for safety. Every sound felt amplified, and the atmosphere was thick with tension.

Just then, I heard a noise coming from the kitchen—a clattering sound, as if someone was busy preparing something. We exchanged nervous glances, our earlier determination giving way to a fresh wave of uncertainty.

We moved cautiously toward the kitchen, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The sound of someone working in the kitchen grew louder as we approached. My heart pounded in my chest, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As we approached the kitchen, I kept the knife firmly in front of me, my grip tense. I peered inside and saw a man standing at the counter, chopping vegetables. He was quite tall, with a rugged appearance. His clothes were casual and slightly disheveled, and his hair was tousled. Despite the informal attire, he looked fit and well-maintained.

A nagging feeling tugged at the back of my mind, as if I'd seen him before, but the pain in my head made it difficult to focus. I tried to push the thought aside, concentrating on the task at hand.

We moved closer, our footsteps muffled on the tiled floor. I could hear the rhythmic sound of the knife chopping and the faint scent of food in the air. When we were close enough, I took a deep breath, my heart racing.

"Don't move," I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible despite the flutter of nerves. "If you move, I'll stab you."

The man's hands froze mid-motion. He slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Chitra, take the knife from him," I instructed, my voice firm.

Chitra nodded quickly, her face pale but determined. She moved swiftly and carefully, reaching for the knife in the man's hand. With a practiced motion, she took it from him and stepped back, holding it with a firm grip.

As Chitra carefully took the knife from the man's hand, I took a deep breath and said, "Turn around."

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