The room was heavy with tension, the air thick with something unspoken—something dangerous.

Ishan stared at Shubman, his pulse pounding in his ears. The way Shubman’s face had changed—just for that brief moment—made his stomach twist with unease.

This wasn’t the face of a man in love.

This was the face of a man desperate to keep something hidden.

Abhishek moved closer, positioning himself slightly in front of Ishan, as if sensing the shift in the air. “Ishan’s told you—he doesn’t remember you. So instead of forcing him into this fake marriage, why don’t you help him remember?”

Shubman’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was no warmth in it.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” he said smoothly. “But it’s hard when people around him keep poisoning his mind with doubt.”

Ishan flinched at the choice of words. Poisoning his mind?

“Doubt?” Mayank finally spoke from the corner of the room, his voice calm but sharp. “Or reality?”

Shubman exhaled through his nose, the patience he had been feigning beginning to crack. “I understand why you’re all skeptical. I do. But you have to understand—I love Ishan. I would never do anything to hurt him.”

Ishan’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Then stop pressuring me,” he said, voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “If you love me, let me figure this out on my own.”

Something in Shubman’s eyes flickered—just for a second.

Then, he let out a low chuckle. It was quiet, almost to himself, but it sent chills down Ishan’s spine.

“You want time?” Shubman asked, tilting his head. “Fine. Take all the time you need.”

The sudden shift in tone made Abhishek tense beside Ishan. It wasn’t surrender. It wasn’t relief.

It was something else.

Something more dangerous.

Ishan swallowed, nodding. “Thank you.”

Shubman’s lips twitched, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Of course, love.”

The endearment sent a wave of nausea through Ishan.

And yet, he forced himself to stay still, to pretend everything was fine. Because now, more than ever, he knew the truth.

This wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

-----

Ishan could still feel the weight of Shubman’s gaze long after they left the apartment. The way he had smiled—that slow, knowing curve of his lips—made something cold settle in Ishan’s stomach.

Something was wrong.

Mayank, Abhishek, and Ishan walked down the dimly lit hallway in silence. None of them spoke until they were safely outside, away from the suffocating presence of Shubman’s apartment.

Abhishek was the first to break the silence. “That guy is lying.” His voice was firm, like he wasn’t just stating a suspicion—he knew.

Mayank exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. And he’s a damn good liar too.”

Ishan crossed his arms, staring at the dark street ahead of them. “Did you see the way he looked at me when I told him I don’t trust him?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It was like… like I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Abhishek nodded. “Because in his version of the story, you’re not supposed to doubt him.” He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “This is bad. He’s too confident, too comfortable.”

Mayank frowned. “And that means one thing—he has something concrete. A backup plan. He knew you’d doubt him, Ishan. He was prepared for it.”

Ishan felt a shiver crawl down his spine. “Then what’s his endgame?”

Mayank tapped a few times on his phone, his expression turning darker. “That’s what we need to find out.”

Abhishek suddenly grabbed Ishan’s wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. “Listen to me.” His voice was lower now, urgent. “Until we figure this out, you do not go anywhere alone. If he’s lying about your past, if he’s messing with your memories—” He hesitated, his eyes flickering with worry. “—then we don’t know how far he’s willing to go to make you believe him.”

Ishan swallowed hard. The thought had already crossed his mind, but hearing it out loud made his chest tighten.

Shubman wasn’t just lying. He was manipulating.

And if he was willing to go this far… then what else had he already done?

As if on cue, Ishan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, his breath catching when he saw the name flashing on the screen.

Shubman.

No last name. Just Shubman.

Ishan’s hands trembled slightly as he held the phone, staring at the name like it might come to life and strangle him.

Abhishek leaned in, his expression dark. “Don’t answer.”

Ishan didn’t.

Instead, he watched as the call ended… only to be replaced by a text.

Shubman: You’ll come home soon. I know you will.

Ishan’s stomach twisted painfully.

Not if you come home.

When.

This wasn’t just a lie anymore.

This was a trap.

---

They arrived at Abhishek’s apartment in the early hours of the morning. The city was asleep, but Ishan couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

He glanced over his shoulder before stepping inside, half-expecting to see Shubman standing there in the shadows, waiting.

Waiting for him to come home.

He swallowed hard and followed Mayank inside, locking the door behind him.

The apartment was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from Mayank’s laptop as he immediately set up in the living room. He didn’t waste a second before diving back into his research.

----

The city lights flickered outside the window, casting long shadows across the room. Ishan sat on the couch, staring blankly at the untouched cup of tea in his hands. The weight of everything pressed down on him, thick and suffocating.

He had spent the last hour replaying every moment of his confrontation with Shubman, searching for something—anything—that made sense. But all he found were contradictions.

A man who claimed to love him… yet refused to let him go. A husband he didn’t remember… but who had proof of their marriage. A life he was supposed to have lived… yet had no memory of.

Mayank paced the room, his hoodie pulled up, fingers flying over his laptop keyboard. Abhishek leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes never leaving Ishan.

"You’re sure you don’t remember anything?" Abhishek asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Ishan exhaled sharply. "No. I told you, I don’t remember him. Not as my husband. Not as anyone."

Mayank stopped typing and looked up. "But he has proof. Legal documents, photos, and records. Nothing about them looks forged."

Ishan’s stomach twisted. "Then how is this possible?" His voice wavered. "How can someone rewrite my past?"

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the silence.

Ishan flinched, his heart hammering against his ribs. He turned to look at Abhishek, who was already moving toward the door. Mayank closed his laptop and reached for the small knife he kept in his bag—just in case.

Abhishek cracked the door open, his body blocking most of the view. His posture tensed. "What do you want?"

Shubman’s voice drifted in, smooth and casual. "To see my husband."

Ishan’s blood ran cold.

Not again.

Abhishek didn’t move. "Now’s not a good time."

"It never is," Shubman said lightly. "I understand. Ishan is overwhelmed. Confused. But that’s exactly why he needs me."

Ishan stood up, fists clenched. "I don’t need you," he said, his voice sharp.

Shubman chuckled. "That’s what you think now." His voice was calm, too calm. "But you’ll see. Soon enough."

The weight of his words pressed against Ishan’s chest.

There was something in the way Shubman spoke, in the way he carried himself, that made it clear—he wasn’t worried.

He wasn’t desperate.

He was in control.

Ishan swallowed hard.

Whatever game he was playing… he was winning.

And Ishan had no idea how to stop him.

---

Later that night, Ishan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to shift and stretch, as if something unseen was watching him.

His phone vibrated beside him.

Shubman: Are you thinking about me, love?

Ishan’s breath hitched. He gritted his teeth and locked the screen.

Seconds later, another message.

Shubman: I know you are.

A shiver ran down his spine. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to throw the phone across the room.

But deep down, an unsettling truth gnawed at him.

No matter how much he denied it…

He was thinking about Shubman.

And that terrified him the most.

---

To be continued