Ghosts of the Past

Raj’s POV

As soon as Eira's words ended, I cut the call, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. The nerve she had to waltz back into my life, throwing around old titles as if they meant anything. I wouldn’t let her unravel everything I’d been working toward.

I punched in another number, my tone sharp as soon as they picked up. “I need all the data now,” I commanded, leaving no room for delay. There were things I needed to be ahead of, things I couldn't let linger in the shadows any longer. Eira wanted to resurface? Fine. But this time, I’d make sure she wouldn’t get close enough to ruin anything, especially not with Saira.

Saira’s POV

In the restroom, I stared at my reflection, but all I could see was the younger me, the girl I’d been in high school—the girl Raj had done his best to humiliate.

The memory was so clear it felt like I was back there, standing alone in the school corridor, feeling a wave of dread as I watched my classmates snicker and whisper, their eyes darting toward me and away.

It had been my second year, a day I thought would be uneventful, but Raj had other plans. He’d cornered me in the hallway, a smirk on his face, that same cold look he’d always had when he was about to pull something cruel."You’re going to do me a favor," he’d said, his tone so low it sent a chill through me. When I questioned him, his response was simple and sinister.

“Either you throw an egg at Mrs. Patel’s car and let the entire school witness it, or I’ll  spread rumors that you had a sugar daddy and will make sure everyone believed that you are into “shady things” to get expensive gifts.

His eyes had sparkled with a malicious enjoyment, knowing he had me trapped. I tried to refuse, but he only laughed, warning me about how easy it would be to spread such gossip, how everyone would believe his word over mine.

Back then, the fear of having my reputation smeared was overwhelming. The thought of people looking at me with judgment or disgust paralyzed me, and he knew it. So, against my will, I took the egg from him and followed his order. I could still remember the horrified faces of those who saw me, the feeling of dread pooling in my stomach as I completed his cruel task.

Not even a day had passed before the incident reached the ears of the teachers. When Mrs. Patel confronted me, her disappointment cut deep. Despite my attempts to explain that I’d been coerced, she didn’t believe me. I was slapped with detention, and the whispers began to follow me. Meanwhile, Raj stayed in the background, his hands clean, watching me with a satisfaction that was almost celebratory.

Now, looking at my reflection, I tightened my grip on the sink. Every cruel, humiliating memory he’d left me with had made me who I was. I’d carried the scars, hidden the wounds, and somehow survived his games. But as much as I tried to leave those memories behind, they had shaped me, and they reminded me of why trusting him now seemed nearly impossible.