The alley behind the station was quieter. Dusty, yes. Poorly lit, sure. The only sounds were our footsteps and, occasionally, a few barking dogs in the distance. Not a whisper of life surrounded us; it felt like a village lost in time. A few scattered mud houses stood quietly, their walls lost in the dark — no sign of light, no sign of life.

The streetlamps, scattered and weary, cast pale, broken halos that could barely hold back the sea of shadows. In a place stitched together by silence and darkness... To this day, I find it hard to believe...
That I truly followed him.

A stranger.
A city wrapped in mystery.
A night so dark, even the stars seemed afraid to look down.

Logic had abandoned me. Fear had whispered warnings.
And yet, I moved — one step after another — trailing behind an unknown person, as if fate had taken my hand and refused to let go.

Strange, isn’t it?
How can dreams make us cross every line, silence every fear, and blur every truth?

People lie, steal, and kill — in the name of their dreams.

And me?

I was just a girl and merely walking behind a stranger.
Blindly trusting a path I couldn't see, chasing a hope I barely understood.

Well, after walking in that silence for a while, I glanced at him from the side and said,
“What’s your name?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just kept walking for a few seconds.

“Ayaan.”
Short. Crisp.

“And yours?” with follow-up. Even not bothering to look at me.

I didn’t answer. I thought staying silent would keep me from seeming too overenthusiastic. But that grumpy idiot never even bothered asking again. Completely flattened my ego.

“Nitya,” I said eventually, after walking behind him for a while. “And just so you know, I don’t usually follow random guys into dark alleys.”

He laughed.
“Lucky me.”

Ugh. That smug look again.

“So, what’s your story?” he asked. “Art school? Self-taught? Rich parents sponsoring the passion?”

I rolled my eyes.
“Why do you even care?”

“I don’t. Just trying to avoid dying of boredom before we reach.”

“Then talk to yourself.”

A beat passed.

Then he said,
“Already do. But I’m running out of topics.”

Okay, that was kinda funny.

Still.
“You’re annoying,” I had just thought it in my mind.

But somehow he read it like an open book and said, “And you’re grumpy, so we’re even.”

That was our rhythm for the next half hour. Sarcasm, silence, and the occasional awkward glance. As we walked on, I realized that the more I wanted to ignore him, the more curious he made me. I don’t know the reason. Maybe it was his eyes. Every time our gazes met, it felt like he had some kind of magic over me. Even when I didn’t want to, I kept thinking about him. I hated how natural it felt. And I hated how I didn’t really hate it. I'm a bit confused about what's happening to me.

Well, we passed a tiny tea stall. A few rusted benches. Somewhere far away, a wedding’s loudspeaker crackled to life. Landing at the station felt like stepping into a dead world — until now, this was the first clue that humans might still exist nearby. It was that kind of night — when everything feels slower, like time itself was catching its breath.

Then we turned a corner… and everything shifted.

The road we were walking on began to change. The concrete gave way to patchy stones. Then, to coarse soil, the lamps thinned out. The wind got colder.

And then... everything went silent. Now it is hard for us to see each other clearly.

At that moment Ayaan suddenly stopped walking.

I almost bumped into him.
“What happened? You idiot, at least tell me before."

He didn’t reply right away. Instead he pointed ahead.

And I saw it.

A forest, thick like monsoon fog. Towering trees huddled together like they’d been angry at the world for centuries. The path had turned into a muddy trail — leading straight into a patch of thick, ink-black jungle.

For a moment, I froze and said
“No one told us we’d be going through a forest.”

“Oh right, because so many people must have told you that, huh?” He said, tone almost serious, sarcastic, and sharp.

For the first time since we’d met, his usual confidence wavered. Just a little.

“Should we turn back?” I whispered.

“Where else? Head back to that haunted station — where even in broad daylight, you'd be lucky to find a living soul,” he said, glancing at me.

He was right. Again. Damn him.

Still questions crowded my mind, unanswered and heavy. And Ayaan, I was sure, had no answers to offer. With the ticking clock pushing us toward JSM Studio by dawn, the jungle path felt less like a choice and more like destiny itself.

I pulled out my phone. Even if I opened Google Maps now and tried to find another route, something hidden between two cities, but... No signal. Of course.

By now, I had come to terms with the situation. Perhaps this was destiny. And really, what blame could I place on fate when the mistake was mine to begin with? I had somehow gotten off at that haunted Depalpur railway station, miles away from Indore, without realizing it.

But one question kept circling in the back of my mind, tugging at my curiosity—had Ayaan also taken the wrong step? Or had he always meant to get off here—at this isolated, near-forgotten station where time itself seemed to stand still?

His face was unreadable. No confusion, no second glances, no fumbling for directions. It was as if he belonged here. As if he had been waiting for this exact path, this strange turn of events.
And that’s what unsettled me the most.

Because if I had landed here by accident...
What did it mean that he hadn’t?

And maybe that’s exactly why, without thinking twice, I asked him—
“Can I ask you something? How did you end up here?”

He turned slightly, just enough for the silver light to catch in his eyes.
There was something unreadable in that glance—like he saw through the question, through me, and he didn’t respond right away. The pause was too long.

With a voice as calm as the night was unsettling, he replied,
“You ask too many questions. Eyes ahead. Some answers are better left alone.”

It was rude, no doubt… not something I had anticipated.
Still, I shrugged it off. Maybe because I had no choice.

“Sure! Let’s just keep walking, slowly,” I suggested.

“Ladies first,” he smirked.

“Oh, how chivalrous. I’m touched.”

“Nah. You’re going first to test if the jungle's safe. If a bear shows up, you get mauled first.”

“Coward.”

“Realist.”

We both laughed.

Just for a second. The kind of laugh that escapes before your brain can filter it. Warm. Familiar.

Then silence again.

The jungle waited for us.

And we still had no idea what we were walking into.