Chapter 6: The Melodic Shadow

The bus ride home was a blur. After a tense argument on the beach, Priya had insisted on leaving. Karthi had dropped her off at a bus stop, refusing to speak to her.

She walked toward her apartment, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Priya?"

She jumped, nearly tripping over her own feet. It was Vaani. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Where were you?" Vaani asked, her voice cracking. "I called you twenty times."

"I was out," Priya said, her voice defensive. "I was with Karthi. He took me to the beach."

Vaani let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "The beach. While we were at college, worried sick because you didn't show up for the mid-terms? While I was defending you to the professors?"

"I didn't ask you to do that!" Priya snapped, the pressure of the day finally breaking her. "You’re just jealous, Vaani. You’re jealous because nobody looks at you the way Karthi looks at me. You want me to be alone just because you are!"

The slap of the words was worse than a physical blow. Vaani recoiled, her face twisting in pain. She didn't yell. She didn't fight back. She simply turned around and walked away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Rekha, watching from the corner of the street, stood frozen. She wanted to go to Vaani, but she felt the weight of Priya’s anger like a physical barrier.

The Mutton Friend

Priya flagged down an auto-rickshaw, her vision swimming with tears. She climbed into the back and buried her face in her hands.

"Are you... okay?" a soft, stuttering voice asked.

Priya looked up. Sitting in the corner of the auto was Katthi. He looked smaller without his heavy apron, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees.

"Katthi-garu?" she gasped, wiping her eyes. "I didn't see you."

"I was... coming back from the shop," he said. He watched her for a long moment, his eyes filled with a strange, intense sympathy. "Why do you cry? Was it the friend? Or the boy?"

Priya found herself spilling everything—the fight with Vaani, Karthi’s suffocating demands, the feeling that she was losing her grip on her own life. Katthi listened with a stillness that was almost unnatural.

"You don't need them to understand you," Katthi said, his voice becoming surprisingly steady. "You only need to be happy. If the boy makes you happy, stay. If he doesn't... there are others who would treat you like a queen."

Priya managed a weak smile. "You’re very positive, Katthi-garu. I didn't expect that from you."

"I see things," he whispered. "I see how hard you try."

As the auto stopped in front of their building, the tension seemed to melt away. "You know," Priya said, stepping out, "Karthi and Katthi. Your names are so similar. Just one letter off. Maybe it’s a sign I’m supposed to have two 'K's in my life."

Katthi’s breath hitched. Priya... loves me? The thought took root in his mind like a poisonous weed.

As they walked toward their respective doors, Katthi began to whistle. It was a jaunty, mechanical tune.

The Astro Boy theme.

Priya stopped dead. The sound sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. It was the same tune from her nightmare—the whistling of the man in the blood-stained bathroom.

She turned to look at him, but Katthi had already slipped inside his apartment, the door clicking shut with a finality that made the hallway feel ten degrees colder.

The Warning Sign

Inside her empty apartment, Priya ran to the bathroom. She felt a familiar warmth tickling her upper lip.

Drip. Drip.

Crimson droplets hit the white sink.

She stared at her reflection. Her skin was pale, her eyes bloodshot. The stress wasn't just in her head anymore; her body was breaking under the weight of the secrets she was keeping.

"What is happening to me?" she whispered, the water washing the blood away, but the memory of the whistling still echoed in her ears.

She didn't know that across the hall, Katthi was pinning a new photo to his wall. A photo of her getting into the auto-rickshaw, crying. Underneath it, he wrote in jagged letters: HE MAKES HER CRY. I WILL MAKE HIM BLEED.